Aroun’ de Town — Notes From the Homeless Perimeter: “Name of the Accuser“

*****

During the visit of the two officers to this poet’s shelter to tell her she may never place it upon the:

  • unused
  • unmaintained
  • indistinguishable
  • unmarked
  • and unposted

… tiny triangle which allowed her sufficient shelter from night winds to be able to sleep in the cold…

(It being 3:30 a.m. on her third consecutive wakeful night, again to be followed by her third consecutive day of being forbidden to rest “in public,” the poet seems certain soon to be in a condition unfit to render her society any further written service)

… she did request to be granted her Constitutional right to know the name of her accuser.

Now — her promise to her readers having been to publish the name of any individual who, by lodging a complaint of “camping” after dawn which resulted in her being made to deconstruct her one-man shelter and pack her exposed possessions into her cart in the rain — of course, she would not have done the same with a complaint of (unintentional) trespassing, the enforcement of which did not in fact precipitate that evil.

In point of fact, what the poet did publish was an apology to that entity.

However, in the American spirit of fair play and equality, she did wish to have the information for herself.

The words of her request were not even out of her mouth before both officers were shaking their heads.

“That only works in court,” each of them said, identically…

… Leaving her — if, in fact, whoever prepared those officers with their expected response before their visit was indeed correctly informed as to the law — with two observations, one general and one individual:

On a general and purely practical level, such a system of law prohibits anyone lacking the stability, credibility and sufficient inner resources remaining from daily, hourly, minute-by-minute crazy-making routine neglect and abuse of his or her fellowman toward a homeless person to actually initiate a court proceeding against an established “respectable” entity from even being advised of the identities behind the ubiquitous “complaints” which attach themselves like so many barnacles to their records — reserving this basic privilege for the entitled, and the entitled alone.

That such a system of law is unconstitutional in the very extreme hardly needs to be said.

Our founding fathers would turn in their graves did they know of it.

Nor, of course, has this rapidly weakening poet anything approaching the inner resources required even to enquire as to the accurate reality of the law as responded to her query, much less to follow its case all the way to the only court in the land high enough to determine its flagrant violation of every founding American principle.

So we’ll just add it to the unconscionably lengthening list of “inalienable rights” which are in fact utterly, though invisibly, denied to the dispossessed, shall we?

Now — on an individual level, the speed and form of the officers’ response certainly seems to indicate that said complainant not only wished to hide behind the law, but actually went to the trouble and expense of contacting an attorney to make sure of his or her ability to do so before proceeding.

Whether or not our regulations allow a complaint of trespassing to stand under the circumstances described — 

Whether or not our body of laws has indeed devolved into a condition this blatantly and unapologetically preferential to the entitled and crippling to the less so — 

Whether or not the shackles of the Money God, operating in this case under one of his favorite and most insidious honorary titles (“Insurance Contract Mandates”) rendered the decision to apply these laws to this poet inevitable and virtually involuntary on the complainant’s part —

This act was one of craven cowardice of the most entrenched, complacent and habitual stripe, and its enactor is deserving of no respect whatsoever for having succeeded in perpetrating it upon she to whom almost every other comfort, satisfaction and right of American citizenship (still daily enjoyed by him or herself) is denied.

Home of the Brave.

How yesterday is that?

Home of the Coward.


*****
Among us, poets are not paid. The poet/editor of this website, being physically disabled, lives at a fraction of her nation’s poverty level, and is presently homeless. Become a patron of the fine arts at: https://www.gofundme.com/are-you-a-patron-of-the-arts

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