Tuesday, May 09, 2006

Helping Hand

Such a typical Parisian scene... nothing unnormal going on... and yet...

Check out the guy with the cup, hand up, while the nonchalant non-see-ers skip...

Horny, buy bye,

My Lady of the Stairs
(10.47 p.m.)So what did you think of the film then~I thought it was a bag of shite~I could've had two pints~For 52 francs~And caught the end of the fight~Well I've gotta rush mate~We're getting a few beers~In~And watching the gameAll right, cheers mateSee you next SundayTake careAnd I turnAnd I makeFor the top of the stairs.(10.48 p.m.)I know that she's there, I can feel herA presence so strong and so frailFor she's always thereBy the cold hand railCompletely failed, without fail,She must be 70, if she's a dayAnd resides, or so it would seemOn the second step up from the bottomOf shitty 'Escalier B'Metro line 7, Gabriel-PériTo Châtillon-Montrouge, ParisSuch an imposing, impressive addressFor one so lost such as sheBut still beautiful.(10.49 p.m.)I can't hear her voiceAnymore nowFaded to a whispering sighBut I know what she's sayingMouthing the wordsFor those who can feel with their eyes"Un franc, par pitié, M'sieur, DameUn franc, par pitié"Thus runs her miserable dumb little verseHer broken two-line repriseAnd those watery eyes weeping pitySeem to see through me there where I standAs she holds out her discolouredVein-ridden, time-wizenedBony and tremulous handHave those same hands kept children from violenceThat now clutch a dirty old cupAnd fended off blows from who nobody knowsLying scared on a bed looking upOr while murmuring Arabic blessingsWith tenderness dark heads caressedAnd with warm arms she’ll never herself feel againDrawn small Moslem mouths to her breastSo I place my small coin gently into her handScared her arm will snap with the weightBut I can't bear to see her reactionTo my gesture so weak and so lateStill our eyes meet for less than an instantA wing-flick, a breath-beat, no moreAnd I run from the thanksOf those thin steepled handsOf that bundled half-lifeHalf dead on the floor(10.53 p.m.)Dear woman, dear childWhat sad train dropped you hereWhere the scum of the earthThrow their fag ends and beerAnd piss in the cornersAnd gob on the stairsWhere you sit with your cupIn your hands and your tearsForgotten scrap of humanitySwaddled and smothered in ragsFloating on frothAnd drowning in filthFrom the throwaway thugsAnd your carrier bagsHave I salved my sickAiling conscienceFor seven more days of debauchOf fatness and fêtingAnd stuffing and sweatingAnd making sure nobodyShits on my porch(11.07 p.m.)And now the train whisks meAway from her worldFar away from the spitAnd the dirtTo my hot-running waterAnd e-mail on-tapAnd a bedAnd another clean shirtBut 62 francs doesn't seem bad to meAlthough prices do keep going upWhen it buys you two hoursOf good solid funAnd a clink in an old plastic cup

All this movement is about Paris helping others, so we have to be aware so we can help our selves.

Thorny bye bye, hand on hip...

As we're promoting causes for the moment, we'll do the same for ours, Plan France, which helps people to sponsor children around the world, to give them a better education, create schools, and dig wells, while being in touch with the families concerned...

What you do is very simple - you just decide to sponsor a child, and a family, and a town, and you send off €25 a month, which is nothing when you think about it, and then Plan puts you in touch with the child, and the family, and the town and there you are..! You're a sponsor, and it feels very good!

It's really a two-way commitment...

You can write and be in touch with the person or family you are sponsoring, but the money doesn't go directly to the family - it goes to the village...

Give what you can...

and see how Paris responds !




© 2006 Sab Will / Paris Set Me Free
http://www.parissetmefree.com
http://www.mysticrhythms.com

2 comments:

Elisabetta said...

Wonderful pictures! I think they reflect the typical Paris streets..
Compliments!

Paris Set Me Free said...

Thanks for the comment, makes it all worth while!

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