Here’s a piece of flash fiction about desperate people and robberies. It’s about 430 words and has an estimated reading time of about 2 minutes. Let me know what you think!
Continue reading “Some Things Just Aren’t Worth It (Flash Fiction)”
7-3-22
Homelessness in America is a scandal and a moral crime. We are the wealthiest country in the world, and yet, in every major city I’ve been to, I’ve noticed the homeless population rising.
I have written about affordable housing enough in my day job to know the housing problem is complex. But after every story I write and every real estate professional I talk to, I come away with the feeling there are endless excuses as to why the homelessness problem can’t be solved or at least significantly diminished. I mostly get the feeling that most people who can truly solve the problem don’t care, and greed is the primary factor. Increasingly, these injustices no longer shock me, and they seem commonplace and almost inherent in the human species, something that will never change.
Continue reading “New World (Part 10) – A Poetry Journal”
Here’s a piece of flash fiction about a homeless man and looking closer at the world. It’s about 424 words and has an estimated reading time of 2 minutes. Let me know what you think!
Continue reading “The Hiddenness of Things (flash fiction)”
the filthy-bearded man greets me
at six a.m., looking for a friend
he speaks gibberish, not knowing
where he is, how he arrived
at my steps, as i step back
he’s unmasked, skinny like an
old, crusted scarecrow with
scared eyes and smeared jeans
Continue reading “Scarecrow (a poem)”
Damnificados is based on the real-life story of the occupation of the “Tower of David” in Caracas, Venezuela, during the country’s housing shortage. The tower is an unfinished skyscraper abandoned in Venezuela’s capital city in 1994 because of another national crisis (this one having to do with banking).
Continue reading “Book Review: Damnificados by JJ Amaworo Wilson”
The woman asks me for ten dollars – she demands it
I’m reluctant, standing in a pock-marked city,
but feeling pity for her, as she frantically talks
her eyes yellow like harvest moons
her voice shrieks like an urban banshee –
the realities of poverty and addiction,
the rich getting fatter off broken backs.
I reach into my wallet, hand her a ten-dollar bill
she hugs me + hurries away, vanishing into the night,
and as I walk home, I wonder if I’ll ever need to
ask for my ten dollars back
(Photo by Vitaly Taranov on Unsplash)
We are damnifacados: homeless, junkies,
people deem us less than human.
When you pass us on a hectic street, we’re resting with
backs to the wall asking for mercy, spare change –
you look away from our weathered faces,
we feel disgrace, in our soiled clothes, our tired eyes.
Continue reading “For the Homeless & Damnificados (a poem)”
