another barrel fire poem...

photo found here at this link , no attributable author found

http://www.thebellforum.com/showthread.php?t=48581&page=5

huddling around barrel fires

someone has found

an old desk in the alley

it was easy pickings

left more drinking

to the rest of us

more time

to be ourselves

we were warm

and wry for a few hours

a few blocks

from the soup kitchen

we broke it up

flat pieces propped

against the wall

at 45 degrees

we each stomped

on a piece

just to fit it in

a small iron circle

that glowed

green sabers

catching the edge

of flames at first

in an acrid lacquer

burning the smoke

black onto our hands

that seem not to mind

this tether to survive

I kept, the extra piece of bread

I had asked for when I was

at the near end of the line

pure hunger in my inflection

as I hated to beg, having to

as I felt the insurrection

of my stomach, prodding

me otherwise

when I lost faith in god

my mind became

the curious jubilation

of a child

it was meant to be

as I lose faith

in my humanity

my soul is becoming

a constant condemnation

of everything I see

even when I close my eyes

my dreams are infected

too many rats

in the cages I think

how will we feed us all

how do we stay yoked

to the fiery embrace

thirsty for life

how do we get past

sold heartbeats,

promissory notes,

certainties of slavery

and the slow routes

of becoming

foraging outcasts

carrying little

faded memories

everywhere we gather

EJR ©