Excerpts from Miriam’s Kitchen’s Thoughts After Breakfast:
THIS IS MIRIAM’S KITCHENa group poem
I move through the streets, I get food stampsI find myself being followedby people I don’t knowquite often homeless people they also follow methere was a guy last nightsitting at my headI don’t know his name but I know his faceI’m leery of the streetsa cop did that -a cop beat up Johnbroke his armcan you imagine when you walk along the streets?The first one they prey on -I don’t want to mess with anyoneread my newspaperwent to buy me a big sodacheck out the wallethow much cash you havewhat you’re buyingSilence – they say silence is golden.Cops. You don’t worry about the cops, the other homelessguys -it’s enough to drive you insane -What beer is that that saysgo for the gold?Some of the guys do act kind of crazyhe wears a red hattwitching handthe waitress – she’s cleaning the table while we’re talking,no words spilling.I am leery of this guy -you get bad vibes”I’m gonna do you some damage”you can learn a lot in these restaurantsat this table they’re talking about drugsthis is called Miriam’s Kitchen This guy’s a white guyI stay away from the crowdsfirst of the month they’re always highthey always hit you from behind
this is called Miriam’s Kitchenyou can learn a lot from this restaurant
may I have another cookie?
He’s always talkin’ about food!!Always smilin’
this is Miriam’s Kitchen this would make a nice restaurantever really think about it?3/17/95
AN EMPTY PITCHER
How can you refill an empty pitcherthat has broken and gone to dust?Or drive again that showroom carthat was totaled and turned to rust?And how can you make that empty spacethat seems so empty and hollow nowBut once was full of a loving faceAnd built on dreams of a happy place?Maybe when the earth stops turningAnd when the last raindrop fallsPerhaps that’ll ease the yearningOf the ghost from memory’s halls.Until then we have to keep livingThis life that was entrusted to usAnd try somehow to be givingtill the day we, ourselves, we are dust.Charles E. Syhr
DON’T SCREAM
A mist rose from the earth making fog as thick as steam, carlights and street lights illuminated through what looked like a watery cream – it was eery and dreary and walking intosomething was almost scary – but it was cold and the fog hung – it clung to me and chilled my being, for in the park where I lay without tent or sleeping bag was a drag – it hurtcause I was no one in the fog, might as well been a tree log to sit on, not shit on like some two leggers do, you have a voicesaid, get out of this park in the dark you must find another home in the mist like gorillas in the jungle but there’s no family to be with, so I am with me a lonely situation this is,displeased and teased by all the wealth around me, I sneeze, then freeze cause only my clothes can block out this cold mist oozing like watery cream, don’t scream cause I’mlonely cause the wrong thing might hear me, don’t beg whenyour hungry, the wrong thing might feed you, don’t sit stillcause the wrong thing might sit next to you.Neal Avery
I SAW YOU
I saw you when you walked by yesterday morningand I was Truly Touched – my heart actually skipped a beat – fluttering as you walked by.
I caught your eye through my glimpsing at you in your longgray coatand the shining heels and WOW look at those legs – but yourface was whatreally caught my eye, the look that existed was of manythings. Being a man and you a woman does not mean that all I do is lustfor you but Ido desire you in many ways – To capture the look on your face whenever andwhatever you are doing because your beauty shines from within and peoplecan see it on the outside. BEWARE, some of them knownot ofwhen they see or how they are looking, and some arelooking with evil eye -to do negative things but you are innocent to a lot of the ways of thisworld and I do not want too possess you but maybe just be
with you for a while,I think.Neal Avery
DIRTY LINEN IN PUBLIC
A sheet after a wedding night told neighborswhat they demanded.The rule of thumb by gossip law – unwrittenrule commanded.
But I prefer my open brandwhere I select what’s said.Somethings are of no great care,and so should lay as dead.
Others on my launching listdoesn’t bother me to state,for they may hang upon my lineto blow in winds of fate.
And come what mayI hung those things to drythen blow away -I’ve hung them up whilewhat remains are things I need not say.Kathy G. Reed
THE BEAST OF BEAUTY
BeautifulWas the beast within.Some were fearful of itWhile some made the beast Their friend.There were tracesOf compassionAnd kindnessAnd sight penetratesThrough the blindnessOf our ideas.About the beast of beautyThere was an ugly sideTo this beastWith its anger, hatredAnd warringAnd now that the beast Has absorbed some loveThe once ugly sideBecame very boring.Now the beastWill never be the same.Filled with compassionThis beast is tamed.Gregory Hillaka Jahi