Old Stinky Joe

Old Stinky Joe

The bed I lie on is made of concrete or soil

Evil talks to me both day and night

Each day is a toil

Would suicide make it right

What a mess I’ve become

Despair is my friend

Everything feels dumb

Maybe this is the end

Drugs and booze

What a way to lose

Is there nothing left to choose

Except maybe another bottle of booze

I once had a wife

A house and a car

But that was another life

Cause I can’t even sit in a bar

They say urine is my scent

My breath is a sewer pipe

Am I completely bent

Am I worth a bleeding cent?

Now I try to sleep

Screw you and your world

For I can no longer weep.

For my life is uncurled.

Authors Notes

I have worked a life time with people and watched homelessness

grow and fester. Old Stinky Joe was a name I once heard used by

an educated rising star in a hotel chain. The rythmes are far from perfect

but neither was Old Joe.

Bruce Curle 2025