Mystic Tramp

I was Somebody once, before the hunger and cold
And numb hands scavenging for loot,
Or the scrounging of scraps from the slaughter house
And news papers lining each boot.
Before the stink of wornout rags made efforts to protect my body
Before the brewing of my guts in meths,
Somewhere, sometime I was somebody.
A Knife, a box, a toothless comb, to such things now I hold on fast
Reminding me of Time long past.
Sitting by the moonlit river, sipping cocoa from an empty can,
Such is the privileged escape from the great rat-race of modern man.
I spew the lukewarm loving kindness
That oozes from official hearts,
While vivesecting scalpel pens
Prise open all my secret parts.
Oh, let me be! Let me alone
Unravel Self to its full height
As each morning the cock’s shrill crow
Retrieves another day from the grip of night.