In Their Own Words

Some poems written by runaway and homeless children
collected by Benford E. Standley.  Over the first months
of the New Millennium we will be collecting poems that
are written by kids that have had real life experiences as
being a runaway youth in the streets and alleys of these
United States of America
 

 Image by FlamingText.com
FIND SOME PROGRAMS THAT TRY
TO  STEM THE TIED OF INHUMANITY

Hey,

This is sarah louise brocksmith, I'm 15 years old. 
I have been locked up on and off for about 3 years.
I'm still locked up today 6/15/01.  I'm just on a 
weekend pass.   I'm in "BYS" in Marshall, Missouri.
I had 9 deaths in one year in1998,  the person who 
died that I was very, very close to was my dad David
Wayne  Brocksmith. After, he's death I went crazy.
 I started to do drugs,runaway,and getting in trouble 
with the law. And now I finally learned my lesson.
I'm getting on with my new life. And when I get out 
of this placement. I'm going to be awhole new
Sarah.

P.S If, I can help any teens   PLEASE  e-mail me at 

Thankz, 
Sarah Louise Brocksmith
                   
 

Hey,

Yes I been in more place ments.
I have Been in Framington's childrens home in
Missouri.  and been in mexico's hosptial in Missouri
about 25 times,  And been in springfield, Missouri 
hosptial 1 time, then prenger's in jefferson, Missouri
1 time, then I went back to "BYS" in Marshall,
Missouri for my second time.

I went to these place ments cause, I ran away from
home and other place ment.  Doing drugs,braking in 
a band-it house,and getting kicked out of school.

I have been locked up on and off for about 3 and
half years.  I have got two DFS workers. One DJO 
worker.

And I would be gald to help

Bye-Bye 
sara brocksmith


Dear Sir: 

My name is Amy Magon and I am 16 years
old. I am a runaway and presently staying 
at the Oasis Runaway Shelter.  The poem 
I am submitting,  entitled  "The Time" 
means a great deal to me.  I wrote it for 
my family before  I left them.  I want to 
express to families of runaways that their 
child most likely does not want to leave 
but feels compelled to  go.  I feel  "The 
Time" best expresses my message. 
Thank you for your time and I look for-
ward to hearing from you. 

Sincerely yours, 
Amy Magon 


 
THE TIME

The time has come 
for me to depart 
But please my friend 
keep me in your heart. 

It is time for me to go 
I can not stay 
But don't fear my friend 
I'll be back someday. 

So, I leave with tears 
in my eyes 
I promised myself 
I would not cry. 

But my friend 
I shall say 
I'll be back 
another day.


My name is Amber Cohen, and these are 
a few of my poems.  I hope 
that i haven't sent them too late.  I saw 
your flyer at a Grateful Dead Show. 

Amber 

P.S. I'm 19 now and a "successful" runaway. 
I ran away at 16, after being institutionalized by
my mother, and the State of Louisiana. (Wrongly, 
of course) (As usual) 

I had another one of those nightmares, Mommy. 
You know,  the ones where I'm in the Quiet Room, 
blinded by the white. I hear the door click shut be-
hind me and I run to it, (and I run to you).  But 
there's no doorknob on my side, (and  you're on
the other side). And later the other come and I tell 
them, My Mommy wouldn't leave me here, there's
some mistake.  They shake their heads and say
they never thought their Mommies would leave 
them here either. I usually wake  up when They 
start putting me in The Bed (you know  the one 
with the straps.)  And I always wake up crying and
I know I can't forgive you, until the nightmare stop 
forever...!

He's scowling just like He was the day the nurse 
told him I wet the bed.  But I realize trying, trying 
to defend myself to Them was useless.  Useless, 
because I am crazy and They are not.  But, I know 
(and that's what counts), that I wasn't being child-
ish or coercive or manipulative or hateful, ungrateful, 
or crass.  I know that I called for Nurse to bring 
me the pan.  She didn't come.


Helplessly, 
They're rising, falling. 
Desperately, 
The voices calling, 
Voices crying. 
Silent screaming fades away. 
(Where white doors lock and white walls blind, 
They bound my soul and bleached my mind).
d

d
The kids today, in a crazy way,
do things that make men sway,
They steal,
They stab,
And make people mad,
By taking things
and breaking glass.
         David Woodward, 13
It's a game
Stupid
A non-chalant escape
of life
I am
Skeptical
I just
Don't 
Want to play.
            Pam Harman, 14 from Spring, TX
d
A man got caught in the web
the men got away from the web
the woman got in the web with her man
the little boy and girl got caught in the web
the baby got tangled in the web
the end.

Stacie Allison, 13

Maybe I took it all for granted. 4 walls, 
my walls, and a window to the other world. 
And widely scattered affections are better 
than the drought. 
But the psychobooboos of White Nightmares 
drain sickly, slowly at my blind and 
bleeding fingertips. 
And I ran and I ran and here I am. 
(impoverished and unsure) but free, 
(not where I thought I'd be) but lucky. 
And They won't catch me, this time 

                    Mary Hulsebosh 16 year old runaway

WHAT ARE PARENTS? 
PEOPLE WHO SAY NO. 
PEOPLE WHO TELL YOU 
WHERE YOU CAN AND CANNOT GO. 
ARE THEY WHAT THEY'RE CRACKED UP TO BE? 
WHY DOES IT SEEM THEY'RE 
NEVER NICE TO ME? 
THEY TREAT ME LIKE A CHILD. 
I THINK I'M MATURE, 
BUT THEY THINK I'M WILD. 
DO THEY LOVE ME? 
I WISH I KNEW 
BECAUSE ID DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO. 

                              also by Mary Hulsebosh


 
If you are a runaway,
homeless, or missing
we would love to have
your poem for our
special page.  Email
us...thanks

The Stars summon
my feelings bright 
forever wonder
feelings unexpressed
may I touch
and understand
I've reached out
but couldn't grasp
help me find
a single handhold
on a ladder
into myself
and all else
one continuous
step towards
the understanding
I seek.
              Brian Smith, 14 yr
.

ran and i ran and
here i am. 
(impoverished
and unsure)
but free. (not where
i thought i'd be)
but lucky
and they won't 
catch me
this time.
                ? 

I wish I were a bird
so I could fly
into the sky
and see
How it is to be
in a silent world 
of the free
David Puckett, 12
 
 

In Association with Amazon.com


SOME RAN EAST...SOME RAN WEST

CHAPTERS


by Benford E. Standley

"TRUTH IS LIKE A TORCH...
FROM IT WE SHIELD OUR EYES
FOR FEAR OF BEING BURNED"
in the sand

Infanticide 333

In Their Own Words
Poems and words from the streets

Sins of the Fathers
 

The Throwaway Child

 

Dear God

What happened in Houston?


Down and out in L.A.
an ongoing saga of the homeless

Foster Lack of Care
 

IF YOU ARE A RUNAWAY, OR HAVE EXPERIENCED
BEING A RUNAWAY IN THE STREETS OF AMERICA,
WE WOULD HOPE THAT YOU PLEASE SEND TO US
VIA EMAIL.  IF POSSIBLE GIVE US A PLACE WHERE
WE CAN FIND YOU IN THE FUTURE.


1998-06 Benford E. Standley
All Rights Reserved.

We were the children,
Benford E. Standley