In my community
Where poverty is
The way of life
For too many.
We struggle
To hold hope
Within our heart
On a daily basis.
Fighting
Against the urge
To become
Another drug town.
In seeking
An avenue
Of escape
In whatever form
Available.
Where
Death is found
A penny
For a dozen souls.
Regardless
Of race
Or gender.
In numbing
Our senses
Against
The brutal grind
Of daily life.
As the mentally ill
Are found
In the discount bins
Of the local Wal-Mart.
Abandoned
And forgotten
By society
Like yesterday's DVDs.
Only
To be tossed
In the local
Landfill.
Therisa © 2016
Author's note: The above protest poem was created, from this word bank: community, hope, poverty, drug town, and Wal-Mart.
For the record, I live, in one of thirteen "priority neighbourhoods", in the city of Toronto, that lacks basic infrastructure, which a modern community needs, to sustain, the development of a healthy population. Where, the local supermarket, is nothing more, than a convenience store.
Due to budget cuts, over the past decade, in Ontario, the mental health programs have declined to the point, long term programs are being eliminated and replaced, with short to medium term ones. With the added burden of long waiting lists, to those long term programs that still exist. Literally, a penny-wise, and a pound foolish, as the old saying goes.
Due to budget cuts, over the past decade, in Ontario, the mental health programs have declined to the point, long term programs are being eliminated and replaced, with short to medium term ones. With the added burden of long waiting lists, to those long term programs that still exist. Literally, a penny-wise, and a pound foolish, as the old saying goes.
