Archive for the ‘Poverty’ Category

Hard Candy

In Abuse, Dark, Drug Addiction, Fear, Indifference, Life, Loss, Madness, People, Poetry, Poverty, Sex, Ugh, Very Bad Poetry, Violence, Weird on October 9, 2012 at 8:52 pm

Camilla d’Errico, Cotton Candy Curly Cue

Candy gave sold the Man-child what no girl ever really had

Sold it

Took it

Is what she did


She took her requital

Again and again

Then she took some more

More and more

Days become years

Candy took and took

She took what he had

She took what she took

She put it in her arm

When that wasn’t enough

She started doing him harm

Grave harm

Failed to make her

Go away

Just leave

Him alone



She came

It wasn’t her problem

But, hey, all the same

It had to be someone’s

Should have been



The kitchen

Candy’s throat

A blade

A glint

A sharper look stabs her eyes

Take a hint

“You’ve got one last chance, bitch

Grab what you can

Run for your life

You come back again

I’m not thinking twice

Gladly do Time

To see you go ‘bye.”

Right on the edge

Girl made the dive

Scored a 10 and 4 nines

Her very first try

Candy booked it

Right outta sight


Until now it would seem

Candy’s sweet meet

She dictates the plays

Basks in her fame

To beat


At her own game

Save him

Someone had to

Had to



to that

Black pool

I fear

For Girl

Cannot swim


Girl is my friend. Candy is Girl’s ancient history ex’s ex. Man-child is his brother.

The Cancer Patient

In Homelessness, Life, People, Poverty on June 26, 2012 at 11:37 pm

Had to run errands in a satellite of the nearest metropolis. Outside one of my stops was a big brick flower planter. You know. The kind with a ledge. There was this gaunt, filthy, threadbare old man sleeping on it in the full afternoon sun… His joints swollen out of all proportion.

I hovered…

Homeless people really DON’T sleep. It’s one reason they seem so out of it and get wasted all the time. I think we’d all have to be pretty wasted to sleep in dark alleys and out in public on a regular basis, hey? They just rest, really. So, didn’t want to disturb him if he was getting rest. But I was not at all sure he was okay.

Went into the establishment. Told my girl. She said to check on him. But why hadn’t she already? She could clearly see him. It’s her establishment. She should have taken care before I got there because the scene rather upset me. All the while, people are just walking by!!! WTF?!?!?!?

WHAT! THE! F**K! PEOPLE!!!!! Wake up!

The satellite is full of the rich and upper middle class. They don’t have homeless people there and if they do I’m sure the Mounties just take ’em to downtown metropolis and drop them off with my friend, Goodie, at the homeless shelter, hey?

So… I went back out. I didn’t want to startle him. Once I showed interest then people began stopping? Like, f**k you! Now? Bystander effect? Ya think?

“Sir… Sir… Sir…”

All the while wanting to call the upper crust man now standing at my side a**hole.

The gaunt man finally stirred.

“Sir… are you alright, Sir?”

He was WAY groggy. Assured me he was okay. But, then just flaked out again.

He was NOT okay. Not at all. Not at all.

Went back in to see my girl. I thought we should call an ambulance. But a scene, an ambulance ride and most likely a five hour wait in ER? Nah. Decided I’d best go to the walk-in clinic next door and see if I could get him some discrete, immediate assistance without making a big scene.

So… Told the receptionist what was goin’ on. She told me he wasn’t homeless. He’s was a cancer patient. His joints were swollen from meds. WTF?

I was afraid to touch him for fear I would hurt him he looked that bad — I am NOT remotely afraid of touching anyone, I especially touch ‘lepers’. And no one would help him? Why? Because he was filthy and threadbare? They were too busy? It’s not their problem? They think it’s okay for gaunt old men to sleep in the street all prone and vulnerable like that?

He obviously can no longer care for himself… But who does? Who will? This is f**king Canada, man. We’re supposed to take care of each other here.

The receptionist came out and took care of him. Told me to carry on. Promised me she’d take care of him. I believed her. She was nice. (I WAS in town for errands and was burning daylight.)


I am SO unfathomably angry and ashamed of EVERYONE right now. And how! Yeah. Boy, oh, boy!

I really didn’t feel like going to town. At first, I wished I hadn’t gone at all. But, I guess, I should go more often because people just aren’t pulling their weight. Judging from the pool of drool under his head he had been there quite some time. Quite!

The cancer patient REALLY threw me for a loop. Was DEAD certain he was homeless. And, as bad as that was, it was okay. I could deal with that. Was COMPLETELY unprepared for the truth. TOTALLY. UTTERLY…