Street Voices: Volume 1, Issue 1


He may not have a home, but he has a name.

Homelessness in the United States is an ongoing problem — which has festered for generations. In 2013, it has reached shameful proportions for a country which prides itself on being a place of opportunity and prosperity.

In Philadelphia, it’s real in the field. Eighty percent of the homeless population is African-American, one-third of the sheltered population are children. Sadly enough, the most common occupants are 18 years old and under. Eighty-six percent of the households are female-headed — while 14 percent are headed by males.

Philadelphia has a monthly publication titled ‘One Step Away’. Within its pages are the struggles of man woman and child expressed through prose and poetry. Upon reading their stories, I feel compelled to give these young men and women a broader audience.

It’s Personal 

No one knows the battles I fight,

As I cry in my bed all through the night.

All they see is questionable tears,

But they don’t know of my hidden fears.

This thing I tell you is a hidden foe,

This fight I fight is personal.

No one knows the roads, I’ve ran.

The blood that poured from the smitten hand.

All they see is the saddened face,

And actions displayed of my disgrace.

This thing I tell you is a hidden foe,

This fight I fight is personal.

No one knows why I do what I do,

Emotions paralleled of the color blue.

All they see is a wayward child,

Of a broken past in a shortened mile.

This thing I tell you is a hidden foe,

And this fight I fight — is so personal.



Overcoming Fear

Unable to cure rejection

yet uplifted

yet uplifted to be understood.

I try to understand and will listen.

Realization of all happiness

and reality of right this moment,

this picture is on realness

Walled city of tremendous heights

the glory is accepted.

Needed in appreciation

and important when valued righteous,

fear is uprooted.

Kindness can remain an effort

today until our eyes are truly bright.

Our hearts and minds can show gifts

to honor and be appealing,

Fear then not tolerated

and having all

we overcome.



Why Do I Cry

I don’t know why I cry

Is it from a broken heart .

Tears flood my eyes

Heart all torn apart.

I try to hold back the tears,

But they just keep on falling.

Surprised I survived these years,

But depression keeps on calling.

What is a king without a crown,

What is a circus without a clown,

What is an arm without a hand.

Still don’t know why I cry,

Is it truly from a broken heart.

Finally, I wiped my eyes,

Because my brokenness is my art.



3 Responses to “Street Voices: Volume 1, Issue 1”

  1. D. N. says:

    Ron..speechless. .

  2. michelle says:

    Wonderful piece!!!