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Editing Instructions

Please note in the NOTES textbox below that this poem has been edited, do not put your name, please put as the following:

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Errands A groggy, drowsy hobo
with a prediliction for
delicate scents and silky woven sheets
crisp and cool on skin
loiters by the entrance
of a preening department store
sitting in the middle of a harried intersection
that's spinning with an erratic pulse
One by one
mind calloused individuals
are drawn to the gilded complex
like inconsequential specks of lint
gathered at his fraying coat
Oh hello stranger,
chirps the agreeably muted lighting
its smiling yellow hues
lounges comfortably within his visage
coaxing him
and the rest of the semi-hypnotised
'You're just a fly'
'Make like a fly'
He drifts in, head bowed
fiddling distractedly
with a non-existent button
preoccupied, distant from the curious gaze
'You're a busy, important fly who needs to pick up a few odds and ends'
The unobtrusive tunes
of a good enough cover artiste
eases a somewhat conspiratory grin
into his expression
It's the glinting revolving door
that floats you in
from hard, reeking pavemet
to sweet, tender hospitality
lilting and ever so subservient
cushioning your back with springy, orthopaedic mattresses
We're talking
all manner of soothing scents,
intercontinental breakfast menu
spread open by your terry cloth robed side
as soap suds dissipate in the adjoining bath
'Brilliant, just brilliant'
Mr Hobo nods contentedly
"May I help you sir?"
A concerned looking sales attendant
Mr Hobo acknowledges her
with a patronising gaze
"No thanks"
A low murmur
gentle yet assertive
the mark of a truly discerning gentleman
Purposeful yet unperturbed
like the blur of shoppers
who seem to be collectively humming
to the cheap tunes of intercom superstar
piped through with a melamine-like gleen
he makes a beeline
for the bed and linen section
falls backwards
with one swooping motion
unto a fresh, fluffed bed
his nicotine stained hands molesting its comforter sheets
'Cleopatra was brought to Marc Antony rolled up in a persian carpet'
He waits for the reverant attendants
to carry him away
'Just another stinking pile of burning trash to snuggle up to'

Title

Topic

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fictional	FriendshipPoetry	goodbyepoetry
Grief	group	Haiku
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insomniac	InspirationalPoems	InternetLove
limericks	LostLove	LovePoetry
LoveRemembered	MiscPoems	MothersDayPoems
mythology	NaturePoetry	news
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secrets	self-harmpoetry	selfstruggles
SpecialOccassion	spiritual	StoryPoetry
Suicide	surreal	Test Topic
toughstuff	Tributes	war

Language:

Authors Notes

Poem Text (html)
DO NOT remove the line break <br /> html coding at the end of each line break, these are needed to form the correct lines.

A groggy, drowsy hobo<br />
with a prediliction for <br />
delicate scents and silky woven sheets<br />
crisp and cool on skin<br />
loiters by the entrance <br />
of a preening department store<br />
sitting in the middle of a harried intersection<br />
that's spinning with an erratic pulse<br />
One by one<br />
mind calloused individuals<br />
are drawn to the gilded complex<br />
like inconsequential specks of lint<br />
gathered at his fraying coat<br />
Oh hello stranger,<br />
chirps the agreeably muted lighting<br />
its smiling yellow hues<br />
lounges comfortably within his visage<br />
coaxing him<br />
and the rest of the semi-hypnotised <br />
'You're just a fly'<br />
'Make like a fly'<br />
He drifts in, head bowed<br />
fiddling distractedly <br />
with a non-existent button<br />
preoccupied, distant from the curious gaze<br />
'You're a busy, important fly who needs to pick up a few odds and ends'<br />
The unobtrusive tunes<br />
of a good enough cover artiste<br />
eases a somewhat conspiratory grin<br />
into his expression<br />
It's the glinting revolving door<br />
that floats you in<br />
from hard, reeking pavemet<br />
to sweet, tender hospitality<br />
lilting and ever so subservient<br />
cushioning your back with springy, orthopaedic mattresses<br />
We're talking <br />
all manner of soothing scents,<br />
intercontinental breakfast menu<br />
spread open by your terry cloth robed side<br />
as soap suds dissipate in the adjoining bath<br />
'Brilliant, just brilliant'<br />
Mr Hobo nods contentedly<br />
"May I help you sir?"<br />
A concerned looking sales attendant<br />
Mr Hobo acknowledges her<br />
with a patronising gaze<br />
"No thanks"<br />
A low murmur<br />
gentle yet assertive<br />
the mark of a truly discerning gentleman<br />
Purposeful yet unperturbed<br />
like the blur of shoppers<br />
who seem to be collectively humming<br />
to the cheap tunes of intercom superstar<br />
piped through with a melamine-like gleen<br />
he makes a beeline<br />
for the bed and linen section<br />
falls backwards<br />
with one swooping motion<br />
unto a fresh, fluffed bed<br />
his nicotine stained hands molesting its comforter sheets<br />
'Cleopatra was brought to Marc Antony rolled up in a persian carpet'<br />
He waits for the reverant attendants<br />
to carry him away<br />
'Just another stinking pile of burning trash to snuggle up to'<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />

Please note in this textbox below that this poem has been edited, do not put your name, please put as the following:


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