The lawn is mowed,
the yard sort of cleared,
but the apples fall out fast
making this job a bear,
as I work along.

Day heats up fast
rising back above ninety again
but slight bit cooler forecast tomorrow,
just a smidge less humidity
so no rain threat.

Spent the weekend camping
up between distant mountain ranges,
along the shores of a lake
that dazzled eyes with blues
so rich and deep.

Back in town again,
it's the old grind still.
Clicking out story parts with hopes
that they sell for cash
or a job arrives.

I have hopes, still.
Dreams abound all around me,
as my tales and poems speak
from this lonesome, lost soul
to any reading this.

Words are my life-jacket,
here in Life's rough seas.
Holding my head above the waves
of bad feelings swirling around,
a maelstrom consuming me.

I share the words
not to ask for pity,
but to offer hope to others
also down on their luck,
that sometimes patience rewards.

Take heart, fellow travelers,
there is a port ahead,
where we can take short leaves
to refresh our weary souls,
it's called a book.

I actually in one,
in case you missed it.
Over there on the sidebar panel
there lies a new link
of to Amazon land.

Do me a solid.
Buy a copy sometime soon.
Not just for me, you see,
but the other writers contributing
with tales of fantasies.

And when it arrives,
dive between real paper pages,
into realms diverse, to escape burdens
that wear you down slowly,
and emerge with hope
that if others
can weave
tales,
perhaps
so can you.

2September2014

Keep That Pack On, Son. - A poem of the Streets.

Part of being on the streets,
is accepting the darkness of souls.
Not just of others, but yourself too.
Such is not easy, nor truly safe.
A person who gazes upon darkness
without the safety of distance
too oft finds themselves embracing such.

This is true of all, even me.
Here on the streets, my prejudices rise.
Allergies explain just a bit of it,
leading to my disdain for drug addicts,
even as I feed my own dependence
on coffee, colas, and nicotine.
Things I view as far safer.

That gloom that lies on the Homeless,
much of it is fed from without,
but nearly as much rises inside you
as you begin to doubt yourself,
your skills, your beliefs, and lose the way
that you have walked for so long.
The demons of the street are many.

Have I been tempted to crime?
Yes.
But I steer clear of most of it,
save the occasional early morning jaywalk,
to reach a restroom before suffering
the indignity of a public relief.
And other things call too.

Here is a thought, though, for fools
who mock those who walk the streets.
You are but one mistake from joining us.
And we, each of us, but one right decision
from being heroes to someone.
Like that kid this morning I passed,
under my full load of packs.

He took back his own from his dad,
and said rather proudly and loudly...
"he's got more, and still goes on, Dad.
So I should carry mine too."
Left a smile on my face.
Put a pep in my stride, beyond pride.
I had to hold up my end.

Which is what Life is really about.
9 June 2014 - A humbled Dyfedd Rex.

My personal politics prove problematic.

Too many feel I must toe

the lines of the Two Parties

or be just another apathetic voter.

This leaves me convinced others are

but fools who dance to drums

beat by demonic beasts who control

the world through their strange rhythms.

I rarely speak of them, lately.

Tired of ridicule over walking paths

others cannot see as valid beliefs.

But, they are my firm convictions,

not those of shadowy kettle masters,

who seek unison of oar strokes

to drive forward their own agendas,

making others feel they are theirs.

I hold that we have failed

the promise of the American Dream.

We lack the spine to choose

true servants to the Civil Order,

setting over ourselves a foul over-class,

Masters who speak with forked tongues. 

Mine is the way of Conservation,

of faith, not just petty wealth.

I am a social libertarian, and yet

I feel the need for accountability.

Mine is the view of few,

none out there hold many beliefs

that call me to a poll

to cast a vote for them.

Instead, being homeless, jobless, and surviving,

the path I walk is... detachment. 

Until one rises up as champion

for those things I have spoken,

none deserve my support, money, anything. 

I shall not defend this stance.

I see no need to, now.

Society kicked me one last time,

so I get the message carried

in that boot tip so wickedly.

You, America, are a failure, now.

And I should have stood up

long before now to say such. 

Now, I weigh my options, carefully.

Do I write off all people?

Walk off into the beckoning mountains,

never to walk amid such fools?

Or do I make a stand?

Pondering on this will take time. 

9June2014 - Dyfedd Rex, who is not dead, just been thinking. 

Dangers in Spring's Arrival - Poem of the Streets

The prowlers move around early,
looking for places to hide away
to sleep off the unavoidable crashes
their nights of being high evoke.

I see them, each morning
as I descend from my camp.
They make few efforts to hide
some even crashing on sidewalks.

With the beds cut back
at the shelter, as every summer,
the addicts seek other places now
to use and then recover.

Or perhaps, to fade away.

The streets are more dangerous,
campsites stolen or pushed each night
as their funds run out finally
from these long, foolish binges.

But, seeking that next high,
they now prey upon others slowly.
The rates will climb until turning
of the calendar's pages comes.

Leaving me at higher risk,
being allergic to things they smoke,
and very aware of who's moving
around places I frequent regularly.

I'd rather keep my possessions.

We all are getting edgy.
Tempers fray more easily these days,
tattered by this incursion of evil,
flowing more from Hell's Block.

Darkness carries voices more often
than the winter nights passing held.
Darkness gives their crimes some cover
from eyes of the Law.

The city changes from safe,
to just an annex of Hell,
demonic druggies dancing amid imaginary flames
their substance abuse conjures forth

which leaves them all insane.

Patterns must change each night,
you dare not fall into routines
that they can predict when moving
lest you become their prey.

Sober hands hold gear tight,
Clear minds make eyes dart about
not from paranoia, just some caution
for the shadows have occupants.

Not all movements there hold
danger to me or other travelers,
but, heed my advice, night's wanderers.
Never flash your cash openly

for the druggies are back
and they drive summer's crimes.

11April2014 - Dyfedd Rex

Silence of the Spring-time - A Poem of the Streets in Springtime.

Silence of the Spring-time

I fall silent often these days.
Not from depression, nor enough work
to lift my spirits above clouds,
but from contemplation and weather issues
that force me to spend time
drying gear out from April's Showers
to avoid dread May's Mildew doom.

Add in the few odd jobs
that leave me totally exhausted after
and the days when allergies call
with their nasty calling cards loudly,
and I ain't too damned social suddenly.
Nor does the good weather improve
my attitude at all as druggies
wander away from the shelter wildly.

This is the bad days now,
when the war so long confined
down around Hell's Block spreads out
as the worst now seek places
to do drugs, crimes, and such
amid the hiding holes of campers
who want nothing with their crap
but are forced to surrender now.

Worst, I did some eaves-dropping recently,
on a meeting about "Homeless Solutions",
and folks who bloody attended that
need to realize one important point.
Hiding things under some magic carpet
don't qualify in any damned way
as meeting the definition of "Solution".
I even checked dictionaries on that.

So, my travails and issues continue,
but at least I still write,
thought not things I will share
here for all to read often.
After all, I do plan to sell
some of these stories some day,
and you cannot say I don't
need the money that might bring.

Be well, walk safe, and enjoy.
Spring is here, and folks rejoice.
But not all find it good.
Some see it as the end
of quieter days and nights spent
without many of the dangers prowling
and now walk and act furtively
as we wander these lonely streets.

Walk softly, and be paranoid, folks.
7April2014 - Dyfedd Rex

Satire interview with Buck the Bum

The following is satire, unless you are homeless, in which case, you probably can relate to it. Buck is a figment of my imagination, as is this reporter.

Buck the Bum, met on the street by our intrepid reporter...

When appraised of the current move by the Utah Legislature on a bill banning "aggressive" panhandling.... boy, that made him unload both barrels.

IR: Excuse me, can I ask you some questions, I'm with the Town Jester, a news outlet that seeks folks input on issues that just beg for lampooning.

Buck: Sure, just don't block the sign, will ya, and stay back by the tree, look like your passed out or something, otherwise folks think I'm dealing drugs, and I hate having folks get pissed for handing me money and not giving them their good time stuff in return. You have to duck flying lead and do paperwork with the cops when they leave you alive.

IR: So, this is a broad bill, HR101, kind of reads like another attempt at making any panhandling illegal again.

Buck: Yeah, biggest panhandlers on the planet, they're scared of the competition we are giving them.

IR: What?

Buck: Look, these bums looked at their campaign coffers, and realized donations was down. They see us out here making money, and viola, we are the real reason for their shortfall in earnings. Hell, folks is giving us more, as at least we bums is honest. (Taps his sign, which reads: "Yeah, I'm going to get high, but at least I ain't a politician.")

IR: Look, you know that some of you do get aggressive.. and act unsafe? Right?

Buck: Yeah, once they get hit enough, they can't do stupid things like that. Shame for the folks that hit 'em. But, you ain't gonna cure stupid with rules. Just makes them dumber, and wastes your time.

IR: So, you are for the law?

Buck: Hell, no. Look, Like I said, this bill is all about them being scared we're out here getting money that they used to get. And with all the scandals and disgust about political >bleep<, they are right to be scared. I mean, really, why give them taxes and money on the side? At least when you tip waitresses, you get better service. Tip politicians? They come back for more, and raise your taxes to boot.

IR: Like the homeless pay taxes. You have no report-able income.

Buck: Look, still spend some of this in stores, that gets taxed, same as everyone else. And, I smoke. I ain't really trying to get high, it's my gimmick. But tobacco is taxed at, what, about one-hundred forty percent. About a third of my money goes there. I bet I pay more in tax than most folks do, as a percentage.

IR: Right. So, still not reported on the income?

Buck: Not all of us make a fortune out here. Most days, you get a few coins, not much, less than a fiver, others you strike it rich, and more days than you admit, you leave the corner empty handed, or with supplies only. Drinks, food, maybe some gloves or other stuff. I don't fly that often. Figure, at best, even the most die-hard only make about sixty-five hundred a year, and that is under the deductible. I know, looked it up out of curiosity. Me, I'm lucky to get fifty, maybe sixty a month. I only fly for a limited time, and walk away early if I exceed a certain amount. Pass that mark by big, and I won't fly for a week or more, sometimes three. Out of  respect for the gifts and the givers. Unless I have to.

IR: Back to the bill, how would it impact you?

Buck: Make it tougher, reduce the number of corners we can use, which means the druggies and boozers will be more belligerent at trying to rule corners. Fights will go up, as will crimes against the homeless. You jam us in tight into a few spots, and it attracts the problems of drugs and stupidity like flies to >bleep<. Might reduce the posers, those fakes who come out here, pretending to be one of us. But, it won't stop the fools from doing this in dumb places, so the cops will be tied up enforcing this stuff, and not able to work on the bigger issues of real crimes, like the drug dealings and robberies that are spiking up a bit, with the down economy. Not saying it ain't a good idea, just not a wise one at this time. Fix the economy, fix the system, and this will taper off. Just remember it, and fix the laws then, or better, redesign the unsafe spots so they can't be used.

IR: You think that will end homelessness? Fixing the economy.

Buck (after long fit of laughter): Dude, there been homeless folks since we came down from the trees, or Adam and Eve got evicted from Eden, depending upon your point of view. This country was built from homeless folks. >bleep<, even the Native Americans ancestors were homeless, before shifting to grounds here to hunt. Everyone in America has at least a few homeless bums in their woodpile.
End it? Forget that. You can reduce it, make it less of a crime magnet, but you will never lick it. Besides, we homeless walk in good company. Look at the who's who of the homeless. Ghandi was homeless, Andy Jackson, a president, was one for a while after the Revolution, Davy Crockett, Wild Bill Hickock, most of those that came west? Homeless. Then, for the religious who mock us, well...Moses, Lot, Abraham, Jesus of Nazreth, John the Baptist, Mohammed, Buddha? All homeless at some time. Best we can do, try to keep the numbers down, and give hope it will end. Real hope, not those rollercoaster rides most suffer trying to get out.
Buck:(looks around, still smiling) Yeah, kind of funny, I think. You look at who is really aggressive about getting money. At least we don't use phones to disturb your meals at home with calls for money to "beat" our opponents. Anything that much fun, we do personally, not with ads or posters. And we got 'em scared of losing money to us. The dregs of society. (laughs) Yep. And if they keep having all these problems in their own ranks, folks actually might uptick the money to us over giving to them. Or, maybe, one of us should run for their offices. They can't complain if we are better than them, and honest about we plan to pocket most of it. After all, we're just bums.

Buck shooed me off, after that last bit. Said he looked too happy, and folks were afraid he was planning something criminal as he looked at them.

An Update I Never Thought I'd Post

So, this is just an update on life for this guy, and the strange ways and twists Life likes laying out for me. Nothing earth-shaking, no real changes to my status as an "unproductive" member of your foolish Society out there, just a step taken that gives me hope to end this Homeless crap on my terms, not the terms of those fools who think they know the ways to do everything.

What step was it? A strange one to have taken, quite honestly. I collected on a bet. A bet made with myself and society about my writings and job search. One I am not really happy to have lost, but that makes me proud. You see, it proved that I knew what I was saying last year in interviews. I kept telling folks, over and over in them that "Personally, as my writing is at last taking off, I'm betting I see money from it before I get a paycheck from any jobs I'm interviewing for. Don't get me wrong, I'd love it if you prove me wrong."

And, in the end, I was right.

Saturday, I collected the bet from myself, in the form of a milk shake, as where I was at did not offer root beer floats.

Yes, something sold. Nice, cashy money is headed my way.  I will make a formal announcement later this month, directing folks where to look for it. Once all the details are locked in.

But, I won. I was right, everyone else once more was wrong. Not taking pride in that. Just saying that you all might want to listen more to me, hear me out. I am not insane, folks. I just have a brain that runs about twice as fast as most folks, and can see things many ignore. I see the obstacles, prejudices, and red-tape issues that hold down the homeless and unemployed far better than you can, in your cars and job sites. My eyes note things you overlook, or dismiss as trivial, until they break your nose slamming into your own faces.

I'm finding it sad, really, winning this bet. It means you out there actually don't give the south end of a north-bound rat about actually ending these issues. So, I'll keep writing, and still toss out job apps. My voice will be raised even more over the next few weeks and months about the ways you use to keep those on the bottom of your Society held down. Words will be written now more carefully, not from fear of reprisals, as before, but to maximize their impact on your over-inflated egos as you sneer at me, eyes firing dirty looks along the slopes of your noses. And I will keep trying to get more stories out there for cash, assemble that collection of poetry and try selling it as an e-book, and carry my packs with pride, not shame. For that load I bear, much like those metal links born by the dwarves in mys stories, are my Chain of Sorrows. Ones I will lift to back knowing this. They mark the price YOU make others pay in part.

Yes, YOU make me, and the other homeless, bear this kind of burden. Too stuck up to hire a homeless person? Then accept the fact that to survive, we will be there, on those corners holding cardboard signs, rummaging through ash trays and gutters for "snipes", as we call those cigarette butts you toss aside with only  a puff or two left, and lingering about waiting for that opportunity to rise up once more.

Sure, not all of us want out. But why hold down those who do? Scared that one with hunger and cold nights so close to their present moment will make you look bad? Fear that we will do as some who you lift up act, and rob and assault those holding out the hand? Yeah, there are bad apples. Even in the barrel you live in now. Folks who preach the "Rule of Law" but fight at following it with lead feet when behind a steering wheel, lazy buttocks that refuse to leave their couches to shovel the snow off their sidewalks as required by those Laws, and those who walk the blurry regions between Legal and Criminal in their business practices and personal ethics. I think you have more to fear from the person in the next cubicle than the homeless person that might need a job mopping your floors.

 And the next bet I'm making is forming even now. I dare you to make me forfeit on it. Double-dog-dare-ya even.

This fellow is now wondering and considering laying a steak dinner on whether writing is his way out, as he has mentioned in the past, over seeking normal employment. A fancy one, say at a real steak house, not some Village Inn or Denny's. The kind that comes with a cocktail to enhance the pleasure, not a milk shake.

So, Society, you willing to take me up on this one? Or, are you all still freaking out that I was right, and you were wrong before?

Be nicer if the bet was not with myself, but some one else.

New Year on Hell's Block - A poem of the streets, maybe a declaration of war.

Yesterday, I gambled,
today I pay for it,
but hold forth news many should heed.
For before noon yesterday morn
I walked there....
Hell's Block.

It lacks boundaries,
ebbing and flowing with seasons,
and the counter currents forced on it
by the locals and cops
as they fight...
Hell's Block.

A war lost
each day though few see
how the battle raged before their eyes
and which were victims or
the perps on...
Hell's Block.

My definition lays it out
as a broader zone than most
for I now say it takes in
every lot under that narcotic fog
I've come to call "Drog".

Watched twenty minutes
maybe a tad bit more
how dealers operated brazenly along Rio Grande
Cash flashing, calls to passer-by's
of drugs on...
Hell's Block

Watched the denizens
who get the free pass
lie against the walls stoned beyond action
or do the various dances
oft performed on...
Hell's Block.

Antics that revolt
not just the one observing
but the ones impacted more personally there
along that lane between services
for saving in...
Hell's Block.

You cannot decry losing parks
when you never made serious efforts
at the root causes of the troubles
in your war on narcotic substances
that this place proves lost.

Worst thing seen
during both passes through there
was not the derelicts laying amid filth,
the "new hooker" doing her strut
seeking clients amid...
Hell's Block

No, brace yourself.
For the only innocents there
are the children forced into these dangers
cause none want homeless families
anywhere but on...
Hell's Block.

And of those,
some are already lost forever.ta
Scarred by what goes on around them
that even kids are champions
at cussing on...
Hell's Block.

And I hold some blame
for not standing up before now
about the things seen before I left
angered at the failures of Justice
when it came to me.

Ask yourselves, honestly.
Should those kids be there?
Amid the drunks, drug dealers and users
who you all shoved there
seeking to contain...
Hell's Block.

Why hold out
so many helping hands now
during the season of holidays running together
and yet disappear from sight
when violence rocks...
Hell's Block.

And why force
those who probably were not
part of those making that filthy mess observed
yesterday along South Rio Grande
clean up on...
Hell's Block

Yes, the drunks were forced
to sweep up the stoners messes
and women and men handed shovels, brooms
to clear off that disaster left
from the revelries of others.

And already rumbles
reach my ears beyond bounds
of the place most mark as problematic
as the angers boil over
reaching out beyond...
Hell's Block

Congratulations to those
who thought of this idea,
you managed to fan the war's flames
amid the violence already there
along sidewalks of....
Hell's Block

I'm not saying
that the effort is wasted
but there you failed to see clearly
those dividing lines between camps
down there on....
Hell's Block.

But in the long run
will any actions taken be enough?
For there are still victims mentioned here
who ain't being lifted away safely
before their own corruption comes.

And none see the problems
as well as the homeless themselves
who never get a seat at discussions
of the problems they all face
save by proxy from providers...
with their own little agendas
for that place...
Hell's Block.
2January2014 - Dyfedd Rex, ashamed there is a kid knee-high to a grasshopper down there with a fouler mouth than his when irritated, wishing he had more than words to offer to get that young one out of it.

And yes, I am seriously thinking of going before the local councils and reading them this, and some other parts of the "Riot Act" type stuff.

The Druggies are spun. - a poem of the streets tonight

Everyone's all spun up
now that the holiday is passed
and they feel it's time to spend
the funds they accumulated flying signs
or through petty larceny.

Each of them convinced
we all want to get high
and treating we who stay clean
like pariahs until they need things,
like, say, our lighters.

The war on drugs,
well, folks, you lost it somehow
and along the way to defeat
everyone lost sight of the villains
who are dancing victory.

It leaves me worrying,
about where safety will be soon,
as once those funds finally disappear
these predators will spread out fast
seeking folks to roll.

Walking with care tonight,
hoping they keep down their way
as I get ready to head out
and tuck in for the night,
checking six every step.

They're all spun up,
and let me tell you what,
it ain't all giggles and guffaws.
Some are twisted up so tight
they'll walk against wind.

Been lectured on smoking
by a guy who kept asking
where he could score some weed,
and I almost sent him down
to the shelter area.

The fighters seek blood,
trying to get others to toss
that first, damning blow in it,
so they can walk away safe,
laughing at jailed fools.

Some are out "Shopping"
as we tend to call it,
that fast pass-by, looking over gear
for something worth pawning for fixes,
as they wander about.

There is no "safety"
out here on the winter streets,
until they either burn out hard
or wind down slow before dying,
but such it is.

Smell the skunk reek
off so many that bespeaks weed,
and the ether smell leaves me
seeking a scratching post when meth
gets smoked in bathrooms.

This is the winter
when the druggies dance with delight
at how they got funded well
towards binges that last nights, weeks
and some even months.

I'm ready to walk
back into the dark foothills now,
seeking a quiet place to hide
until this frenzy at last dies
back down to normal.

But it won't soon.
New Year's Eve will be bad,
and the days leading to it.
Then the predations will truly begin
in the name of...
just staying high.
26December2013 - Dyfedd Rex, walking carefully tonight.

Know the Good from Bad - poem of the street

You know the good guys
and even some gals, truthfully,
by who watches out carefully
for those teetering on edge
not of addictions or rage
but health and physical needs.
We give spare socks away
to those who have none,
share our food when have,
and keep an eye out
for the dreaded gumbo bouts
when your guts rebel nastily
and you need some tissues
in case the restroom's out.
The good help out those
as need help, and try.
The bad come about then
to strip the fallen ones
of what they can sell.
This is the difference, folks,
between the hobo and bum.
The hobo has some nobility,
charity and most important cares.
The bums, they just ravage
the land, the offerings, and
worst of all, each other.

18October2013 - Dyfedd Rex