Due to the out-pouring of love and reverence for the life of "Shakey", we were able to find his family. Respecting their wishes and traditional ways of laying their family members to rest, we have been authorized to have a memorial service following his final resting. The family has expressed their sincere appreciation to all who have prevented the unfortunate outcome that many of our community members face when it comes to relying on the system for reverence & respect in the end.
A Homeless Man
Those cold hands sheltered in his lap...
A simple life chosen to live, perhaps?
Could no bed be offered though?
Not even a chair?
In that desolate, gray street of the city
frozen like ice, but still calmly sitting
a cigarette is lit
and- smoking, fretting, spitting -
he makes his retreat from human affairs
And so, another lonely story
without any care
shoots a puffy white cloud
of smoke in the air
and I can't help but stare...
at all of his dreams
briefly lingering there
as he disappears
leaving the cold, winter road seem
And the sun in the sky is
In my eyes, as it rises
I look at this guy
As he tries not to cry his
Sometimes we drive by
even though he needs help
The indifference within
is a sin in itself
Only focused on the ladders
we climb and we climb
And Heaven forbid
if you're not to work on time
Maybe he's hungry; he very well could be sad
Maybe bad luck's all the luck that he's had
Perhaps he was rich and traded stocks for big cash
'till the whole market crashed
- fortune gone in a flash
Maybe he thought,
'In America, land of Prosperity,
With so many Christian hearts filled with Sincerity
Surely someone will lead me back to the fun
I'll repay them their kindness - no harm will be done…'
'…But in the Home of the Brave and the greatest of lands
Not one single man will lend me a hand...
When an insult and pocket change is all that I find
In my sweet home America - I must've lost my mind! '
I see the sun in your eyes,
in the sky as it rises
Remember my friend,
life is full of surprises
And one day…
You may find yourself standing next to him
Beggin' for bucks; beggin' for change;
Down on your luck; down in the drain;
Lookin' aroun' with a frown on your face
Cuz you ran outta gas
and now your ass is sittin' out of the race
Could you ever let go of the stuff you don't need?
Or, is it deep in your bones and the blood that you bleed?
did you read the fine print in your contract on the day you signed your soul and life away?
if you ever see a lonely story
Without any care
cold wind in his hair
Maybe his thumb in the air...
Stare if you dare
but, consider it fair - -
Fairly likely that one day
It could be little
Poem by Ray Quesada