Wood Spirits

write please read and enjoy only very partially based on something that actually happened.

December, nineteen sixty three

the frost collects in the beards of the homeless

who weep tears of defeat; life seems hopeless

Philadelphia

bundled under blankets of snow

shivering and miserable they line the streets

few of them sleep, with nowhere to go

they borrow time to live, three starve for every one who eats

poverty and frail bones, behind their eyes they are hollow

Venture to their jungles, see their thin and decaying forms

shuffling as if their ankles are in chains, food slow enough for the worms

before they die their wretched lives waste away, compassion transforms

they chip at this glacier to reach the hearts and minds inside, yet the blizzard never warms

you strangers never warm; they were never warned 

wringing a cheesecloth over an old mug

a belly full of fire to liven up the poor man 

ours was just fifteen when he caught the bug

strained through a sock straight from a tin can

Oh no, look who came back with the Sterno-Inferno 

give me a swig, give me sight, bring on the Canned Heat

knock you through the brig, won't even put up no fight, swept right off of my feet

loopy and sappy, it'll make you feel happy 

it's quicker, hotter, and easier too

if you was where we was, what would you do?

He's drinking, and drinking, but it's not going away

in one month they lost a person for every day

thirty one deaths

thirty one deaths!

Thirty one deaths

it seems sometimes like he's the only one who can't forget

and as he exhales into his interlaced fingers

he can't see the blood on his hands, but the scent of iron lingers

young and alone, he staggers through winter like wet cement

with a pain pushing on his kidney like a broken bone that won't relent

his needs come back and haunt him, yet

direction is the one thing in life he could never find

now his hands guide him through a picture in his mind

swearing, crying, I am blind!

It was the perfect irony

when the sidewalks cleared of ice 

and the sun shone down, now they could see

they wanted to go outside when it was nice,

but for the loss of many, 

when they found his body 

struck by a shovel clearing a path

on his side curled in a ball, 

they became numbers to his statistic, indifferent and evil math

more witnesses than family, all their eyes would fall

that's the cruel nature, he died by a stoop and no one saw or heard his call

when he was discovered, he was made an example to them all

on the dangers of drinking methanol.