For almost two years, I volunteered as a Samaritan. The one thing I noticed was that most volunteers became two-faced after being exposed to the types of people who called to add a little excitement in their lives. The game was ‘bait the Samaritan’ and see if they’d bite.

I wrote this poem, splitting it into two parts: the Samaritan face; and the personal face.


The Samaritan Complex


No one to turn to? Nobody listens?

Either they hate you or don’t understand:

Even a criminal can take the stand;

Don’t they know that you’re like gold that glistens?

Tell me your troubles, lay them to one side:

Only a sensitive’s enough for you;

Because I can see from your point of view,

Each moment I help you increases my pride…

         Not him again! Why is he feeling sad?

         Even if he’s suicidal, no way!

         Ev’rytime he calls, I start my shaking.

         Doesn’t he know he’s despicably bad?

         Either he stops or I’m going to say,

         Don’t ring me again; I’ve stopped my faking…



About cdsmiller17

I am an Astrologer who also writes about world events. My first eBook "At This Point in Time" is available through most on-line book stores. I have now serialized my second book "The Star of Bethlehem" here. And to give my blog pages something lighter, I'm sharing some of my personal photographs, too.
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2 Responses to Samaritans

  1. cdsmiller17 says:

    Please don’t misunderstand my intent here: the Samaritans do a great deal of good in the UK; it just takes so much out of the volunteers, which is why very few last a long time.


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