CALCUTTA, NEW YORK
BY JUDY JOY JONES
A musician friend of mine lives in New York City and tells me how many homeless people there are everywhere and how NYC reminds her more and more of Calcutta, India. People live in cardboard boxes, on bridges, in streets and everywhere.
I thought of Mayor Bloomberg and what an example he could make to try and house the homeless. I am wondering why mayors are paid: to do what? They allow their citizens to go hungry and die on streets.
I wrote this poem about the horrid suffering of the homeless because I couldn’t really believe that the mayor who is supposed to take care of the citizens of a city was not doing so.
We all go to sleep every night with the grim realities of the unimaginable suffering of homeless people in New York CIty — and most cities.
POEM FOR NYC
BY JUDY JOY JONES
mayor bloomberg
is king for day
but could be
a god thru eternity
leading all
thru heavens doors
when he feeds
houses and tenderly
cares for the poor
all over the streets
of the city he keeps
reminding everyone
greatness is earned
by the deeds we do
each person we see
with no food or home
could be our mother father
sister and brother
whose only hope
is you and me
in one day
bloomberg could
wipe every tear away
with a few dollars
from the billions he saves
trading his title of king
for compassionate god
whose only goal
is the well being of all
isn’t that
what mayors are for?
Words We Speak 