The Los Angeles Rescue Mission was founded almost one hundred years ago in the wafting-waxing, days of the rapidly ascending 20th century. The Los Angeles Rescue Mission moved from their old address to the current fortification of hope on 5th St, downtown LA, smack dab on the "Nickel," as the old-timers used to call it. The ghosts of these old timers blow down these desolate streets, like personal tumbleweeds of failure. The barely discernible present day specters, which had once been living, Loving, thinking, and hoping individuals with parents, perhaps a kid or two, or three of five, had dreams, which have been displaced to these streets of neglect, failure and shame.

 

The Los Angels Rescue Mission sits right in the barely beating heart of Los Angeles’s homeless population. Its all here folks; herr-on, by-gones, woe-be-gones who are too far gone, washed ups, tossed ups, free sups and lost pups, highs, lows, withdrawal throes,frozen toes, big lows and desperadoes. The tempest-tossed, cold with frost, thoroughly lost, always sauced, and looking for drugs at any cost. We endure long lines, supines, ties that bind, few are kind. There are those on crack, them that are whack, watch your backs, and that's a fact Jack.

 

We got weed, seed, the many to feed, and those in dire need. Our citizens are Strawberries, blewberries, dingleberries, fairies, Mary’s and the hairy. He-She's, Tyrannies, spandex fannys, daggers, draggers, fags and dykes. Yikes!

 

We sometimes cry, "Look at the tits on that guy!" Dragons, flagons, and homeless wagons. masturbators, minor criminals, lesser charges, its all so subliminal.

 

You'll see skid-row loggers, old codgers, grimy coots and hodge-podgers. Cougars, luggers, huggers and muggers. Pagans, Fagins, torn ole leggings, and scraps for beggins.

 

There are garbage eaters, people beaters, carnivores, and five dollar whores. We got glocks that mock, snitches who talk, felons who walk, pump-gauge, 30 aught, old age and straights who gawk. Pimps, wimps, drunks, chimps and chumps.

 

You'll see bar fights and bum fights, using kicks and bites. cuz we have no rights, and were usually high as a kite. Its all such a blight.

 

We have bad-hair days, we all all decayed, most of plans have been delayed, cuz somehow we got way-laid.

 

We seldom do a laundry, its a major quandry, because who has five quarters to spare, even if its for socks and underwear.

 

We got Thrifty and Rite-Aid, for our TB and AIDS, use your Medi-Cal and Midi-Caid, relax the Governments got it paid.

 

We got your bennies, no Denny’s, work for pennies, many have old tennies. Float down the LA River, it'll make you quiver, $5.00 is a fiv-ver, and by the way, how's your liver?

 

Our rainbow menu, and I dont mean to offend you, consists of reds, whites, even blue Viagra, use it with our girls as wet as Niagara. We got China white, Mexican brown, black tar, uppers, downers and skid row bars.

 

You can buy Percs, Vics, and Oxy’s from Hypes.

 

You’ll see hookers, lookers, snookers, bet-bookers and dopecookers. Knockers, cockers, old dockers, chuckers, "get fuck"ers,and slime-muckers. Lowriders, flood tiders, we wear our pants below our ass, and we smoke a ton of grass.

 

We got hide outs, look outs, police scouts, obnoxious louts. Spitters and shiters and one hit hitters. Got the FBI and Feds, all kinds of meds, and Safe-Sleep beds.

 

Watch out for Crack-heads, base heads perhaps a burn victim from a very broken system. Some suffer spasms, chasms and orgasms.

 

We endure limps, gimps, and wimps, freaks and the occasional geek, all down here, 7 days a week. You'll get dissed on 5th, and fooled again on San Julian, and Please don't go to San Pedro, needless to say Wall ain't no fun at all.

　

Sometimes we get vegetarians, humanitarians, perhaps a librarian, Priest or Deacon, Volunteers and Vegans, Chaplains and Preachers, ex-CEO's and disgraced teachers.

 

Can I get a witness?

 

You'll hear the lunch bell, lunatics that yell, the mighty who fell, but please dont tell. Look out for hucksters, dont give a fucksters, and down on their lucksters, Mockers, rockers, hackers, crackers and their backers. Dionysus, I’m not being facetious, dope-King Croesus, nephews and nieces, Oh Holy Jesus!

 

Our Gods are Erotes, Eros qnd Bacchus, don’t nobody mock-us, and don’t forget Cupid and Aphrodite, Those are our Gods they rule here and are mighty.

 

We'll never have an annuity; we beg for a gratuity, our clothes Ain’t from Coterie, but maybe some day when we win the lottery. Crack and weed is our biz, we wear rags with throw up and jiz, pay attention cuz there will be a quiz, and you are what you are and you is what you is.

 

It’s all chaos and chases, wailers, sirens and basers. Cop cars, rock stars, windows have bars, we use piss jars. Come try our pretty boys and fairies, Chicken ass and canaries, whose milk aint from dairies.

 

Our sidewalks have shit and urine, spilt wine from sloppy pour-in, and condoms from whorin'. We got kids and tykes, children on bikes. Toddlers and swaddlers, with parents that cant be bothered.

 

We love cheap wine, Tupac rhymes, nickels and dimes, and people who done time. Get yourself a dime bag, old hag, girls who gag, those who nag, femmy fags with shopping bags.

 

We got gang-bangers, low hangers, low riders and fugitive hiders.

 

We got Christians, athiests, Muslims and Hindus. Guys name named Abdulah, Mohammed and Buella will do. Lots of Darryls and Willies, Dianas and Jillys. Keishas, Lisas and Roweshas, and Ramesh-a. Papa, uncles and aunties, and their nieces who fall thru the creases. We got all religeons, all colors and creeds, need an alias, pick any, any alias you need.

 

We listen to Biggy Small, tales too tall, watch those headed for a fall, but please dont expect my call.

 

We got the unemployed and disadvantaged, disengaged, and drunk Santas.

 

We are persuaders, dissuaders, hateful haters and free traders. Rock singers with golden fingers, guys on binges, and dollar syringes.

 

We play dice, deal with lice, some pet mice, kids are still nice and rats big enough for saddles. You'll see wheelchairs and walkers, canes and stalkers, the handicap, most down here can rap, with turn'd round baseball caps.

 

We buy pipes from hypes, Yipes!, Pamper dipes, food too ripe, really all types.

 

There are trucker caps, walkway crap, Metro Bus maps, sidewalk naps, tasar zaps, Brother can you spare a dime taps, and Spics, and Kooks and Japs.

 

We got Ameri-cans, Mexi-cants, Orientals, monumentals, Slavs, Slaves and the slovenly, Hispanic, organic, sailors from the Atlantic but don’t panic. Don’t get frantic.

 

You’ll see Spics, Micks and Flips with no moneyclips. Arabs, Sand Niggers and Snow Bunnies. They yell, "Hey Man! Yo Bro!" It’s who ya know. "Sup Cuz, Needn’ a buzz?"

 

Everyone here is Cuz, Bro or Nigg-a. And all too often is heard, that all encompassing word, Blacks calling each other Nigg-a, Down here, those names are simply de rigueur. go Fuckin' figure.

 

And the colored girls go do, da, do, da, do, do, do, do.

 

You'll see Bush Vets, mangy pets, bird nets, baseball bets, and petty debts. We got Neer-do-wells, been to Hells, all sorts of crazy yells, and know this folks, appearances do tell.

 

We got the unwashed and the dirty, Breakfast served at 5 30. Donated food is what we got; what we got is 3 hots and a cot.

 

We talk on our cells, We'll talk to God, and we talk to ourselves, but don't you find that odd?

 

We got bars on the windows, steel on our doors, holes in the ceiling and cement on the floors.

 

You’ll see full moons, smacked balloons, total loons talking of impending doom, cooking spoons and K-Earth tunes

 

On the first of the month, we become spending fools, buying street drugs and booze, yes we become spend-thrifts, but rarely do we see a dentist.

 

We got black eyes on white faces, Street lawyers for our cases, Brown eyes of all races Black hearts, Blue balls, street smarts, and pipes for bases.

"

We take all kinds of pills that give us all kind of thrills but the thrill we’ll never known, is the thrill that’ll getcha when you get picture on the cover of the Downtown News."

 

We’re deaf, dumb and blind some, we shit out pants. when we got the runs And constipation just aint no fun, when you squeeze out a turd that weighs a ton.

 

We got TB and pneumonia, Aids and HIV, if you smile at me, I might bone-ya, you won't do better than me.

 

We receive bruises from cruisers, most of us users are boozers, down here everybody loses, and we watch the Buck-eyes and Hoosiers.

 

Cuz you know we got Gangsters and OG’s, Kim Kardashian and Mr. T, Carrie Fisher and

Heavy D.

 

Or you might see Ed Begley and Jennifer Love Hewitt, some of them have been through it. Those stars sure is pretty, you’d have to agree. They come down here and then the Mayor, gives them a Key

 

We got AA and CA, Internet and E-Bay. Computers, diluters, one kick-ass Hooters, and Shooters and tooters

 

We play poker and Texas Hold Em, make your play or else your foldin’, Handmades? You got to roll ‘em, Or a quarter a piece from guys who sold ‘em.

 

We see the kind leading the blind, read LA Opinion and the LA Times, Munch on pork and watermelon rinds, and pay hefty Jay-walking fines.

 

We are anorexic and dyslexic, Anemic and bulimic, Overweight, both sexes, Sizes 1X to 5 X’s

 

We walk barefoot, But don’t dare step, in the piss, the puss or the excre-ment Its not exactly Heaven sent.

 

But hey, no worries about Rent.

 

My country, tis a pity, for thee I cry, for a war made of prifits, not pride. From every mountainside, I sing, you wanna buy real gold a ring?

 

We don’t believe; You’ll pay us back, in mild heart attacks, in Tens or Jacks, or that all writers are hacks.

 

We don’t believe in; Good news comes in twos, It's too good to be true, that Love is Blue, or She Loves You,

 

Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!

 

We don’t believe in Kingdom Come, They Will be Done, that she’s come undone, or Wings were a band on the run We don’t believe in happily ever after, the words of my Pastor, unwed mothers breed bastards, or Grasshoper became a Master. "Don’t be snatcing no Motha-fucking rock, ole man!"

 

We don’t believe good news comes in the mail, I'm not going to Jail, cuz you’ll post my bail, or only the weak are frail.

 

We don’t believe it’ll get better; You’re not a debtor, in cheeses like Feta, or the checks in the letter. We don’t believe a job is coming, Gospel is for humming, that you were really coming, or being toothless makes good gumming.

 

We don’t believe in financed cars, lame Yuppie bars, Hollywood Superstars, or your from Venus, I’m from Mars.

 

We don’t believe in Love and marriage, Cinderella’s carriage, Hey Man, your living in my Gare- age, so get the Fuck out….Mothafucker! We don’t believe that sex is bad, that I'm her Dad, I can be had, or drugs are a fad,

 

We don’t believe our kids are happy, movies that are sappy, women who are yappy, or that guys too old to be her Pappy.

 

We definitely don’t believe that’s one is ever enough, in DA’s that bluff, you’re that tough, or in bracelets with a cuff. Book 'em Dano. We don’t believe in happy endings, rules not bending, money is for lending, or time is mending.

 

We don’t believe that God Loves thee, Heavens above me, soup that does me, or men who suss me.

 

We don’t believe in Celebrity Rehab, Moby Dick and Ahab, in sheletrs that are pre-fab, or your Mexican and not an A-Rab.

 

We don’t believe in that Batman and Robin Hood are still alive in Hollywood, you would’ve shown up if you could, or all the Boys are from the Hood.

 

We don’t believe in abstinence, a white picket fence, a quick fanny pinch, or mobs who lynch.

 

We don’t believe in organic food, only oil can be crude, in women who act like a dude, or PMS is just a bad mood.

 

We don’t believe the President, promises of rent, Superman was Clark Kent, or that you gave that up for Lent.

 

We don’t believe in the power of fear, the Golden Years, the sky will clear, or that anyone really cares.

 

We don’t believe in Dad and Mum, pits are only found in plums, the size of her Bum, or you’re really that dumb?

 

We don’t believe in growing old, the current price of Gold, coming in from the cold, or doing what we're told.

 

And on those days that it rains, Everybody complains, Of arthritis and pains, both the disturbed and the sane, dragging walkers and canes, On the days that it rains

 

But we’re Fucked, we’re in a pickle. Death lives here with a blade and Sickle. So hop in you car or on your motor-sickle, And come on down. Here's to the Nickel

 

And that’s the Nickel. That’s where I live. That’s my home; 5th and Nowhere. The Last Train to Bumsville. Desolation Row, Leave your hopes and dreams at the door. Because one thing every one of us share down here is despair. And that’s how it is down here people, ain’t life fickle? It’s all right here, right here on the Nickel.