The Drug Storm Rolls On Around Us All - A poem of the streets, even yours perhaps.

I've heard a lot lately.
Rumbles from Hell's Block,
Whispers from City Creek
and warbling cries on streets.
But this morning's eavesdrop
gave me a clue it is indeed
as bad as those trapped
down on Rio Grande say.

Went in to the Sev,
noted freshly broken tank lid
on the throne I borrowed
to avoid a Public U violation.
Commenting to the clerks
they told me the story
of the guy who danced in
and back out too often.

But the real horror here,
is what else he did
leaving his junkie needles,
called points by many street-folk,
on the phone booth outside,
in the trashcan inside
and guess why the porcelain broke?
Yep, even in there, I guess.

Some folks in Outreach admit
it will only get worse now
as funding is up in air
and volunteers leave them
short-handed during the busy season
as the druggies and drunks
turn to rehab to stay warm
until their next big relapse.

Seen evidence all around,
like yesterday morning at CandC
where two camped on the sidewalk
at the corner of State and 4th south
waking up to panhandle
their fellow homeless,
as no one else was about
or yell at passing cars.

Ether and dog crap smells
rule the Library restrooms
and there is no safe place
to escape things I want to avoid
due to my allergic reactions
to the recreational chems of others.
The guards here try their best
but are totally outnumbered.

Skunky odors warn me off
from the smoker's corner
far too often here of late,
as the dopers return in droves
from the camps and hideaways
to hold hands out during give-aways.
Mouth wash smell spells dangers
as some drunks sink that low.

Seen soap dispenser spigots
broken off and used for rocks
last winter and early spring,
so I wonder what destruction
this coming cold season carries
as it wraps around the mountains
in clouds as bleak and ominous
as the mood I now am in.

Tweakers jitter about nervously,
who knows which cocktail
sets off their rapid pacings
and mutters of obscenities.
Some sit slumped over,
victims of the near seizure
the hand sanitizer drinkers
call their precious highs.

Every where I look these days
I see the signs of abuse
and the toll on those using
as well as the society around.
Not to mention the devastation
I'm sure their families suffer
worried about their lost sheep
but not enough to really act.

Over the last two years
I've seen it getting worse.
When I first went homeless
the hills held only the drunks
and occasional stoner camps
they always had in past,
but now, more dangerous breeds
are moving around the streets.

They prey upon society
hunt out those who won't share
the highs, lows and money
they seem to always need.
They trash the caches used
by those not among their ilk
and ruin it for those of us
who have not managed escape.

Welcome to your dark underbelly,
oh you of Society's prudes.
The very ones preaching like you
are the ones using narcotics,
abusing booze and prescriptions,
and experimenting dangerously
with household cleaning products
to find the face of God.

25September2013 - Dyfedd Rex

Seven-Poppa Situation in Humor - A poem of streets and poor planning by others.

It was a seven-poppa situation.
Those who know that military phrase
can chuckle over that, ducking heads,
while everyone else looks around confused.

The race put up no signns
for directions around the closed areas
where the festiveal blocked the way
and construction prevented a safe passage.

With just a little more forethought,
They could have avoided the chaos
or having the homeless give directions
on finding their Start-Finish line!

So, this guy flew a kite
telling them the signed for 10K!
Three just finding the Registration Booth,
five ran, two back to cars!

Got some smiles, a few dirty looks
and even a bunch of laughs
on telling them you knocked off
half K cutting past the C&C.

Still thinking I oughta bill 'em
for providing entertainment and good directions
over not staging their own voluteers
strategically along the proper route there.

So next time you see me,
the guy in that battered hat,
Remember, I tried to help out,
and toss me a friendly wave!

22June2013 - Dyfedd Rex

Days of Penance for Venial Sins - A Poem

The walk is one I make
twice a week if not more
to do a few good deeds
in atonement for my many sins.

But each trip I make there
to the food bank to volunteer,
my eyes get me into trouble
as I pass through Liberty Park

For as I walk that sidewalk
joggers and skaters pass me by
drawing my gaze not from caution
but the beauty they let show.

Yes, I know its a sin
but only my eyes are involved
until I fail to step carefully
and find where dogs left landmines.

Then my mouth barks out curses
that mark my soul with sin
making it so I must serve
more days of penance for redemption.

Now with head hanging in shame
I move along in the grass
wiping my feet and counting out
the fullness of my foolish ways...
...and how much more to volunteer.

(29Mar2012 - Dyfedd Rex)

Karma is a stone cold killer lady, and always takes her dues.... yes, I have stepped in the poo many a time due to looking at "the scenery", but not always... sometimes I find the doggydoo while watching the clouds and sky, the trees, or looking over into the Aviary to see which birds are out in their pens....