feel good factor

was he small fry?

was he insignificant and thought to be not worth a smile?

was he the guy who would stand alone under a street lamp when he was fifty years old

and look into the black night in front of him and cry?

did he belie his soul for fifty years and was the only lie ever told the lie he told his own poor ears?

was it his way of life that entered him into an eventual struggle with poverty and misery

coupled with an ageless remorse that seemed far more ancient that his own self?

it almost seemed like his blood came down from an age of losers loosing the crown to maggots who wanted nothing but money and fame

a generation of human beings who the good aliens came and brainwashed into being unforgiving altruists

to whom they entrusted a great plan to overcome the evils of man.

a race of man now failed by its ultimate offspring,

to cling to a light post and sing the songs that only the extremely sad and lonely sing.

a song of tears and clattering teeth and unruly beard

a song of shattering backbone and torn trousers not worth the trouble of stitching up since they were more holes than trousers

was he nothing but 'just a beggar' on the street

unclassified, unrecognized and greeted with blind eyes

was he just another feel good factor for those in such urgent need

was he but a tool for society to displace its occasional guilty whim

was he no one but him, and him being no one, what was he then?