Imagine... a movement inspired by the arts to open the eyes of Americans to the plight of their own people. Imagine, through art, music and poetry, we are shining a much needed light on our own crisis: HOMELESSNESS
Art4TheHomeless was once a blog called Colors of Ink with Blogcharm, which closed down. Nutang, became the new home of Colors of Ink and was renamed Art4TheHomeless, by a really good friend, Samantha Medd. She is now the Co-Founder of Art4TH.
Now Art4TH is a 501(c)(3) Nonprofit Organization that unites artists of all venues to promote homeless awareness in the US.
Art4TH does this through the Art4TH Webzine, a monthly online magazine that features a musician whose music plays throughout the website, a feature artist, and a feature writer while also featuring a homeless relief organization. All artists featured retain their copyrights and all of it is free. If you would like to be a featured artist, musician, or writer contact me at email@example.com
Click here to go to Art4TheHomeless
Art4TH on Facebook
Art4TH Latest Posts
Art4TheHomeless Webzine December 2011
It's been a while
We poured MILLIONS into Haiti and every day we ignore the cries OF OUR OWN PEOPLE!
Meet Robin, a homeless mother
January Art4TH Zine is out!
Happy New Year 2010!
Homeless at Christmas, 1993
Art4TH has been featured in this blog
All, not just some of us, are human. We need to accept that.
Wednesday. 7.29.09 2:28 pm
I was talking with one of the security guards that guard my apartment building the other day. You see, I was confronted by a drug addict who wanted sex while I was on my way to the grocery store. This is why I rant about crackheads.
Anyway the guy grabbed my arm and demanded to know if I had a ring on it. I reacted by jerking away and pulling a punch. I managed not to hit the guy but said in a loud clear voice that if he didn't leave me alone then I would kill him.
I see him all the time begging for money on the streets. He went ahead of me into the store and bought booze. I told the security guard at the store what happened.
Anyway, I was talking to the guard at my apartment and he told me that once you have that first taste of crack, then you were lost.
Having lived on the streets myself and seeing addicts, I have become hateful toward them. They leach from society. Make people feel sorry for them because they are homeless and use the money given to them to get the next high. And people think God is going to bless them for wasting their money. He might since they have good intentions. Who am I to judge?
This is where I sit back and look at myself in a critical light--constructively.
Joe, the guard, pointed out that they were once like me and him and maybe fell on hard times. I saw the human in them--not the lusty men who chase down women and harass them or the women who would do anything for a hit. I saw the human who were once like me--young, ambitious, and dreaming of changing the world.
Thanks, Joe, I needed that.
How can I help the homeless and judge them a the same time? And who am I to judge? I am going to go get a taser with my next paycheck though. These men around will don't bother me much anymore since I am a bit on the crazy side, but the bold ones may get tasered.
I live right by the Atlanta Task Force for the Homeless and usually there are some new faces I see, but for the most part, there are the same guys who live on the streets, deal the drugs, and then there are the usual addicts. A lot of people blame the Task Force for helping them. I can't because the Task Force helped me once--and they have probably helped millions more.
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