Security
Togetherness
Empowerment
Persevere
A small but mighty food shelf, no big hoopla to feed their mission, just a small town table of plenty, for those who fall through the cracks.. a gallon of milk, loaf of bread..
Clothes upon their backs, groceries in their cupboards, a hand to hold, a sense of security in thus often cruel world. People who care about helping others with no slap on the back, just a place of HOPE..
A woman with kids in tow, looking for housing, a job to make a honest living, no big spotlight feeds their mission, just a big heart to help others, we were once in their spot, we’ve never forgot..
STEP is GODS mission, to hold every person up in prayer, simple yet meaningful, my mission to help this who need it the most, STEP is our cities anchor, a place to go if you are struggling, with friendly faces to greet you.
God looks upon the heart of those who need help, without a big Blow up on social media…
…This little girl…
She’s someone new,
A miracle…
Who’s heart could pierce the moon
Although I don’t know her,
I see,
Her fall through the cracks of what’s unseen
She needs someone strong,
To stand by her side…
…Instead she’s found me…
…Instead she’s found me…
…Pathetic…Little…Me…
I step back as the door closes,
And to you I say, “goodbye…”
I open my mind
to fresh new ideas letting old
fall through the cracks
"Faith, in whatever your directives may be, will always be at a leap--and that must be so for it will justify the measure of your faith. Albeit, if you choose to will faith be delivered to you on a silver platter, then stand still and it will be done. Leap or bestilled, these are the measures of your faith. The method of approach was to appeal to a greater number because there is an obstacle known as doubt. That will be the impetus for a good measure to fall through the cracks." ... by Poet
Faith yon leap
faith bestilled.
Reach out and touch
bring on a silver tray.
Measure your will
your will be done.
Where there is doubt
there is a crack to fill.
I have not had the repeated visitor in my room for a while.
I thought maybe he was staying in his room. No such luck.
He was in the office when I went in to print something.
“What are you doing?” he asked me. I did not have time to answer.
“She is busy,” my boss told him. I was glad she did this.
He has been brought to my office many times.
He will not stay in a classroom long.
School is not valued in his home.
He skipped the last two years – both online.
One was our school online.
The other one was virtual school which never reported him missing.
He is nine. He has missed two whole years of school.
He is in the second grade, sadly.
How did he fall through the cracks?
He does not know his alphabet or his numbers.
He wants to play in a sandpile or with Playdough.
I cannot say that I blame him.
I confess…
This city is the reason why cancer exists
I tend to build buildings too high
And you burn too much coal,
Thinking every room needs to be warm
So I confess…
My lungs are beginning to feel the toll
I feel trapped
And you have hidden every key possible
Believing that I won’t be able to see deceit through smoke
I know rain isn’t supposed to feel like this
But we are the reason it has no regard for preservation;
Our skin isn’t supposed to burn like this
We along with this city will dissolve into each other
The ground isn’t supposed to shake like this
Maybe we will fall through the cracks
I confess…
We will disappear as the sun did years ago
I am simply waiting
And you, you have been hiding beneath ignorance
Hoping that we will have a place to go after all of this is done
So I confess…
I stopped planning for the future the day the sun refused to come back
I forgot how to love as soon as the color of the leaves began to turn in summer
I knew my mind became infected the day the water became contaminated
I confess…
This isn’t the first time that I have damned a city
The crack of dawn
The crack of the bat...
A crack in the pavement
Fall through the cracks...
Crack cocaine
A crack fighter pilot...
A clever wisecrack
That cracked me up...
Crack your knuckles
Jimmy crack corn
Crack a smile
Crack the whip...
To comprehend this little ode
You have to crack the language code
ONE CHILD
One child one chance, to get it right,
To love each child with all your might,
To show God's love, His light, and truth,
To set the stage for a future for our youth.
To inspire to aspire to the opened door,
of the path of their leading, to rise to and soar.
Let not one child fall through the cracks,
Keep straight and clear the narrow tracks,
The trail of destiny each child should heed,
By example, each one of us should lead.
It takes one to build, or destroy a land.
So let's first put each child in God’s capable hands.
So that every child that would be lost,
Would be the one child saved, whatever the cost.
With unity of family being there,
The family of those showing care.
They say it takes a village to raise a child,
but it also takes one flame to burn a forest wild.,
Someone said, “Can’t we all just get along,
For the sake of one child not going wrong?”
One child.
While others fall through the cracks of society,
I confront every crack with a willing dive and leap.
I am the greatest slacker that has ever come to be,
never contributing anything to anything or anybody,
always taking the path of least resistance religiously.
Once while collecting unemployment, while on welfare
and social security disability,
while also collecting a pension I received monthly,
a government official paid a visit to me.
Now I live in a resort prison of very minimum security.
Room and board, three square meals, everything that I need,
to live the rest of my life comfortably absolutely work free.
I am the most successful slacker of all slackers
that have ever come to be.
When shadows creep on a darkened streets
and the lampposts have gone dim
When trouble lurks around each bend
and life's happy path turns grim
Will I be there to catch you
before you fall on through the cracks
Will I be there to guide you
to let you know I have your back
In the darkest hour of the darkest night
I will always bring you light
When times get tough and you had enough
I will be there for you to fight
I will walk with you
I will talk with you
I will share each loving breath
for you my son are number one
I'll protect you til my death
09/05/2015
The battles on the field are harsh and tough
The looting in their wake engorged with greed
Abundant spoils of war are not enough.
Atrocious in their acts that make no sense
The women and the girls are taken slaves
Abusing them with lust and violence.
Unable to resist the touch of shame
The captive females cry in pain and fear
Their lives will never be again the same.
And when the dust of war has blown away
The children of the foe get born to those
Who months before fell prey and ravaged lay.
Unwanted children still need loving care
Mothers find it hard to nurture such babes
Shame is endured by children in despair.
Their lives are defined by horrid attacks
Evil men who satisfied selfish needs
Indignities make them fall through the cracks.
Who loves a child rejected by its kin?
Society offers them no solace
The “enemy’s child”, created by sin;
But all these children still have hearts and souls
Rejection renews the cycle of pain
When there is no one who cares or consoles.
-----------------------------------------------------
Co-write: Paul Callus & Carolyn Devonshire
@ March 2015
The battles on the field are harsh and tough
The looting in their wake engorged with greed
Abundant spoils of war are not enough.
Atrocious in their acts that make no sense
The women and the girls are taken slaves
Abusing them with lust and violence.
Unable to resist the touch of shame
The captive females cry in pain and fear
Their lives will never be again the same.
And when the dust of war has blown away
The children of the foe get born to those
Who months before fell prey and ravaged lay.
Unwanted children still need loving care
Mothers find it hard to nurture such babes
Shame is endured by children in despair.
Their lives are defined by horrid attacks
Evil men who satisfied selfish needs
Indignities make them fall through the cracks.
Who loves a child rejected by its kin?
Society offers them no solace
The “enemy’s child,” created by sin;
But all these children still have hearts and souls
Rejection renews the cycle of pain
When there is no one who cares or consoles.
*Co-written with Paul Callus
As the days go by you rub away at me
and peel back the pages of my skin
Soon I shall be raw, sore and broken
As you undo me
So you have undone me again
And I am me and you are you
And we are nothing
I am broken
your hands are too small to gather me up
so I fall through the cracks of your fingers
each day a little more
Then what's left is the black side
The dark side
The spiteful sharp bits
Like the leftovers of a roast chicken
Photos of us are in the shadows
Overcast by clouds
Our hands held strong
Covered by darkness
Sat with the what ifs and the could've done
So I wait
And you wait
For the sun to shift and show us the light
But the clouds don't move
And we never again feel the same
So we are gone
Fallen, to the low ground
The ground beneath the grounds
where people rarely go as they never make it back again
Claw away at the mud cracked on our bodies
trying to reach the light
Every day
The we that we were is further away
After a time we close our eyes and forget
What was
Until there is nothing left of us
Just two people that used to be in love
I find myself wondering if I matter in the scheme of things
If i could make a difference in the world where there is chaos
Brothers fighting brothers, for no reason other than who is right
Many out there who fall through the cracks, unseen, unheard
What can i do to change things in the cold world we live in
Who will hear my voice, whether I speak softly or loudly?
Do I not cry when hurt? Laugh when told a joke?
Does my heart not need love to make me happy?
Is my life not worth the effort of a kind smile or word?
How can many see the suffering of others and just pass by?
Not wanting to get involved, to get their hands dirty
They pass by whith no thought that they could make a difference
To show that there is some kindness, to lighten a load a little
It makes me wonder do I even matter in the scheme of things?
CRACKS IN REALITY
I AM NO LONGER ABLE TO CATCH A GLIMPSE OF MY REFLECTIONS
IN THE CRACKED MIRRORS OF OUR RELATIONSHIP.
AS THE FISSURES WIDEN, PIECES OF ME SLIP INTO.
I FALL THROUGH THE CRACKS, INTO DIMENSIONS
LYING IN WAIT ON THE OTHER SIDE.
IN THEM, THERE WILL BE NO PLACE TO HIDE.
AND SO, WHAT I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW ?,
WHAT LIES IN THE SPACES BETWEEN THE OBVIOUS ?
THOSE THINGS NEVER SPOKEN OF
AS I TRY TO RISE ABOVE,
KNOWING, THERE IS NEVER TO BE LOVE
FOR THIS OLD MAN,
WHO PLAYED HIS HAND.
LOST, IN THE GAME,
LOVE HER NAME.
LOVE FOR HIM NEVER CAME.
B. J. 'A' 2
OCTOBER 5TH 2010
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