Food Not Bombs Poem by Barlot ...

I handed a cookie to a homeless man today
In a slurred speech he told me,
'God's got big plans for you.'
That might be true
That might be right
But tonight I'll be back to my social standard self-
Wearing overpriced clothes
Putting colors over my eyes and nose
And pretending to be...
Elite.
The money spent on my lifestyle
Could help 22 men on the street
But time shant allow such
Too much is wasted on politicians
And physicians and judges
Thoreau's rugged lifestyle is what I long for-
Building cabins and hopping trains,
Letting beats be the only fuel for my brain.
And when it rains, I'll be on that park swing
With the other beings who know about life
Strife and suffering are inducers of longing
And living and love.
Above all things is purpose
Which I now know I have.
Watching people take their bath in a fountain
And eat from the buckets we set up
And the plastic cups and knives and spoons.
Pretty soon it's not going to matter
Just occupying mass and matter,
Waiting for it all to be over
Or just the chance to be less...
Elite.