ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
It's got to be said, that using a cardboard box, with its sides split, as a shelter from the rain isn't the best idea ever. After receiving so much moisture, it begins to sag and raps around you in your sleep, often without you realising. When you wake up, and you push away the sodden remains of your temporary home, your entire body shakes. Often, certainly half a dozen times in my case, this will later be followed by a severe cold, or on two occasions for myself, pneumonia. After going through the ritual of checking you're still alive, it's off to work. If you've ever been so unfortunate as to lose everything, except the clothes on your back thankfully, you'd understand just how soul destroying it is when those with so much refuse to give you anything, not even a moment of their time for a chat.
Of course, it's entirely my fault I'm in this situation. The recession was my fault. My wife having an affair and leaving me for Richard, with his flashy car and crisp tie, was also entirely my fault. The men who robbed my home, were clearly there to show me my comeuppance. The job cuts at work, well that was all down to me, because I'd only joined them a month ago, after transferring from another town, regardless of the fact I was the most qualified, by far. The rent going unpaid, after I couldn't find any work, and my morals on not taking job seekers allowance, as it's not the tax payers job to support me, meant the bailiffs came over for a visit, and took everything, along with the keys to my home, and all my photos on the mantelpiece, of my little girl at the zoo for her third birthday. The divorce settlement gave most of those possessions to my ex-wife, the rest, well, God knows where they went.
The shoppers and passers-by give me funny looks, some even comment, most drag their children by the hand to the other side of the street, in case I'm contagious. An alcoholic for sure, or a drugs taker, lazy, moocher. No one cares who you are when you're no higher than a rat in society's eyes. Old Bill, he's been on the streets for six years, but he taught himself how to play the flute, and he has a dog, so he does manage to get a sandwich at the end of the day. He got beaten up though. A group of teen lads disagreed with his money making scheme, and made sure he wouldn't sit on this high street again. He certainly keeps to his word, I'll give him that.
What do I do to survive? Well, I ask myself that same question every morning. How do I get through today? Do I beg? Search through trash cans, perhaps? Steal? No, that's just as bad as job seekers allowance. Why am I not dead yet? My bones protrude out of my skin. My clothes, before so tight fitting, now hang limply over my shoulders. I don't complain though, after all, it could be worse. I could be beaten black and blue, ribs shattered, collar bone smashed like Old Bill. I could be addicted to some substance, like so many others, like the public expect of me. I'm just a guy, sitting on your sidewalk, getting through each day, with his faith in mankind still intact, despite the stares, despite the comments; I still have faith in them.
Of course, it's entirely my fault I'm in this situation. The recession was my fault. My wife having an affair and leaving me for Richard, with his flashy car and crisp tie, was also entirely my fault. The men who robbed my home, were clearly there to show me my comeuppance. The job cuts at work, well that was all down to me, because I'd only joined them a month ago, after transferring from another town, regardless of the fact I was the most qualified, by far. The rent going unpaid, after I couldn't find any work, and my morals on not taking job seekers allowance, as it's not the tax payers job to support me, meant the bailiffs came over for a visit, and took everything, along with the keys to my home, and all my photos on the mantelpiece, of my little girl at the zoo for her third birthday. The divorce settlement gave most of those possessions to my ex-wife, the rest, well, God knows where they went.
The shoppers and passers-by give me funny looks, some even comment, most drag their children by the hand to the other side of the street, in case I'm contagious. An alcoholic for sure, or a drugs taker, lazy, moocher. No one cares who you are when you're no higher than a rat in society's eyes. Old Bill, he's been on the streets for six years, but he taught himself how to play the flute, and he has a dog, so he does manage to get a sandwich at the end of the day. He got beaten up though. A group of teen lads disagreed with his money making scheme, and made sure he wouldn't sit on this high street again. He certainly keeps to his word, I'll give him that.
What do I do to survive? Well, I ask myself that same question every morning. How do I get through today? Do I beg? Search through trash cans, perhaps? Steal? No, that's just as bad as job seekers allowance. Why am I not dead yet? My bones protrude out of my skin. My clothes, before so tight fitting, now hang limply over my shoulders. I don't complain though, after all, it could be worse. I could be beaten black and blue, ribs shattered, collar bone smashed like Old Bill. I could be addicted to some substance, like so many others, like the public expect of me. I'm just a guy, sitting on your sidewalk, getting through each day, with his faith in mankind still intact, despite the stares, despite the comments; I still have faith in them.
Literature
Supposed to, but
You're supposed to be there for me
But you really never are
You're supposed to know me
But really you don't know anything
You're supposed to chase me when I run out of the room
But you never leave your chair
You're supposed to love me when I'm happy
But instead you bring me down
You're supposed to hug me when I cry
But instead you just hit harder
You're supposed to know when something's wrong
But instead you just make things worse
You're supposed to miss me when I'm gone
But I doubt you'd even notice
Literature
The Wanderer
There was only the sun, and the thirst. For a while it hadn't been so bad, more of a nagging sensation than anything else but as the miles passed and one by the one the others who'd followed in the dark skinned woman's wake collapsed it had changed. From a quiet nagging it grew to be all consuming; blotting out everything else. Now there was just it and the ever more irregular rhythm of her steps as one followed the other, each one harder than the last. But still she staggered onwards beneath the sun's heat, following the woman who'd set out so boldly who knew how long ago. As others gave up and collapsed, never to move again, she carried on,
Literature
Darkn3ss
Reaching out for you
only to find a pillow filled with tears.
Where have you gone?
Silences fill the room as I breathe in.
I close my eyes and see the darkness
its coming over me.
The moon hides itself in fear
And the sun pushes through.
I open my eyes.
I see nothing. I feel nothing.
How much longer do I have?
til I break down
things here aren't right
I can't take the fight….
I feel lost
and the only thing that brings me back
is the hint of a smile in your voice.
Makes me remember what Im here for.
I live for you, I cry for you and I would die for you.
All in one day.... if I could just be with you.
As night falls b
Featured in Groups
I was trying something new with this piece, for one thing it's written in a males perspective, which is something I've never tried before, although that isn't too big an issue in this piece. I wanted to look through a different perspective, and I was recommended a homeless guy. I usually don't sypathise too much with men like this guy, because like the mentioned public, I assume he was responsible, but I thought I'd try sympathising. I hope I've done it justice.
For the
.
Is my character convincing enough? Do you really feel that he has been through a tough time, or is it not convincing enough? Do you think my writing style, (first person and informal) is the best way to express his experiences or does it not do the issue justice? Thanks all.
For the
. Is my character convincing enough? Do you really feel that he has been through a tough time, or is it not convincing enough? Do you think my writing style, (first person and informal) is the best way to express his experiences or does it not do the issue justice? Thanks all.
© 2010 - 2024 CherryPie545
Comments27
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
i sat at my desk grumbling for a good hour or two with your piece open in a firefox tab after i read it because i hadn't read the artist comments yet and i wanted to comment because i like it, but i really don't feel as much sympathy for the character as this type of piece generally wants, so i thought i possibly shouldn't 
anyhow, i read your artist comments and now it's all better. moving on, i thought the style was quite effective, and the character's situation is convincing enough, and if i sat on a park bench next to a stranger who told me this, i'd probably offer to buy him lunch or some such. i don't find it particularly believable though, since i generally feel that it takes a series of very unfortunate fairly unlikely things to all happen at once to make it so there is no possibility of recovering and that there's usually a way out, but that's just from my views on life i think, so i'm not sure you can fix your story in any way. just a thought though. it did seem to be kind of a "oh, what're the chances of THAT happening" for each new sentence, perhaps not for the divorce and job loss, but that he's super qualified and got cut and then couldn't find a job, AND got robbed AND still couldn't get any work...i found it a bit contrived but again, just me i think.
this also sort of falls into a fairly...i hesitate to say stereotypical because it isn't a cookie cutter or templated piece in the slightest...but...standard i guess?...type of construction of events for a story about the issue of homelessness. you did a freaking awesome job of it, especially since you don't sympathize with them so much normally, and it's honestly quite fantastic you could make me believe you were another homeless sympathizer who believes we assume too much blah blah blah...you did a great job expressing the issue, and it was very well written.
i'll say it again with a new line so it's not lost in block of text: you did a great job expressing the issue and it was very well written.
from there i would suggest that maybe put a different take on the issue, perhaps instead of your character being entirely faultless and really truly completely clean and innocent like every homeless sympathizer seems to like to make their characters, make him admit to or show that he indeed did make some poor decisions, or perhaps that he is in fact involved with some drugs or alcohol, either as a result of living on the streets for awhile or from his miserable situation leading up to him being on the streets to address that there are indeed people who have propagated the assumption (admittedly sometimes or perhaps often ignorant assumption) that the homeless are druggies and drunkards. perhaps as well you could make him have some of these faults, and still have him be a character who you sympathize with, where yes he made some poor decisions, but even though it's partially his fault, he's in a bad situation and shouldn't be ignored and trod-upon by society?
again just my thoughts, and sorry for the blocks of text. hope some of the ideas or suggestions helped at all. i'm not suggesting you put them into this piece because it made me stop instead of ignoring it as another freaking homelessness piece but perhaps they help for the future and such.
anyhow, i read your artist comments and now it's all better. moving on, i thought the style was quite effective, and the character's situation is convincing enough, and if i sat on a park bench next to a stranger who told me this, i'd probably offer to buy him lunch or some such. i don't find it particularly believable though, since i generally feel that it takes a series of very unfortunate fairly unlikely things to all happen at once to make it so there is no possibility of recovering and that there's usually a way out, but that's just from my views on life i think, so i'm not sure you can fix your story in any way. just a thought though. it did seem to be kind of a "oh, what're the chances of THAT happening" for each new sentence, perhaps not for the divorce and job loss, but that he's super qualified and got cut and then couldn't find a job, AND got robbed AND still couldn't get any work...i found it a bit contrived but again, just me i think.
this also sort of falls into a fairly...i hesitate to say stereotypical because it isn't a cookie cutter or templated piece in the slightest...but...standard i guess?...type of construction of events for a story about the issue of homelessness. you did a freaking awesome job of it, especially since you don't sympathize with them so much normally, and it's honestly quite fantastic you could make me believe you were another homeless sympathizer who believes we assume too much blah blah blah...you did a great job expressing the issue, and it was very well written.
i'll say it again with a new line so it's not lost in block of text: you did a great job expressing the issue and it was very well written.
from there i would suggest that maybe put a different take on the issue, perhaps instead of your character being entirely faultless and really truly completely clean and innocent like every homeless sympathizer seems to like to make their characters, make him admit to or show that he indeed did make some poor decisions, or perhaps that he is in fact involved with some drugs or alcohol, either as a result of living on the streets for awhile or from his miserable situation leading up to him being on the streets to address that there are indeed people who have propagated the assumption (admittedly sometimes or perhaps often ignorant assumption) that the homeless are druggies and drunkards. perhaps as well you could make him have some of these faults, and still have him be a character who you sympathize with, where yes he made some poor decisions, but even though it's partially his fault, he's in a bad situation and shouldn't be ignored and trod-upon by society?
again just my thoughts, and sorry for the blocks of text. hope some of the ideas or suggestions helped at all. i'm not suggesting you put them into this piece because it made me stop instead of ignoring it as another freaking homelessness piece but perhaps they help for the future and such.