| I live in a tent Sleeping bag for a bed, The rest of my stuff's In a storage shed. I pedal to work, Seven miles each way, You think I've got it rough, But who's to say That my life's worse Than yours right now? My dad worked harder And didn't know how To give to himself The love that he needed, But he made sure us kids Was all clothed and feeded. My family don't help, It's not they don't care, It's just this is something I'm not willing to share. When you find yourself In the same position You choose who you tell About your living conditions. There's a word for where I'm at I'm sure you can guess. Although I've done my best Still, I ended up being Homeless, homeless, Homeless, homeless, Homeless, homeless, Homeless, homeless. |
| This poem is taken from the summer of 2001; a point in my life where I lived in a tent in the woods to save money on rent and other living expenses. At first it was an adventure, but as the months went by I became more discouraged with how long it was taking me to save enough money in order to move into a permanent structure again, and discouraged with living among spiders and mosquitos and also more apprehensive about my illegal camp being discovered and being arrested. It's been appended & updated in Dec., 2005/Jan., 2006 & I'd like to make a music video of it by the summer of 2006. |
| My cellular phone, It keeps me in touch. I rent a mailbox, It doesn't cost much. Ice chest for a fridge, Every day it's a bother, To buy more ice and Dump out the water. My girlfriend is gone, She packed up and left me. And now my sex life is, A little bereft-y. My job keeps me going, It pays okay money. Show up and do the work, Nobody looks at me funny. I know what you're thinking, "It's uncouth and absurd. Pitch a tent in the woods, And live with the birds?" I know what I'm doing, I know where I've been. I have no regrets, I'd do it again. It's wearing me down, All the hassles and stress, but You do what you've gotta do, When you're one of the Homeless, homeless, Homeless, homeless, Homeless, homeless, Homeless, homeless. |
| Homeless |
| Now, there's no way to know, Just who wrote this song, Or where she is now, Or even how long She's been without a home, To call her own A place to feel safe, When she's all alone. Does he live in your town, Just over one street? Did he walk by this morning, Looking pressed and neat? Does he work, have a job? Will his nametag tell? Can it show in his eyes? Does he look like hell? How can you ever know, He's got a home for real? And what's it really like? How does homeless feel? Sometimes we ignore it, Sometimes it's really scary, But we try to keep in mind, That it's only temporary. Once we lost our homes, We got a new address, The whole World became our home, When we ended up being Homeless, homeless, Homeless, homeless, Homeless, homeless, Homeless, homeless. |
| Just between you and me:: This song is written entirely by me and as such has only my perspective. It is my attempt to show what living without a permanent home is like. Whether it also is the perspective of another person who's homeless, I do not know. In writing this, I attempted to illustrate that homelesness is more widespread than the public may realize, and that a person who's homeless does not always fit a stereotypical description. As a person who's homeless, I've often felt that I'm missing that sense of being at home here on Earth. Slowly I have come to realize that there may be two kinds of homelessness, one being a homelessness that is Earth-based which can be provided for through concrete goods & goals, and another which can only be met through a spiritual dedication and participation. This other kind of homelessness is a longing that may not be fully erased or eradicated here on Earth, nor will merely having a house completely meet that sense of being connected, because that ultimate sense of belonging or connection must come from my own way of relating to Life, what work I choose to do, how I relate to a friend or family member, how I give to my community, and participating emotionally in life. It is up to me to decide what kind of home I will establish here and now, so that I assuage this esoteric homelessness. This sense of belonging and feeling welcome here on Earth, therefore, cannot be provided to me solely by any social services agency (although I appreciate the goods and services they provide), nor a company or corporate entity (though I appreciate the salary and strive to do my best work), nor biological or adoptive family (although I honor the love and cameraderie they shower me with), nor any religious or ecumenical organization (although it feels great to be embraced by and be part of a congregation), nor through compulsory giving of monetary gifts based upon rules by a hierarchical being (although, with gratitude, I offer what I can from my abundance), but ultimately it is up to me to build a home with the these communities I've previously mentioned |
| and to discover a sense of belonging with Nature, or Earth, or Creator, God, Allah, Shiva, Gicemanido, The ONE, ALL THAT IS, Spiritual Beings, or other names given to that which I long to connect with and to commune through whatever means that I've found which offers me the salve to stave off this sense of being homeless. |