Earlier this year, I went to San Francisco, and before hopping on a trolley at one point, I gave a bean to a dude for a copy of the Street Sheet, the self-described "publication of the Coalition on Homeless San Francisco since 1989." I came across this copy recently and think I'll occasionally share a poem from it from time to time, as the mood strikes me.
Think about it.
In Here, Out There (by Leroy F. Moore, Jr.)
"In here, slouched in my oversized wheelchair
Locked down in this urine infested black cell
God! I'm not doing so well
Bleeding from my POW, POW daily beating
Out there, living on the hard, cold streets
No cot, no heat and nothing to eat
Living on the dirty, trashy streets or
In this tiny, smelly cell damn both is hell
In here inmates are family
Out there there's no community
Understand my reality
No rehabilitation in here
Force medication out there
No wonder I live in fear
Community leaders marching out there
My family walking on death row in here
Our savior is waiting for all of us up there
Out of my wheelchair,
Zzzzzz frying in the electric chair
Out on the mean streets, bang, bang shot by police
In here, out there, tell me what's the difference"
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