Thanks to my stay at the San Diego Rescue Mission I was inspired by this lovely piece.

You walk around barking orders at women from the moment you walk into the door.

You stand there pointing your finger over and over again.

Kids run around screaming their heads off.

Moms sit and stare, some on their phones, some puffing on their cigarettes.

Me, sitting waiting for the day just to be over.

Wondering how and what I was doing there.

What is wrong with me, how could I do this to my kids.

Resignated and defeated I make the one call that I have dreaded all my life.

To their father. The one who has never been there.

And to my surprise he laughs and tells them that he can not help.

We walk downstairs to the room of death.

A morgue for the dead now converted for the living and in despair.

It’s gloomy and loud. for the children have not settled.

Five minute showers that’s all that is allowed.

While she walks out and yells to the kids to keep it down.

A feeling of depression overwhelms me then I hear her speak.

The devil in disguise. Welferas. People of the system.

She is spitting out words that roll of her tounge about how we have to get out of the system.

She then tries to smooth out her prejudice by saying,

“I once was there.”

But I ask myself where?

I have worked almost all my life since I was fourteen.

Making 8, 9 dollars an hour can not pay for 1200 dollars of rent.

The face that she makes is of disgust.

Then she bows down her head and says “let’s pray.”

The lower ones.

We are underground and not allowed to speak to the ones that live above us.

The lower ones.

The ones without a roof above our heads.

The lower ones.

At 7 am is the dismissal so you can return at 5.

Carrying your belongings all day long.

The lower ones.

You cant brush your hair because 4 more women are in the only bathroom.

I am thankful. Do not get me wrong. There is a roof on my head and food on my plate.

But this feels like the system.

I feel like if I was being punished and doing time for being poor and broke.

My health seems to get worst.

Then the devil return with a grim in her face and looks at me and says,

“You don’t look disabled.”

Wow I shake my head. I did not know or was I aware that one had to look disabled to be disabled.

The lower one.

In a dungeon of grim and the sad.

Where the food looks like slops.

The hot dogs are green and recycled chicken is every 3 days.

The lower ones.

But I am thankful. I have a roof on my head and food on my plate.

I want to cry and scream I do not want to be a lower one.

I want to work and have my own roof and cook my own food.

But I can’t afford it. Our health seems to be deteriorating.

But you know what.

Come to think about it.

I am not ashamed to be a lower one.

I am just one of many that has been lowered due to all this political greed.

I am one of many that have tried and somehow missed that step to greatness.

I am a lower, a lower who will rise from that dungeon of sadness,

And I will live to see many brighter days.


So you call yourself my mother.

So call yourself my mother.

But you can not really be my mother.

Years passed without you.

Yet you expect for one to pounce at the sight of you.

Out of all things, i learned respect,

because you are my “mother”.

But are you my mother.

You walked away from my life, blaming others.

You blame me for being like my dad.

How was I suppose to be like you if you were not there.

Your drugs were more important than your kids.

But somehow you manage to help others.

I see my friends mothers,

they act different than you. 

They love their kids and boast about their kids;

and you;

you can’t wait to talk shit about your kids.

There is always something wrong with us,

we pay no mind to you.

But where were you when we needed you.

I tried, i honestly tried but I can not call you mother.

A person who talks shit about their grandkids but praise other kids

can not carry the title of a mother.

Than you cry because you feel alone,

I wonder why?

You talk about the hurt that is being done to you,

but yet you hurt the ones that you are suppose to love and love you.

Yeah keep calling yourself a mother.

If that is what is going to make you happy,

But get one thing straight you have never been my mother.

Is Blood Thicker than Water?

I know that I am not the only one that has gotten mad with a family member or several.

What amazes me is how ignorant some family members can be.

I wondered for a while if I was wrong. 

Like they say sometimes we can only see the bad in others but not in ourselves or in our actions.

But for one. When they don’t have money they have come to me.

Two, when they did not have food they came to me.

Three, when they didn’t have a place to stay at they came to me.

I always received them with open arms and of course the house rules.

Which they broke every chance that they got.

I never had the heart to push them away because they are blood or family. 

But then situation would arise when I was struggling yet I could never see the lights of them.

They never asked if I needed anything come to think about it they never helped me out.

Have in mind I never asked for anything in return and could care less if they were there or not.

But I guess what blew the cork off the bottle was that once again I open my house and home

and they steal from me. Literally took money out of my wallet.

Then I ask to myself. Is blood thicker than water. Is family number one.

Then I have that one family member who disses her own father then tells him,

“you don’t love me because you pay more attention to my sister.”

Yet when he tries to hug her or give her a kiss she pulls away and screams “leave me alone”

Take in mind this is the one who he spoiled rotten.

Damn, I get confused at times.

But today i strongly disagree. I don’t actually no longer believe blood is thicker that water.

I think blood is too thick to travel like water and at time it turns hard and lumpy and can even kill you.




I want to scream and shout my lungs out.

I want to scream that I’m done.

My frustration bottled up inside me.

Wanting to all come out.

I want to stay away to run and disappear.

but knowing that you are sick keeps me near.

I know your family hates me for being the only one left.

And I see how you despise the only ones who have been there and cared.

I want to scream in your face and make you feel like shit.

Just like you have always managed to make me feel.

You supposedly taught me unity even when they were wrong.

I am the oldest you said and to lead from example.

But yet you treat me like crap and I feel all trampled.

I want to say I hate you but I know that that’s a lie.

Because I know that I will always love you even after you die.

Where are your so called children the ones that you so defend. 

Yet they don’t want to see you and don’t even fucken care.

Yet I am the one that gets shitted on the one that everyone hates.

The one they come crawling to when they desperately need help.

I try to stay away from everyone that I know

because they smile in your face and stab you in the back 

And you won’t even know.




I wanted to write about this because this hit to hard to home. When I was younger I left my home for many reasons that maybe, just maybe, I might write about one day. But this concluded that I was alone with no help from any of my family members. Until years later. When my kids where 7 and 4 years old, I was homeless and living in my car. At that time I had a Ford Expedition. I was also unemployed, it had been a very hard year for me since I was not used to not working. I remembered I acquired a good amount of experience working and I had found an add in the paper for a supervisor position at Uneyway, a Day Program that took care of adults with disabilities in El Cajon, CA. I remembered I had asked my mother to take care of my kids and she had said she would. I should of known not to trust her (she was a drug addict at that time).

The day came of the interview and I woke up early and went to drop off my kids but she did not open the door. When she was on a good trip, she would lock herself inside her house and pretended not to be home. I began to panic. I did not want to blow this opportunity. I started to cry and my daughter asked me what was wrong. I told her that I was about to loose a very good opportunity thanks to their grandma and she told me in the sweetest voice. “Don’t worry mom, I’ll take care of my brother, just make the bed and we will lay down until you come back.” In that time I did not carry the third seat in the expedition because I would fold the second row of seats down and make a bed so we could sleep. Plus I had a game boy for my son to keep him busy so I thought, wait maybe this could work. My interview was early in the morning and the day was cool. I thought to myself that if I left the windows half way down and parked as close as possible I could probably pull it off. I was nervous. I put my car into gear and headed down from Spring Valley to El Cajon.

In a time like this you don’t think about the casualties of children that stay inside hot cars with all the windows rolled up. In a time like this all I could think about was “if I get this job we can get a place to stay and food.” I can buy my son the shoes that he needs since the ones that he had on had holes all over and one size too small.” Tears kept running down my face. I was so angry at my mom. She knew how important this was for me.

Finally, I arrived at my destination. There were only a few cars in the parking lot and right in front of the office was a parking. I thought to myself “SCORE”. I can keep an eye on them while I’m in there. My daughter at her young age told me that everything was going to be OK and I heard her scolding her little brother “you better listen to me or my mom can get in big trouble and go to jail. You don’t want her to go to jail? Do you?” and my son responded quietly “NO”. They laid down in the back and my daughter gave my son the game boy to play with. I pulled all the windows down half ways and took a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

I walked into the small office, to my luck it had big windows that went all the way down to the ground with big white vertical blinds. I checked in with the old white lady at the front desk. She told me to take a seat and I stood close to the door and kept eyeing outside every chance that I could. When I got called I started breaking into a sweat and walked further inside where they proceeded to give me a tour of the place. She sounded interested in the fact that I had so much experience at my age. The tour couldn’t of lasted more than five minutes, but I felt it was for an eternity and we went into a small room adjacent to the entrance with the same kind of windows and blinds. The interview had then turned from one person to having three more people into the room. They sat me at the end of a long meeting type table and they sat close together just staring at me. Soon the questions that were being asked to me seemed very random. And I noticed that one of the lady’s was staring out the window. I turned to look and there was the old white lady from the front desk sticking her neck inside my vehicles window. I felt all hell rise inside me. How dare this women look inside my car. But then I thought oh my god maybe something is wrong with my kids. I jumped up and apologized to the interviewers and told them that I had to leave. I ran outside checked to see if my kids were fine and they were. My daughter told me that this woman heard my son laughing and she stuck her head inside the car. I told her not to worry and I drove back to the park in silence with my kids.

The following day my mother called and asked me if everything was fine. I told her yes no thanks to you. I noticed that she was not going to ague with me and asked her what she wanted. She told me that there was a woman at the door asking for my kids from the CPS department. The first thought was FUCK!!! My stupid ex husband must want something. It was not the first time that he or his girlfriends had called CPS on me. I drove to my mom’s house nervous as hell and wondered what could I have done wrong. When I arrived this older woman in her late 50’s was waiting inside my moms living room. She looked at me like if I was a piece of trash. She eyed balled me up and down. She asked me a couple of questions and then it hit me, she asked. “How many times do you leave your children unattended in your vehicle?” FUUUUCKKKK MEEEE!!! Son of a Bitch. Those fuckers had used my information from my application to find out where I supposedly resided and called CPS on my ass. I felt like a fucken criminal like I had done something horribly wrong. But all I had really done was look for a job to give my children a better life. I was crushed. I wanted to cry and scream at my mom but I swallowed everything because I was not going to give this bug eyed skinny Olivia looking lady the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

She then followed to speak to my son, (I was not aware that she had already been to my daughters school and had pulled my daughter out and spoke to her). She told my 4 year old son to pull up his shirt and asked how many times I would hit him. “This fucken bitch!” I thought. I envisioned in my mind me chocking her scrawny little neck and yelling at her “FUCK YOU!!! FUCK YOU!!!! Where the fuck are you when my kids are hungry or when we don’t have a place to stay!!!!” I turned at my son and smiled and told him “Tell her mijo. How many times do I hit you?” My son just looked at me and said “tu no me pegas mami.” (you don’t hit me mommy). I had told her everything that had happened and how I was doing what I was doing but still keeping an eye on them. The whole time my mother was quiet. the CPS worker then said she was going to write her report and that if she had any more questions that she was going to call me.

When the lady left, my mom was going to give me a speech but I walked out and jumped into my car and drove to my daughter’s school to pick her up. Not knowing that she was in the office already crying. I asked her what was wrong and she told me that a lady had pulled her out of class and spoke to her in the middle of the school court right were parents and kids passed and was asking her all these humiliating questions. I was so angry. How dare this women do this to my daughter. I pulled my daughter out of school that day. When I got inside the car I called the the place where I had had my interview and cussed the lady off so bad and thanked them for what they had done to me and my kids. I was angry and crying. They had no right. Who where they to judge me. Not everyone was born with a silver spoon in their platter. Some of us had to struggle to survive. But what did they know when they had a comfy job and income to support their families.

So Shanesha Taylor, Only you know your struggle. No one should judge you for that. Not everyone will understand what it is to leave a homeless life. Or have no help or support from family. I don’t know you but I have rode the same boat.


Today as I walked through the isles of the store,

Thinking, what can I afford with 5 dollars?

I saw a man with a suit and a coat and his tie.

He walked around on the phone mad at his assistant.

“What do I pay you for?!”

“That is why you are my assistant.!!”

When he hung up I overheard.

“Stupid Help!”

Wow I thought to myself who are you?

Why are you such a monster?

To my delight he stood infront of me at the check out line.

And opened his wallet to reveal several hundred dollar bills.

As I stood with my 2 pounds of apples for 1 dollar.

2 pounds of bananas for 1 dollar.

A small tray of eggs.

A total of 4.50.

I began to think what am I doing wrong.

I work 40 hours a day overtime when possible.

Yet by the end of my check I have 5 dollars left for groceries.

Really? I began to scroll through facebook and there in an article,

I see it, several posts of how  CEO’s pay have blossomed in the last decade.

Yet their workers are still overworked and underpayed.

Funny thing is that I don’t work at a burger joint and I’m not expecting to win more with no education.

My butt is in school still and I have an education.

Yet I end up with zero to feed my family.

So I do what I think will help me,

I go to the welfare office and beg for foodstamps,

like any other californian in my shoes.

(Southern California is hell of expensive to live in.)

Man, I love my response.

“Sorry but you make to much money to receive any help.”


My refridgarator has a half onion 2 eggs and half a gallon of milk.

And I make too much money.

I can’t afford shoes for my kids and their dead beat dad,

could care less.

But I am not playing the victim role here don’t get me wrong.

I’m a fighter and even if I have to go out and steal to feed my kids I will.

My thing is that all these politicians are just raking money to sit on their asses,

and correct me if I am wrong,

half of them are asleep or jibbering away with their neighbors.

The presidents are set for life even after office.

Yet a man or woman who gives their life to protect this country is either on the same boat as me,

or yet far off worst.

How is it that an athlete gets paid way more than a person who is giving their life to the country they believe in.

YOUR LIFE. Isn’t that worth something more than just a medal.

They serve with so much honor and pride but at the end most of them regret it.

How sad is the world that we live in.

We talk about feeding world hunger,

yet in our own country their is famine.

But unfortunately those who need it can’t get it because we have the leeches of society.

Those who don’t get off welfare because it pays better than a minimum wage job.

Those who deal drugs because it pays better than any job.

Those who die because they can’t face the fact that they have lost so much or can’t afford to survive.

This is the society we live in.

The one where you can’t look at another human being without being either cuzzed at or attacked.

The one were you don’t even know who your neighbor is anymore.

The Society, were if they see you down,

They will kick you so you can no longer get up.

What happened to the days where you even had a conversation with the mailman

or the garbage person.

Let’s make a trade jajajajajaja sorry but it’s the truth.

Correct me if i’m wrong.

Won’t the economy have a big effect if we all decided to stop buying for 1 day

2 days, 3 days, a weeks, even a month.

If we did not go to work (everyone at the same time) 1 day

2 days, 3 days, a weeks, even a month.

What a sight that would be.

I wonder if your boss would call you asking to double your pay becuase they are loosing profit.

I am aware nothing is free and that we have to work to earn our keep.

But it says work, not slave away.

Is this the depression all over again?

Are people ever going to rebel?

How far are we going to let the government get away with all their bullshit.

Sorry if I hurt anyones feelings it’s not my intentions.

But if you don’t agree with at least part of what I say,

You are probably one of them.

Dressing in your suit, coat and Tie.

Correct me if I am wrong.


They say that a bastard is a person that has no father.

Well to me you are a bastard.

You are the kind of person that give men a bad name.

Dead beat, a dead beat dad.

A person who cares more about others than his children.

Slimy evil rat, who cowards in the presence of the law.

But when no is there comes out and contaminates everything around him.

Dog, I think I am insulting them.

Because even my dog takes better care of his pups then the likes of you.

Pathetic, a man who covets money and possesions

And does not care if his kids eat that day.

Coward, a man who can leave his children in the cold and rain.

While he covers himself with a warm blanket on a nice comfy bed.

A father is suppose to provide for his children,

be there for his children.

But you, with your actions, make me the most wonderful father that my kids will ever know.