Here I sit on a bench.
Lost all to a called friend.
Intoxicated again.
Babies money - down the drain.
College gone - lost the farm.
Needle in my arm.
Next trip to suicide path right.
It's all gone, the glitter lights lure.
No shoes, lost the blue suede.
Again the feel of the cold bench.
Church is where I belong.
GOD, will right the wrong.
I must pray and have faith.
Stoic armor soul, to recapture.
PRAY AND GAIN FAITH
from my new book,
THE BEGGAR plus SELECT POETRY
search: POEWHIT
JESUS SAVES
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
yes if fact we've all gambled away the milk money and been powerless.......until we sink far enough down the bottomless pit, and rejoice we found a Rock under it! ! ! .