Apologies to Clement Moore

It’s still the same in Boulder, CO’s homeless ghetto in 2015 . . .

homelessphilosopher

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the “house”

Every Housing First client was drunk as a louse.

Their stockings were filthy, their underwear too;

They know not detergent, soap, or shampoo.

The drunkards were passed out all over the place,

While visions of  booze brought a smile to each face.

Staff members on duty were snoozing away —

Bored, not pickled; can they be blamed?

When from the homeless shelter next door there arose such a roar,

Staff and residents both ran to see what it was for!

The moon was dark and the night was clear;

A truck wrecked next to the shelter, loaded with beer.

This started a riot, as you can imagine.

Bums poured outside to each gulp a few gallons!

The driver was dazed and staggered around,

Then he got mugged ‘ere he hit the ground.

Fists were flying, a few kicks landed too;

A hundred inebriates were intent…

View original post 126 more words

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