ian mcdougall
  • Ian McDougall
    • Background
    • Humbled by Honour
  • Projects
    • Bloke's Lounge
    • Mentoring >
      • He said, she said
      • Helping the Homeless in more ways than one
    • Save the Post Box
    • Racism
  • Articles
    • MUSICAL MADNESS
    • MY EARLY CARS
    • This (mechanical) life
    • The Thorpe Ascension
    • Goolie grippers
    • Bewdy Bonza guide to Australia
    • Wine descriptors
    • Notes for shop assistants
  • McDoggerel
    • Political >
      • WAR IS A WHORE
      • Joe Hockey
      • Blue Ties
      • Kevin, The Musical
      • LNPeeing in their own next
      • Flegg flogged
      • Your Job
      • We're Shot to Shit
      • Can Do (A Political Pantomime)
      • Bwuce Almighty
      • Election in the Air
      • What The Hell
      • How 'ard?
      • Parly rap
      • About face, about facing the truth
    • Social issues >
      • On The Streets
      • Ready & Able
      • Where I Live
      • Telephone font
    • Here Be Demons >
      • The Truth Comes Out
      • Yeah mate, I know
      • Dread Head
      • Sometimes
      • Black Dog Barking
      • Bark you black dog
    • Other >
      • My car
      • Bloody lawn
      • Night noise
      • The Dunny
      • My Kind of Blue
      • THE CHRISTMAS FRIDGE
      • Kiss Me
      • The Stick
      • Magpie mornings
      • Delhi belly
      • Hinkum booby
      • GRIEF IS THE PRICE OF LOVE
      • Darts for Old Farts
      • Surfers ain't paradise
      • The March
      • CALLIPYGOUS
      • Bangalow Markets
      • Meanderthals
      • Four small words
      • Bessie
      • The Devil Drives a Prado
      • Desert Dawn 1991
      • Your Mobile Phone
      • Your Honour
      • The Tellie
      • I Hate The Train
    • Haiku >
      • Blokey haiku
      • Hospital haiku
      • Other haiku
  • People
    • Surf legend
    • On ya bike, Mal!
    • VALE >
      • Vale: Roger Crook
      • Vale: Nev Brough
      • Vale: Ron Dix
      • Vale: Joan Small
      • Vale: Dal Withers
    • Lieut Clarry McDougall MC >
      • Race meeting at the front
      • March to the Rhine
      • Daybreak surprise
      • Cooyar Cenotaph unveiled
    • J.F. McDougall - Queenslander >
      • J.F. McDougall - family stuff
    • Partners in Recovery >
      • Getting it out there
      • Funky postcards hit the streets
      • Phil's pouches popular
      • New life for Naomi
      • There's magic in music
      • Lessons from the edge of darkness
      • Crafting a future
      • From misery to happiness
      • Dominique - Shades of day
    • Book People >
      • Matthew on road to recovery
      • #1 Kevin Jones
      • #2 Melissa and Ann
      • #3 David Oldfield
      • #4 Multicultural moments
      • #5 Peter Burt
      • #6 Brendan Lauritz
      • #7 Matthew's mutt
      • #8 Dal loves his Wilburs
      • #9 Books found
      • #10 New shoes, new vigour, new hope
      • #11 Up there for thinking
      • #12 Jo's lessons
      • #13 Cowboy takes teens on reality ride
  • Out & about
  • Grumpy Old Fart
Picture
Where I live

I see you
Looking. Staring.
your judgement pierces me like a knife
what do you see when you look at me?
you see a bloke disheveled and dirty
who’s bent up, beaten down … by the world
by society
by people like you who see no further than what is front of them
who make assumptions
you cringe
You turn up your nose
you look away
you cross the road rather than come near me
Are you afraid that I might talk to you?
That I might ask you for money
that I might mug you.
Have no fear, sir
It’d take me three minutes just to get to my knees
Another three to stand up
Yes, my hands tremble
my head shakes
It’s not the DTs
I’m not desperate for my next hit
I get more hits than I can handle
From people like you
your attitude
Your dismissal
your refusal to see me as a person
Come on, come closer
I dare you!

Picture
The only hand out I want is yours to help me up
So you can look me in the eyes
And see a fellow human being
but you’ll keep walking
Past me, past the others down the street like me
Yes, we are desperate … but we are not desperados
When night comes I’ll curl up
I’ll pull the newspapers over me
I’ll curl up in the box
curl up in my own shell
Pray that it doesn’t rain
Pray that people don’t come along and kick me
Spit on me
piss on me
Beat me senseless.
I’ll massage my aching arthritic joints
While waiting for the Rosie’s van
For the kindness, for a hot cup of soup
for a friendly ear
They’ve heard my story scores of times
yet they listen as if I’m telling it for the first time

Tomorrow it’s my turn to go to the shelter
To have a shower
to get some clean clothes
to speak to mental health worker
He might be able to get me into the clinic this week
So I can get some medication to stop the tremors
To quiet my mind
to ease my painful joints
maybe some physio
I’ll get fed for a week - two if I'm lucky -
before it’s someone else’s turn for a warm bed and a roof over their head
then I’m back here, where you are walking away from
You turn
You are looking back to see
 if I am looking up to see
 if you were looking back at me
I'm not.

eoin macdhugail April 2008

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