We are part of an army
\nwe may be broken spirited
\nlost souls on a journey
\nto a new life anywhere
\nput out by the human tribe
\nlost souls we are lost souls
\nwandering the lonely streets
\nand just finding despair<\/p>\n
cruelty and larceny and evil
\nseems to follow us
\ncreeping in the shadows
\nthe darkest depths of sin
\nthis is not existence
\nthough we fight to stay alive
\nseriously most of us
\nknow we can never win<\/p>\n
many of us are injured
\nlured into a false regard
\noffered food and water
\nand poisoned by the mob
\nbeaten with whatever
\nbroken limbs we get them
\nas the winter storms across
\nthe land it tends to rob<\/p>\n
us really of all semblance
\nof comfort for its icy blasts
\ndrive us to confusion
\nas to really where to go
\nto get out of the biting winds
\nthat gnaw into our very core
\nand kill so many of us
\nfrozen in the snow<\/p>\n
our dreams to sit around a fire
\nand share the glowing embers
\nto curl up in a basket
\nwith a bone perhaps
\nwho remembers
\nthose days when we were part
\nof a family those were great
\nsomehow we got lost
\nwhen we just walked out the gate<\/p>\n
some of us were taken
\nto the countryside and left
\nsome were just thrown
\non the free way
\nbloody well bereft
\nsome were taken to the pound
\nsome just walk about
\nand I got lost
\nand have been tossed
\ninto a life of doubt<\/p>\n
the people can be lovely
\nbut most alas a rough
\ndisgruntled in their own lives
\nthey have some real strange stuff
\ngoing on it seems to me
\nfor what they do to us
\nput poison meat down
\nhow do we know
\nand many more just cuss<\/p>\n
they throw sticks at us
\nscream at us
\nno matter where we go
\naround just any corner
\nsome kid will want to throw
\na brick perhaps
\nor worse still
\nwill take a pot shot and
\na slug inside your leg
\ncan fester well you understand<\/p>\n
then we get so dirty
\nso much filth on the street
\npuddles we try to wash in
\nwe get spikes in our feet
\none of my friends was targeted
\nwith a blow lamp she was burned
\npeople really are very sick
\nand few souls are concerned<\/p>\n
we know of course you are out there
\nsome of you would be
\nloving and caring to us
\nbut most can’t feel our plea
\nwe look at them with doleful eyes
\nbut that they do not see
\nthey do want us around their homes
\nand so realistically<\/p>\n
we have to bugger off
\nto places where less humans are
\nin parks in woods in forests
\naway from the demon car
\nin farms when we might share some grub
\nput down for those there
\nwhen you get desperate to find some food
\nit really drives you spare<\/p>\n
and when you get to a town somewhere
\nand you see the humans who
\nare going about their business
\nsome just don’t see you
\nsomeone might open a can
\nand feed you for that day
\nbut most just scream and shout at you
\nand you have to run a way<\/p>\n
holed up in a church yard
\nin a vehicle that’s been dumped
\nin boarded houses empty offices
\nactually I’ve jumped
\nup and through a broken window
\nto get out of the cold
\nit makes one feel so uncomfortable
\nit reminds me of when I rolled<\/p>\n
in the snow with the children
\nbut quickly got by the fire
\nbut they are only memories
\nI have a big truck tyre
\nI sometimes go and sleep in
\nits outside in a yard
\nthe problem is there’s a bloody dog
\nthere always he’s on guard
\nloose and so I have to watch it
\nI creep in late at night
\nand hope to god he doesn’t hear me
\nfor he’d soon put out my light<\/p>\n
broken legs are the problem
\ninduced by some vile troll
\nthey come out with their bloody brooms and sticks
\nand bars the toll
\non us strays is significant
\nwe suffer many injuries and we
\nreally then all go down hill
\nand most peg out in a few weeks
\nthe shock alas does kill<\/p>\n
we are a strays
\nan army of us wanders here and there
\nfrom being very happy
\nwe soon find true despair
\nwe hate the winter months of course
\nwhen everything is white
\nand frozen all the ponds the bird baths
\nand we have to fight<\/p>\n
our corner every single moment
\nhopeful of a break
\nsome warm food put down for us
\nor even some old stale cake
\nwe do get into dustbins
\naround the back of stores
\ncompeting with the rats and cats
\nand really scores and scores
\nof roaches that frequent those dumps
\nbut beggars cannot choose
\nif we are lucky then we are lucky
\notherwise we lose<\/p>\n
so anything you can do for us
\neven a warm smile
\nhelps us on our way sometimes
\nto get through another mile
\nhopeful we can find some friends
\nwho will help us for an hour
\nwith a little food and water
\nto inject is us some power<\/p>\n
think long and hard my beauties
\nin the warmth of your sweet homes
\nremember on those cold dark nights
\nthe stray one how he combs
\nthe forest and the bare streets
\nhopeful for a kill
\ncompeting with the crows that fly
\nsharing the blood spill<\/p>\n
I have to now be honest though
\neuthanasia comes
\nsometimes some of us get picked up
\nthat how I’ve lost some chums
\nthey go away and are never seen again
\ngassed may be they
\nget sent to the rainbow bridge
\nor to summer lands some say<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
We are part of an army we may be broken spirited lost souls on a journey to a new life anywhere put out by the human tribe lost souls we are lost souls wandering the lonely streets and just finding … Continue reading