.
Victor Silverspoon-Pinke thinks my three rooms
would be far too mean to fit his needs.
His kitchen could swallow my entire space,
yet still he complains;
I need new units, my carpet is wearing thin, this neighbourhood is becoming too dingy for my liking. Why can’t my life be tailored to my requirements? Am I not deserving? My stocks started sinking the day that I paid for the landscaping, and now my top-of-the-range coffee machine has gone to meet its maker. It would be cheaper to replace it online, but I can’t wait for days, so I’ll have to sacrifice an extra sixty and drive it away.
Watching from my window,
I see the nameless stranger whose many faces we all know,
as she crosses the road, trudging toward her concrete bed.
Toting tattered ‘bags for life’ – only ten pence each from Tesco
she totters on in stained and torn, oversize trainers.
Her knees ache, her heart has forgotten what it feels like to be full,
but her eyes are dry;
she gave up any expectation that her life would ever
be tailored to her requirements
the day the debtors took her home away.
The streets offer no relief from the sniping chill,
bones freeze and stay frozen, until
you learn to survive
by evading the pain of sobriety.
So who are we to criticise and blame?
If such misfortune snatched us up,
we may do the same.
The nameless stranger’s smudged frame is engulfed
by a fringe of leafy trees,
swallowed like a guilty secret.
I rise from my seat, walk the short space from room one to room two,
brew a cup of tea to sweeten my thoughts,
but fail to shake a lonely image from my mind,
as somewhere beyond my sight,
the nameless woman shuffles on,
into the brief obscurity of gritty sleep.
Tomorrow I will wake in room three,
stretch languidly and lie awhile in peace,
saunter to room two, prepare my favourite breakfast,
step into room one and savour it,
shamefully faced away from the street, lest I should see
something too disturbing
for so early in the day,
Victor Silverspoon-Pinke will rise dissatisfied with his mass-produced life, irritated by the instructions that came with his sleek new coffee machine, added to which, it makes his six year old, bespoke oak cabinets look yet more inappropriate for his distinguished name and his expectations high. He’ll dread the moment when he checks the price of his shares. Frowning at the framed vista of his freshly sculpted acres he’ll complain that the contrived landscape leaves something to be desired,
and the nameless woman will have risen at daybreak,
silently packed up her bedding and trailed away,
head cast down, scanning the sodden ground,
searching for small change.
.
The Daily post #Tailor
©Jane Paterson Basil
DEEP! Jane. Loved it
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The nameless are always around us, especially in the bigger cities of life. I’ve just recently moved from a small community of 3,000+ to a city of 100, 000+. The nameless are more visible. At first, I gave out of sympathy and shock of what I saw. Now I can’t anymore. It’s too overwhelming. Community governments need to step in to solve the problem of homelessness.
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Have you heard of SquareOne Villages in Eugene, Oregon?http://www.squareonevillages.org/
I’d like to see projects like that everywhere, backed up by a more thorough approach to addiction recovery – not that all rough sleepers are addicts.
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I watched the Ed Bryant ‘Tiny House Movement’. It was heart-warming to see this.
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Reblogged this on crjen1958.
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There are some, trapped on the street, where i was
a longtime ago, now it’s a way of life… However even i am
looking at the inside, mostly because i keep losing things
which i need…
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Thanks for reblogging, Chris.
One of my friends on the street was given somewhere to live. He feels closed in of he’s indoors for long, so he still spends a lot of his time on the street, but he has a place to put his stuff and feel safe when he needs to.
I expect you know about: http://www.squareonevillages.org/
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Yeah! i have such a place, only by canadian law, the maid, (common law, only in canada)
can stay there until she dies or moves..
She was able to stop me because of the crazy law we have here in canada,
i can’t even go into a place that i own,
an grew-up learn to walk in…
What a f_cked up country, i’m embarrassed, to call this my country…
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I used to think the Canadian Government was pretty good – it’s what I was told, but since I started logging and talking to Canadians I realise I must have been misinformed..
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It’s not all that bad, just i’m stuck in a bad place, which morality doesn’t pull weight…
kisses chris
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The winters must be hard for you…
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Not really, they’re becoming more mild, as each year passes…
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We all have different ideas about what mild means… the weather never goes much below freezing over here in the UK – I don’t think I’d cope too well with your winters…
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You mean cold an wet…
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Yeah -the UK’s wet, but not as cold as it used to be…
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i found the same here, only it’s always wet…
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I always thought of Canada as being dry, but snowy in winter… can’t believe we’re having an in-depth conversation about the weather… we Brits are famous for that…
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damn darling,
it won’t be polite
to move into the erotica….
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I expect you’ve forgotten we covered that about a year ago… across thousands of miles of sea and continent…
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We did?
an where was i?
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Oops, i said that?
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What…?
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Never mind!
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Jesus said, “the poor we will always have with us.” In 1964 the US government embarked on its War on Poverty. In the ensuing fifty plus years, after having spent trillions on that “war”, the number of poor in the US has increased while many of those administrating the “war” became wealthy. It looks like Jesus was right and that the best intentions will fall victim to human greed.
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It’s sad. We’ve seen it throughout history. Corruption and greed. Last night I dreamed I found a small plastic bag full of money on the floor of the shop. I told the shopkeeper, who whispered “Keep it”. A distraught woman came in searching the floor, and asked the shopkeeper if he’s seen a wallet. He said he hadn’t. I kept quiet, the money tightly held in my fist, trying to justify myself with the thought that I hadn’t found a wallet. After she left I felt terrible. I looked for her, but she’d gone. I woke up feeling terrible, asking myself; in different circumstances, in a different life, would I have kept the money?
My lesson for today – and most days – is to try to be less judgemental.
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Reminds me of the story about the little boy who found a purse that contained a one hundred dollar bill. He went to the address that he found inside the purse and handed it over to the lady who answered the door. She looked inside the purse and found 100 one dollar bills. She asked the boy why there were singles instead of the one bill and he replied,” the last time I found some money and returned it the lady didn’t have any change for a tip.”
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Haha, You mustt have a bible quote for that – something about not seeking reward?
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very well said Jane, packed with your punch of reality, sprinkled with societies insanity ..
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Thank you Kate 🙂
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The haves and the have nots. I wander who is more content with their lot. I know which one I would pick 🙂
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Imagine spending your whole life striving for more of what you already have too much of.
Pointless!;)
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Yeah – like a cat chasing it’s tale without the fun.
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The mind usually wants what it cannot get … that is desire. Mind makes a good servant and a poor master.
As you write, “imagine spending your whole life striving for more of what you already have too much of”? … Maybe pointless? I believe so, too.
Karma is what we accumulate throughout life. It has been said that when dying, the mind rushes to it’s desire? Karma will dictate what our next life lessons will be. Karma, dharma and maya. Leading to moksha.
http://www.spaceandmotion.com/
https://ultraculture.org/blog/2014/12/16/heres-visual-guide-10-dimensions-reality/
Cheers Jamie.
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Thank you for the two links… especially the one about the ten dimensions. I’ve bookmarked it to show to my brother, an atheist who is fascinated by dimensions beyond the third. He takes it from a mathematical point of view, and believes they’re out there, and yet he finds the idea of a creator too huge for him to accept or contemplate.
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“Her knees ache, her heart has forgotten what it feels like to be full,
but her eyes are dry;
she gave up any expectation that her life would ever
be tailored to her requirements…”
Sigh… Jane, you are becoming such a fabulous storyteller…
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Thank you Calen – I consider that a massive compliment, coming from you…
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Your powers of observation are just so acute.
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I’m still learning…
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Reblogged this on Sumyanna Writes and commented:
Wow. Fabulous write by the ever-talented Jane Basil.
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Beautifully written… As if we were there with you. Something more should read…
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Thank you for reblogging, Sumyanna. The shout-out means a lot to me.
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You’re welcome Jane. I found it truly a wonderful write and had to share 🙂 You’re welcome.
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xxx
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Aye, so Beautifully Tragic. 🥀🥀🥀
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Thank you…
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