Poetry from the Poverty Skolaz Theatre/Poetry Writing Workshop in Occupied Seminole Territory (St Petersburg, Florida) at the Misio Dei Church with unhoused parishioners of Misio Dei and members of the Refuge Ministry of Tampa Bay.
Incarceration is hard to keep at Bay
by Steve B
On a dreary dismal day, the anger of the moment took me away.
It only took seconds to throw it all away that day.
I still smell the powder & copper, for my life it was the stopper.
Regret I do not have, the rest of my life I have to save.
To live in the street to stay free, unfortunately that’s me.
One must stay awake, there’s too much at stake.
It’s me that I can’t forsake.
Even though no regrets, I don’t want to repeat that day.
Because incarceration is hard to keep at bay.
Now it’s my chance
To keep my freedom, therefore I make my stance.
Any way possible, then homelessness
Shall stay accessible.
Looking Out of Windows that Aren’t There
By Ramires K. Farrakhan
I like looking out
Of windows
That aren’t there
Basically an operating
System
Intrigues my soul mathematically
Would he know
What wondrous thought in
Ok I do want to be correct
Right
Which he was a small contributor
Or did he worry too far
Like many of us in glancing
Maybe there
If I lay it that freely
Will I be safe when they come
To resurrect myself a meadow
A tree a herd of goat or sheep
Let your body language as well as
Your utterances leave the message
Ancestor
Walking down a sidewalk, quietly reassuring
The faithful
Wherever we’ve come from
This is home.
THIS AGAIN
By Barbra Wright
This again.
Not just me and my husband, but my children
Adults in poverty
Who can’t make it without community.
Where will they go?
My four happy grandchildren
Stable and protected from the struggle,
Though aware of its reality.
No longer able to house them.
On the precipice of being thrust into the struggle.
Legacy gone
Wiped out in penstrokes
From the Snakes of Amerika.
Debt not even mine
Hopeless, helpless again.
How did this happen? Why did this happen?
A bottle of pills, and I won’t think, care, feel.
The sirens as the police chase me down
And on the way to their forced detention
Reminds me I’m not free and never will be.
Poverty is my reality.
I can’t protect, only community can.
Each according to their ability and needs.
Solutions, not problems.
Unite to fight
Safety in numbers.