The WatchmanSTUFF

 Today I met a homeless man that I was really moved by. He inspired me and was gentil and very humble. It humbled me. Out of nowhere he produced in a crumbled-up peace a paper a poem. I just had to share it to the world. I asked him if I could post it on this blog, He replied wide eyed and exited. " It's going on the internet?" in which I replied, "Yes, I hope it becomes famous." "Me too." he replied. So I'm going to share it with you guys. No Name.. My eyes are red, As like the blood that runs in my Aztec veins, Lest I know, The more I cry, I just want to die, Yō, this world is a ghetto. Author and poet,                               Alvaro R "Neto" Leon,     A.K.A. Psycho IIIX

As a watchman, I have seen what is not helping the good intentions and the good will of "nice" people trying to help the unfortunate, homeless, sick people of the gutters of society, lack of those who serve to provide help and services to the less fortunate is this. It's inefficient therefore being ineffective. There is a dose of hopelessness and disappointment at every door that the doorkeepers serve to every tired, hungry and hopeless soul, that knocks at the door of every mental health clinic, homeless shelter, "ministry" seeking a little Hope, help and care. Every "doorkeeper" the R.S.S., P.S.S., Social worker, Case worker, "advocate" needs a little bow before they grant services. Even when the services and resources are available. When they do grant services there is another door after that door to knock on. And that doorkeeper might not open and when he/she does, IF he/she does open, they are also known as, referral. You might get a ser...