Do You Know Him? Poem by PAUL COLVIN

They say we’re born equal
With some more so than others
They reach a point and gain control
Compare you to your brother.

Weak minded people from old to young
Succumb to daily life.
Their needs so great, drugs won’t last long
Addiction today, is rife.

We all know one who’s followed this path
Down dark and lonely blackened road.
He looks so gaunt through bearded face
Unkempt, unwashed, forlorn.

His dirty nails, so thick with grime
His coat hangs long on weakened frame.
The matted, lank and greasy hair
A tangled mess, his mane.

His legs they shake beneath his jeans
The dirt it masks their colour.
All torn and frayed with stains galore
Against all odds, he stands alone.

The weather beaten face shows signs
Of sleeping rough, if he’s allowed.
Despised and shunned by yours and mine,
What hope for a man, once proud.

His eyes are red with pupils black
A wrinkled brow on winter tan.
A buttonhole with poppy shows
This man had pride not long ago.

It’s now his lot and no one else
Can help this poor frail drifter.
He’s labelled as a druggy now
In our midst, a social leper.

A buttoned shirt with collar rank
Lies loosely round his neck.
A shabby tie with perfect shank,
Reminds him of his past.

He sits no more at office desk
Nor walks the factory floor.
He’s mumbling by a river’s edge
With another drink to pour.

He seeks no pleasures for himself
That’s what we’d like to think.
He’s hurting still and wants some help
That’s why he’s turned to drink.

The sodden grass is now his seat
His view is nature’s own
He gazes long with clouded eyes
To the house which was his home.

This pathetic portrait of a man
What made him take this route?
His threadbare boots just clinging on
Together, held by rope.

His only friend, a mangy dog
Its fleas jump high and wide.
A mongrel with no collar tag,
It sidles by his side.

He cons a lady for a coin
To buy food for his friend!
Obliging, gives him what he wants
He’s happy once again.

He once knew why he went this way
But that was long ago
The drink and drugs have messed his head
Now he no longer knows.

He knows what people think of him
A druggie, thief or alky.
But he is someone’s kith and kin
One of us? Not likely.

He sleeps in cardboard under stars,
If lucky, on a bench.
Do we think of him while we’re all snug?
The vomit, piss, the stench!

You’d think he’d lose the will to live
Just curl up and die.
But something worthwhile living for
Is keeping him alive.

Something stirs inside his head,
Amidst all his confusion
He jumps aloft eyes shining bright
Then passes to oblivion.

A daughter, son for all we know
Is with him in his head.
But once that dream has vanished, gone.
We’ll likely hear he’s dead.

Who he was and who he is
We’ll never ever know.
I’ll tell no lie for we don’t care
If he was friend or foe.

His like are worthless to us all
They scrounge for all they have.
They should wear plaques about their neck
For all they spell is trouble.

What will be the epitaph
Atop where he will lie?
He took that road, went up that path
Equality with him, did die!