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The Flophouse Code



The drunken bum lives in a slum,
and he is numb from gulping rum.

The flophouse code became the mode
of his abode: a welfare load.

He doesn't care or ever dare,
will never swear, a truth to bear.

A cleanly trace considered base:
washing his face is a disgrace.

His body smell, like garbage-fill,
others will tell is straight from hell.

So it's okay for him to stay
distance away all night and day.
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Submitted on February 05, 2010

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    "The Flophouse Code" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 5 Dec. 2021. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/86720/the-flophouse-code>.

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