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

Rampant Rumors, Unconfirmable. - A warning

Once more, rumors at the library speak of another stabbing by the Road Home. This makes over a dozen reaching my ears since Turkey day, and I know many more go unheard until bodies get found the next few weeks, based on past years. Betting a few others happened, and the victims managed to crawl off, before any knew it happened, to some hole they either survived in, or passed away. 

News still lies silent, but often is on evening events until morning. 

Still, one more reason to stay well clear... of Hell's Block. No way I will return there, short of being armed to the teeth myself. Or suicidal. Not feeling the urge for either now, but steel rests on my belt, I step lighter than ever before, and sleep, when out, with one eye open. Not a good thing for my health and sanity. 

. 

The Troubles Spread Now - A Poem of Warning and the Streets.

Spring's first thunder
rumbles out from Hell's Block
as the fools boil out like roaches
bringing their crimes, drugs, violence
back to streets.

With warmer weather
the troubles spread from there.
The druggies get kicked out more
from the Road Home Shelter
after Winter's tolerance.

Already the campers
speak of camps being "pushed",
thin-packed shadows every entering sites nightly,
and fights and issues arising
well before dawn.

Know it's true.
My site is borderline now,
as I had to rise from bedroll
when the predators came calling
more than once.

Each warm day,
evil tendrils slither further afield
yet the echoes from those still in
speak of continued drug use
openly inside shelters.

Brazen thieves roam
those areas again by night
and even during times once deemed safer,
heard of one guy stealing
coffee from packs.

Bold and fearless,
thinking we live in fear,
not seeing the growing amount of "steel"
on belts of we elders
as we walk.

Count those knives,
count cell phones in hand
as we move about even by day,
and you know the tensions
are boiling over.

No safe place,
save the libraries by day.
And that only as cops patrol hard
and security finally clamps down
on worst offenders.

The staff's attitudes
now sour the good ones
as things approach the annual "turn-out",
coming near April's Fools Day,
When beds reduce.

Hear the complaints
as the older guys talk,
about the nightly fights, open drug use,
and constant wandering of thieves
seeking weak moments.

Glad I'm out,
not stuck in that mess,
but worry the troubles will come haunting
the places I hide in
stealing my peace.

Watching the signs,
I fear needing to head
into the hills again these spring nights
taking the most determined predators
on long walks.
behind me,
nightly.

Hell's Block expands
And I know
it's gonna get much worse
before things improve.

24February2014 - Dyfedd Rex, growing eyes painfully in the back of his head.

Hints of Summer's Plague - A Poem of the Streets

The storm is coming.
That annual boiling out
of the most troubled hard-cases
away from Hell's Block.

Warm weather calls them,
luring them further out by day
tricking them with tolerable
nights to wander now.

Each spring it happens,
and we campers fear the dark plague
marked by crimes the addicts oft do
and we get blamed for.

Winter's deep cold helped
keep the disaster contained tight
around the shelter area
for most that season.

Already the worst
walk the streets by night, hunting prey.
Seeking careless to rob or mooch,
sidling up slyly.

My spot gets visits
each night now, from those shadowy
figures marked by empty backpacks
that speak their hunger.

They steal to get high,
addictions driving reason off
and no one is safe from fingers
that even dip friends.

Some head for high ground,
others disappear from the town
as those questors radiate out from
the place called Hell's Block.

We hear the rumors,
tales of the fools setting up sites
around the shelter to hide in
as they do their drugs.

Warnings from the guys
speak of worse things brewing inside
ready to squirt across the vale
as the low temps rise.

Beware, ye brave souls
who feel the town is your kingdom
for the den of theives sends them out
shutting half their beds.

Each spring, this happens,
each summer indignantly folks
cry their city is invaded
by the homeless bums.

But, they never left.
Only hid out the worst few weeks
that winter tossed at this city
then slither back out.

Seven hundred souls,
that is the count inside most nights
of men alone as I can recall,
in Winter's hard moons.

Now, they roll away
from the hole they have near destroyed
to seek new game to take toll on
and you might be next.

Walk with extra care,
you citizens of good standing
for the criminals slowly creep
out by night to hunt.

No care of target
they seek their next high or low fix,
or profit off unsuspecting
who don't see them there.

The campers take care
moving more furitively now,
knowing the first wolves wander nights,
and the pack follows.

You don't sleep that well
when the predators roam the nights,
knowing you could be the next one
whose hole they sneak in.

Already, we see
the 'tracks' of this pestilence
by torn open packs scattered round
and injured campers.

I walk soft these days,
and 'steel' once more lies on my belt.
I gaze at the forbidden hills
gauging the moment.

Soon, I will head up.
No question this year about that.
Not willing to be exposed now
to their drugs and crimes.

19February2014 - Dyfedd Rex

update from the cold streets

I hear the complaints, not just about the weather, but conditions down on Hell's Block, as I call the area, just north of the old Rio Grande Station, and south of the Gateway Shopping Mall.
Sandwiched in there, lies the Road Home Shelter, St. Vincent dePaul's and the Weigan Center. Where all the homeless get herded, by cops so burnt out from dealing with the druggies they don't care that concentrating the population that way worsens the situation.

Today, many told me to stay the hell out, find some hole up in the foothills or somewhere else, to hide from it all. They talked about the roaming of the 'shoppers', those tweaked out on drugs so tightly, they cannot sleep at night, just roam about the insides of those places, seeking something to steal to fund that next high. Or of the ones that still kept seeking that high, smoking away inside the building, even in the dorms, not just the halls and bathrooms.

This is why I hide away. With my allergies, I'd be committing suicide going in that place. Even the worst of the regular crowd walk in fear of which of these drug-addicts will snap first, or next as some say some have, and which innocent by-stander or guy in the next bunk will be the victim of their violence.

Hell's Block, made with good intentions, the same as pave the road to the Infernal Gates, is not a good place, so stop trying to force me there, folks. I'd rather not be forced into filing charges of attempted murder against those agitating for such a move. Given the massive number of nights I had to walk out of there last winter, covered in hives, itching with troubles breathing, I'd say one night would send me to hell this time around.

If only those trying to do good with that place would look at the effect it has on the victims it racks up each year, day by day, and seek another way, maybe it might work. The ones I feel the worst for are the kids forced in there the first few nights their families are homeless, until they get a place in the family shelter or emergency housing. Why expose children to that? What the dickens were you all thinking about, given the number of pedophiles, rapists, criminals, mentally disturbed, and addicts circling like vultures, seeking new prey. Let alone the dealers, street fences and thieves.

The words of the victims down there, those seeking to get out, but held up by some portion of the Rule of Law so many here tout, tell a grim story. Open your  ears, folks. It ain't all roses and teddybears down there.

Winter ain't here yet... - Poem of the streets

You hear the complaints:
"Overflow ain't open yet,
the families ain't left
for the Midvale shelter
for the winter months."
Amid the other talk.
The cops seem nervous,
haunting the better places
where we can crash
waiting for the pot
to boil over soon.
I hope it don't,
but it will eventually,
a day or so
when the moon's full.
Cloudy skies bode ill,
weather still damned chilly,
even opening Drunk Tank
won't cut the numbers
of those on streets
enough to really matter.
Winter ain't here yet,
but that old man
is probing the valley
with chill rains, winds
and snow last week.
Will the weather hold?
Better hope so, folks
awful lot of bodies
not geared for cold
still not safe yet.

16October2013 - Dyfedd Rex

Better Vibes from Hell's Block - A poem of the streets.

A different rumble echoes now,
up from what I call
Hell's Block on this blog.
Word that a crackdown's begun,
way overdue by most accounts
on the thieves who prey
upon their fellow homeless travelers.

Heard of it just today,
some guys headed down there
to grab dinner at Vinnie's
(Saint Vincent de Paul Center,
for those not knowing slang)
where they saw something rare
volunteers watching who grabs bags.

You see, the spice monkeys,
users of that synthetic dope,
tend to walk off regularly
with bags not theirs rightly
to fund their smoking binges.
So this is an improvement
compared to past open seasons.

Yeah, open season I said.
A happy stealing ground thing,
where they walked off with
any bags not attached firmly
to your back, hand, leg
or other body part  available
to keep your gear safe.

There is still some doubt
if they will keep strong
in this new found resolve
to give us some security
as we take a repast
at their tables, when able,
and betting edges for short.

Still, glad to echo out
a positive vibe and words
from that ten acre land
I no longer even dare
to venture near from fear
of a severe allergic reaction
to the dreaded narcotic fogs.

Hope they keep it up.
14October2013 - Dyfedd Rex

Anger Has a Rumble - A poem of the streets, too late, sadly

Like thunder,
Anger hath a rumble
one heard
in quiet whispered conversations
around town,
on the prime corners,
the Library,
and elsewhere, that carry.

Linked above
is a sad story,
of dangers
that abound down there,
Hell's Block
as I've called it.
A man
stabbed in the head.

The media
say he is alive
but Rumor
says he wasn't then,
and speed
was not something used,
such calls
being often nothing ther.

Despite outcome,
there is that rumble,
Tempers flaring
about how it went.
It's Rumor,
but still, does not
every Rumor
build around some Truth?

Spice Monkey
or some mad tweaker,
betting goes,
on who it is.
Those working
alsoe move those hours
and that
stirs the Anger more.

Until Truth,
or passes as such
around there,
comes out, none know.
Save victim,
perp, and few others
too scared
to talk to Police.

We live
amid this mad violence
every day,
damned into such fate
by Society
that acts towards us
as if
we don't matter anymore.

I report
only what I hear,
and cannot
rely on the veracity
of whispers
but that Anger echoes
up streets
from Hell's Block now.

We'll survive,
at least some wil,
but now
you get an idea
why some
choose not to go
down there,
to avoid such things.

The campers
all speak of it.
The surfers
scramble for another couch
to avoid
what will surely come
and soon,
another crackdown, too late.

There's trouble
on the streets lately,
younger ones
who have nothing left
but Rage
that boils out suddenly,
without provocation
other than slights perceived.

And all
walk a bir uneasy
for now
we know for sure
that those
who rage about town
may really
be ready to fight...
... and kill.

3October2013 - Dyfedd Rex, who walks carefully tonight.
Due to this:
http://www.sltrib.com/sltrib/news/56949564-78/amp-police-lake-salt.html.csp

Echoes from Hell's Block - A Poem of the Streets and Homelessness.

The last few weeks
been hearin' horror stories
from those downtown bound
about the shelter here.

They say it's turned
into three ring circus
crossed with open zoo
as things go downhill.

It's a place left
out of most's minds
until the annual fundraisers
to warehouse us in.

I've been fairly lucky
Since being kicked out
into that last snowstorm
back in cold Febuary.

Not dealing with fights,
no worries about how
to navigate Hell's Block
owned by users, dealers.

Can't go around it
without seeing at least
six drug deals happening
and probably a fight.

And that was before
they cut the men
out of their equations
reducing beds a third.

You wanna know why
so many camp out
on the park strips
or in sidewalk doorways?

Look into a mirror.
Honestly, do it, folks.
Because half this equation
came from your votes.

Cutting mental hospitals budgets
or closing their doors.
Losing your stupid wars
on alcholism and drugs.

Fighting any half-way house
going near your neighborhood
forcing those fresh out
of jail into shelters.

You created this mess.
You press to keep
it going along daily
even as you complain.

Never hire a homeless?
You make it worse.
Taking away the offramp
some seek with fervor.

Ten in the morning
for an entry time
ain't no long-term answer,
unless you want more.

Look in the mirror,
meet those eyes there.
If actually stand it.
I know, I can't.
Not after living out here.

26August2013 - Dyfedd Rex