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Home by Sheldon Alexander
Tues. May, 13th, 2014
When I was younger,
my mother took me to see the lion king play.
I remember the NY streets as clear as day.
The hustle and bustle of busy bodies,
To busy to notice what I saw.
A cup in hand shaking with change.
I was smart enough to understand that he needed money and he was homeless.
My only quarter I would give to thee.
But at my mothers dismay she snatched my hand before the transaction was complete.
I didn't understand.
I didn't understand until I was old enough to translate the talk of those homeless.
Are those who sin.
Full of problems.
Cheat, steal, lie.
Drunkards and junkies.
But they have nothing so how do they survive?
I found out first hand.
Mother stricken wit disease,
Bankruptcy.
Bouncing from housing assistance to friends assistance.
I don't know how we didn't make it to a shelter
Or the streets but she found a way..
But it still didn't keep us from that environment,
To know this place was never home to begin with.
I was in my teens trying to understand who I was going to live with.
The roaches were additional tenants
Who ruled the kitchen.
They were the quietest of neighbors but I didn't miss them.
Soon enough family took me.
And soon enough family would begin,
To complain to say move out.
For what ?
Again I didn't understand...
Until I moved to amherst.
My ex took so many trips to Springfield
Without my knowledge.
As I leave work without a key to her home
Alone I felt.
Soon enough we broken up
And without a home I dealt.
Being young brother with a full time job without a place to rest my head.
The umass library soon became my bed.
The always open, all access library
Provided a space for me to get my bearings together.
All I had was a bag in my work locker and clothes.
I would hate to impose
But crashing at dorms was also a place to go.
I had nothing material
Just a job...all alone.
I drank and did drugs just like everypolitician.
I mean homeless person.
I pan handled my CDs in exchange for goods and cash to make it through the week.
Rapping for a place to play,
Whether strong or weak.
I became to understand.
Being homeless is not a physical limitation,
But societal declaration.
I'm not built for societies segregation.
The white picket fence wasn't my favorite color,
I rather erect a tent as I travel the world.
Because I'm free from your forced responsibilities.
Besides I was never homeless,
Because home is where the heart is.
Tues. May, 13th, 2014
When I was younger,
my mother took me to see the lion king play.
I remember the NY streets as clear as day.
The hustle and bustle of busy bodies,
To busy to notice what I saw.
A cup in hand shaking with change.
I was smart enough to understand that he needed money and he was homeless.
My only quarter I would give to thee.
But at my mothers dismay she snatched my hand before the transaction was complete.
I didn't understand.
I didn't understand until I was old enough to translate the talk of those homeless.
Are those who sin.
Full of problems.
Cheat, steal, lie.
Drunkards and junkies.
But they have nothing so how do they survive?
I found out first hand.
Mother stricken wit disease,
Bankruptcy.
Bouncing from housing assistance to friends assistance.
I don't know how we didn't make it to a shelter
Or the streets but she found a way..
But it still didn't keep us from that environment,
To know this place was never home to begin with.
I was in my teens trying to understand who I was going to live with.
The roaches were additional tenants
Who ruled the kitchen.
They were the quietest of neighbors but I didn't miss them.
Soon enough family took me.
And soon enough family would begin,
To complain to say move out.
For what ?
Again I didn't understand...
Until I moved to amherst.
My ex took so many trips to Springfield
Without my knowledge.
As I leave work without a key to her home
Alone I felt.
Soon enough we broken up
And without a home I dealt.
Being young brother with a full time job without a place to rest my head.
The umass library soon became my bed.
The always open, all access library
Provided a space for me to get my bearings together.
All I had was a bag in my work locker and clothes.
I would hate to impose
But crashing at dorms was also a place to go.
I had nothing material
Just a job...all alone.
I drank and did drugs just like every
I mean homeless person.
I pan handled my CDs in exchange for goods and cash to make it through the week.
Rapping for a place to play,
Whether strong or weak.
I became to understand.
Being homeless is not a physical limitation,
But societal declaration.
I'm not built for societies segregation.
The white picket fence wasn't my favorite color,
I rather erect a tent as I travel the world.
Because I'm free from your forced responsibilities.
Besides I was never homeless,
Because home is where the heart is.
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