I bought a copy of the poem below from a guy who was desperately trying to raise money for a bed in a hostel. I hope he wouldn’t mind me reproducing it here. I wanted to give a voice to those of us not fortunate enough to have a roof over our heads this Christmas. The number of rough sleepers in Brighton has doubled over the last year. Please show your support for the charities doing excellent work in this area such as: Brighton Housing Trust, Shelter, The Clock Tower Sanctuary) etc. (there are many others). I can’t believe this is still such a problem in a so-called civilised country.
I open up the curtains,
The sky outside is grey and cloudy,
This time of year affects me,
This misery is all around me,
I can’t understand the joy,
that I see all about me feel,
Office parties and celebrations,
even down to the Christmas meal,
I’ve always longed for it to finish,
just skip straight to new year,
Then excitement fills my body,
When I feel the warmer climate near,
the way forward is hibernation,
I suppose that’s most teenagers though,
Smoking weed on their console or station,
I’m not a Scrooge or Grinch,
I do wish others a great time,
Just guess that as seasons go,
Crimbo is not a favourite of mine,
So happy Christmas my friend,
and I hope the New Year is blessed.
I only ask that Christmas songs or telly,
Could pack it in or give it a bloody rest.