We Don’t Want no Hobo’s in Our Neighborhood

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There are certain hobos, mostly younger women, who try and interact with the general public that is passing by, try to see themselves as just another girl out shopping.

You can see the tight, God please get me out of this conversation, smiles, on the people who they are trying to interact with.

Tugs at my heart a little.

Being homeless in Portland, you never go through one single day without being hassled for something. You sit on the wrong bench, go through the wrong garbage, walk into the wrong store to use the wrong bathroom. You pull a blanket over yourself in some park and they give you a ticket for camping.

One day I was collecting bottles at a big running event down on the water front; you can come away with twenty bucks worth in a relatively short  amount of time. Anyway I was going to use one of about 1000 port-a-potties they set up for the runners, when some guy tells me they are for runners only. I almost lost it on him, but walked away screaming, “I am a human too, God dammit.” I have matured since then, but I was hot that day I can tell you. Inspired me to write this song.

we don’t want no hobos in our neighborhood

we don’t want no hobos in our neighborhood

we don’t like them hobos, they just aren’t like us

we don’t like them hobos, they just aren’t like us
our garbage is our garbage, it ain’t your next meal

our garbage is our garbage, it ain’t your next meal

our bottles are our bottles, they ain’t your next five cents

our bottles are our bottles, they ain’t your next five cents

we don’t want no hobos in our neighborhood

we like trees, grass and flowers;not hobos and their blankets

we like trees, grass and flowers;not hobos and their blankets

we don’t want no hobos in our city parks

you call this a Christian nation, well I say not so much

the least of your brothers just make you feel as if your more

you call this a Christian nation, well I say not so much

the least of your brothers just make you feel as if your more

Hobos don’t really want your spare change,

they just want someone to be kind

hobos don’t really want your smokes,

they just want to be seen as human

hobos are a mirror to your own impoverished heart

hobos are a mirror to your own impoverished heart

be kind to a hobo, you just might heal your heart

be kind to a hobo, you just might find a friend

Jacob is one of those hobos who tries to interact with people who are not homeless just like he was their equal, how dare him. He has a kid in another part of Oregon who he recently visited. From his account things went very well.

He was kind of a loner when I first met him, but now he has a posse that panhandle daily in front of a liquor store. He flirts with me a lot, overly sexual hugs, and naughty talk about my long legs and the like, it hasn’t gotten him anywhere but that does not seem to detour him.

Anyway I ran into him yesterday, he was looking pretty good but I am greeted with the news: “I overdosed on heroin last night,” which got me laughing. Some of the drama I hear about, and there is a ton of it out here. makes me laugh. Or maybe it helps relieve the sadness of the situation.

The people telling the stories are always a little taken aback that I laugh at their near-death experiences, but it also seems to help them smile a little bit too. His buddy and a hobo girl gave him mouth to mouth until the ambulance got there and shot something in his ass that brought him around.

The hospital put him in a wheelchair in a hallway with a hydration bag in his arm and left him alone. He got a little offended at the poor treatment, walked out the door, hopped on the max and rode it back downtown. He was wearing one of those hospital gowns when I ran saw him. Despite the recent setback I have seen quite a bit of growth in Jacob but a prayer or two might help out.

One of the first Hobo Metaphysics I wrote was: give a homeless person ten bucks, but also give them ten minutes. Those ten minutes, if you use them to make a friend, not to preach or condemn, well, they will do more than 10,000 dollars. We know instinctually that we are all equal under the eyes of God, but we all need confirmation from time to time in this world we live in.

About Author

Hobo John

Hobo John here, I am a fifty year old man currently living in a small town in Idaho, this is also where I grew up. Like any Idaho boy I love the outdoors, and am a sports enthusiast. But I also love the arts and paint a little myself. In Proverbs it says, "A man's pursuit is his kindness, " and that is my only true mission in life. I like to write about just about anything; songs , children's stories, politics, short stories, however, I have not attempted a novel yet. I also consider myself a bit of a philosopher, after seven years of living the homeless life I actually started to enjoy it. I started writing little phrases that I hope contain some wisdom. I call them Hobo Metaphysics. "Gentle beats the shit out of aggressive," being one of my favorites. Peace to you folks, "I love you with everything that I have." That is my motto and the truth of things.

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