The Bum Poem by Juan Olivarez

Reach out your hand and touch,
your brother, that you never knew.
He does'nt ask for very much,
reach out, there are just, too few that do.

His cardboard house, on the sidewalk,
is all the home, he's had for years,
and the filthy rags upon his back,
should make your eyes break out in tears.

Your bellys full, you have no sense,
of what he's gone through to survive.
Do you know you owe him recompense?
For what he did early in his life.

When he was young he went away,
to risk his life in foreign lands.
So your way of life would not decay,
and now look at his trembling hands.

Everyone he ever knew, turned their backs to him.
Baby killer, they screamed out loud,
then went to church, and sang their hymns.
I hope they feel very proud.

So brother, can you spare a dime?
I'm sure you've heard that line before.
Don't be so proud, there might come a time,
when you might be there on the floor.

Reach out and take your brothers hand,
he who fought for you so far away.
And don't be disgusted take a stand,
give him a hand, then be on your way.

5/18/10 29 palms ca.