August 25, 2026 NICK Nickolas Cruz Dariemax (?) Nick AKA mosh Born & raised in Van Nuys, California, 818 Valley boy W Head Bangin & MOSHEN III IUA Trying to figure out what igzacly I struggle with or.. the truth in that.? Angel My name is Jose but you can call me Angel Im from heaven but my mom gave birth to me. I live wherever I feel like home is Homeless culture. Everyone that is invisible to others… My struggle right now is the city trying to keep us out of sight while I try to create stability while the city takes everything from us ..all at the same time Britney Sanders, Britbrat… My name is BritBrat Im from the Valley and Everywhere I am Belizean I feel like a bad mom. I keep getting fuqed over, what am i doing wrong. I keep putting my trust in places … where it doesn’t belong… Hard Time aka tiny (povertyskola) My name is HARD time CUZ TOO MANY times I only made it out alive cuz I held onto or rhyme I aint from anywhere - neither here nor there - doorways & the backseats of cars in LA, Fresno, Oakland the valley or nowhere Might as well b wite my heart of Black Brown river, sand & sea, palm trees & sand & love & wind. What you can’t see - u can’t really tell who is homeless me … Holding people who like me want to destroyourselves & each other can’t you see? Hazel Henriquez Surviving 5 From Van Nuys “the so called ghetto” Salvadorean, with Lenca Roots. I was another statistic dangerous immigrant child, teen mom didn't finish high school, married young, they call me lazy…of five. They thought I wouldn’t make it. But we indigenous folx are resilient, thriving in my tiny home, raising amazingly kind children. Married for 29 to an amazing man coming together alongside community to build the world we dream of. Giselle My mama & daddy named me Giselle; meaning vow or pledge. But I like when you call me Gelly. NO it’s not spelled with a “J” but a G for the GODDESS in me. I’m a SoCal native, a valley girl to be exact. I have no origins. The world is my home, whether these transparent aliens know it or not. My ancestors are my guiding light, my moral compass, my way through these slippery roads. LooKed down because of my skin. Hated for my beauty, And judged & beaten for my knowledge. And they call us savages. But I am the strongest. I am a GOD/GELLY/GISELLE. So I win.. I pledge a vow to stay a GOD!! Paisley Paisley, my name a gift from my mother. Born on the west side – so-called “ghetto” side of O’ahu. Islanders priced out of the islands. Chased the Hollywood dream Off of student loan schemes. All hundred thousands of dollaras and degrees But the lie of rent and the life of a gentrifier was a poison not made for me. So I sought refuge in an RV. Raised by two kids escaping poverty thru stripping first then thru the military. My grandmas Indigenous to the Philippines. Grandfathers Greek and English - passing on white supremacy, abandonment and rape through our bloodlines. I live between the worlds of gender perceived. Are you a boy or a girl? I live between the worlds of poverty and privilege Generational poverty and trauma, Clawing our ways out Slammed doors and slapped faces. Learning from an early age Police only make violence worse. Martha Mi nombre es Martha. Yo soy de El Salvador y vivo en Van Nuys. Mi cultura es muy bonita mis ancestros, son pipiles y lencas y mi gente, es muy Bonita muy AMable, nos gusta Bailan Cumbia, nos gustan los colores Encendidos, nos gusta mucho salir en las tardecitas a dar la vuelta y comos antojitos. Lo más duro para mi vida fue la pérdida de mi nieto, fue terrible. Y aun no la supero y ultimate, a mi hermana le dio un derrame cerebral y pensé que iba a morir. English (Martha ) My name is Martha. I'm from El Salvador and I live in Van Nuys. My culture is beautiful. My ancestors are Pipil and Lenca, and my people are very kind and friendly. We like to dance Cumbia, we like bright colors, and we love going out in the late afternoons for a stroll and eating snacks. The hardest thing in my life was the loss of my grandson; it was terrible. I still haven't gotten over it, and then my sister had a stroke, and I thought she was going to die.

Illustration by maulana ahmad on Unsplash RAGE Paisley To every demon with a badge, To every bulldozer who calls me trash. To the politicians who try to Legislate us away To the neighbors who curse and harass And complain. To the journalists in print and on TV Who pretend they know what it’s like to be me. Who promote hateful lies and Calls to lock us away. To the non-profiteers using our bodies to make bank. To the ones with their heads Gleefully in the sand Stepping over our bodies On their way to go dance. To the white “founding fathers” who Emblazoned this trap. To the self-driving cars and delivery apps. To every endless screen and agent draining These lands. I pray with my rage For these ways to collapse. Gelly Am I mad or nah? What kind of fucking question is that? My answer: Of fucking course I am! I swear I just want to tear everything apart Where is the dynamite at so I can demo some shit. I want to break it Break it Break it! I’m raging and waging that my acts at Kindness is working Working Working To fix this fucked up ass system. So I keep pushing forward with kindness, a smile On my face, serving the people. This how I rage, You should join me! ANONYMOUS I can’t do rage RESISTANCE Paisley We move together, without fear To break the chains that bind us. A hug during a sweep. Gelly Pointing the finger and giving the finer; An act of resistance - I believe in both Shouting “No, THAT’S NOT OK/RIGHT”, an Act of resistance - also something I believe in. Conquering Fears is an act of resistance - something we should practice more often. Resist the coward within so we can be brave in this crazy world.

The following stories were written by Povertyskolaz living on "The Lot" at Laney College and were based on this prompt: Crisis is universal - we have all had it. Please briefly describe one of your worst crisis below - financial, family, self, health, etc. By H a youth poverty skola from Laney Lot, 11 If they close the Laney Lot, I would feel sad because we have nowhere else to go. By John Shurn The first crisis is when my granny of 90 years passed away. What she gave to us changed me forever but her passing was a blessing in disguise because all the morals that she had instilled in me, I instilled in the youth and the youth will instill into the world. We win again! By Anonymous Being broke not having money for food. By Star (Amanda) One of the worst crisis that I have been faced with was in 2018 when I was diagnosed with epilepsy (seizures) and cancer (with a tumor in the back of my head). Besides being sick and convulsing 5 to 6 times a day, I became unable to work and lost a job I loved that led to me being able to support myself. With no work and still to this being told no on disability I became homeless and have yet to be able to get back on my feet. By Marlin Darris My mom died while I was locked up, and it was hard for me to go see her grave until four years I was out. By Sara Kelly “Lot Leader” Dec. 6, 2023, the day I finally left my babydaddy's and his family’s house with nothing but the clothes on my back, not even my kids. Took me 3 months to get them back. By J Javier N. My first crisis was going to jail right after me and family got evicted. That triggered a series of multiple events that made my life spiral downward. I lost motivation to do everything for myself to get out of that rut I’m still in. It’s been so difficult to adapt to everything the rise in homelessness has made it so difficult to change my lifestyle. I've constantly made bad decisions for myself and that affects my family. I feel like I need to ask for help but my image I give off don’t allow me to do that. I guess my ego won’t allow me but: I do need help and in learning to put my ego aside and allow myself to ask for help without shaming myself. Today I still struggle but I’m learning to be a better person. There is a lot of help that is out there we just need to ask. By Tim I severed my intestines and waited 18 days to go to hospital and wound up with a colostomy bag for 2 ½ years. By Chance William Hebbring My first crisis was when my mom passed away when I was 8 years old. With me next to her laying in the same bed. My second is when my stepmom kills herself by taking a handful of pills. I was 12 or 13 then because she died, we couldn't afford where we were living and that was the start of my homelessness streak for a long while. By Anonymous Since the age of 7 crisis has been unfortunately part of my life. I can’t pick one event that's worse. They all have a different style. By Tiffany Movrich My housing issue now that it’s illegal to be homeless. I don’t want to go to jail just for living in my RV. By Lindsey I was 14 years old and me and my best friend were kidnapped and taken to the Skyline hills and were both raped and beaten and afterwards told not to tell anyone cause they knew where we went to school and they would come and kill us. By Horton Timothy Being shot By S. Carson I graduated Delancey Street Foundation in 2010 after 5 years. I was in recovery going strong working out hours weekly as the driver supervisor/trainer for City of SF after 6 ½ years a City (?) I was making $28.50 an hour 60+ hours a week, 2 cars, a motorcycle and a 4 bedroom 3 bathroom home in Antioch. I was a single father as well. In the summer of 2016 my only son was killed by a drunk driver while visiting his grandparents on his mom’s side in Montana. Everything fell apart after that, I started using again. Every time I went home I saw my son everywhere so I stopped going home. One missed step led to the next, to the next and here I am.

Sonya Massey 09/28/26 Sean Grayson was sentenced to 20 years in prison for shooting Sonya Massey in her face on July 6, 2024 after she called 911 because of a possible intruder outside her home. Grayson, 32 years old allegedly was diagnosed with stage 3 colon cancer just one year before killing Sonya Massey. Charged with first degree murder but convicted of second degree murder after jurors found some sympathy after Grayson expressed in court that he was scared Sonya Massey would throw hot water on him. Sean Grayson had moved through several law enforcement agencies before he arrived at Sangamon County Sheriff's department. Why was he even able to work as a deputy after being diagnosed with stage 3 colon cancer? Or was this another secret Pardon by Trump? How convenient for Sean Grayson to suddenly die in prison just months into his “20” year maximum sentence. Did he really die in Prison of cancer, or is he with Epstein and other killers on a secret island? Grayson was recently denied a request for early medical release under Illinois law for prisoners with terminal illnesses or serious medical conditions. In late August 2026, just days after he was denied this request for medical release, Grayson was pronounced dead “in custody”. Grayson's attorney refused to comment after announcing his death. The other deputy present the night of the murder, Dawson Farley, who responded to the call that night with Grayson, is still on duty after testifying at trial that he did not see Sonya Massey as a threat, and only pulled his gun out after he saw that Grayson drew his pistol. Justice for Sonya Massey! Gera, Kop watch Aztlan

By Cattrell “Some people might refer to me and my poor magazine family as the cockroaches in any city, we are the poor and houseless people, the trash they want to sweep up, the cockroach movement of so-called california … “ said tiny, POOR Magazine. The story includes corrupt commisioners, police beatings, and mistreatment of the youth of India who are human, like myself, who are unemployed and are struggling badly with getting any help from their own government. They are protesting for change and transparency in their education system and to expose corruption. The youth rose up against the corruption leaks in 2024, but from that day onward so much has happened. That was the beginning of the cockroach protest that was held in Mumbai, India My opinion from what I read about the cockroach protest is that our so-called government also treats us like cockroaches – like tiny says we are the cockroach peoples here. From everything I read and how it connects with me, when it comes to protesting and dealing with police brutality, I feel the impact all the way from India to here.

Samuel Gonzalez Terrones (English Translation Below) Por Maria Fecha a lunes 5 de octubre 2026 este tema es inevitable por diferentes cuestiones. Así como ese caso y muchos más han sido muy importantes a nivel mundial. Como esto que sucedió con el joven Samuel Gonzalez Terrones. Sobre los abusos ICE, cuando se detiene a una persona que es muy importante para uno, como la mamá de este muchacho, entra la desesperación y se altera el nervio personal, sobre todo cuando uno está en un tratamiento y terapias. Este caso ocurrió en San Bernardino. Lamentablemente, se quitó la vida Samuel, y no podemos hacer absolutamente nada para estos hechos. En esto así como otros casos, ICE prosiguen día a día continuan con sus abusos Lamentablemente, cuando las personas estamos más solas ese tipo de problemas pueden suceder. Por eso, cuida de la propia familia. También estas situaciones da depresion, ansiedad o esquizofrenia; son cosas muy fuertes y un gran problema. Llevando actualmente más de 10 personas se an quitado la vida. Yo he tenido este tipo de experiencia con una gran amiga llamada Juanita de México. Esta mujer también tuvo algunos tipos de síntomas de Samuel. Se quitó la vida debido a todo lo que yo anuncie: esquizofrenia, ansiedad, depresión y problemas mentales. Cuando a ella en frontera méxico y estabamos ya apunto de pasar, ella vio que venia migracion y decidio quitarse la vida. Fue un acontecimiento muy fuerte para mi y otras personas que venían conmigo. Y ella con su desesperación y yo con mis lagrimas triste por que tuvo que hacer eso. Me preguntaba en eso nos despartamos y hasta, hoy en día, no se nada de ese caso, y yo. Asi se ha quedado hasta la fecha, muchos abusos siguen y muchos siguen sin hacer nada. MN By Maria Today is October 5th and this issue is inevitable for different reasons. This case, like many others, has been very important worldwide. This is about what happened with the youth Samuel Gonzales Terrones. About the abuses of ICE, when they detain a person who is very important to someone, like the mother of this boy, it causes desperation and alters your nervous system, especially when that someone is in treatment and therapy. This case occurred in San Bernadino. Sadly, Samuel ended his life and we can do absolutely nothing to change these facts. In this case, like the others, ICE continues day after day to commit abuse. Mournfully, when we are most alone, these horrors can happen. Care for your own family too, as depression, anxiety, or schizophrenia are strong and serious problems. In truth, I carry with me more than ten people who left this life. I have had these kinds of experiences. I had a close friend named Juanita in Mexico. She was a woman with similar types of symptoms as Samuel. She left this life due to everything I described, schizophrenia, anxiety, depression, and mental health problems. She was on the Mexican side of the border and we were about to cross, when she saw immigration coming. She decided to leave this life. This moment was strong and intense for me, and others who came with me. Her, with her desperation, and me, with my sorrow and regret. Why did she have to do that? I asked. This is how we began the next day. And to this day, no one knows anything about this, not me either. The group grieved. And it stayed like this, until now, the abuses continue and continue when we have done nothing.

Illustration by Public domain vectors on Unsplash English Translation Below Tu derecho a noticias verdaderas Querida señora: Tienes derecho a saber qué ocurre en el mundo, en tu país, en tu estado y en tu comunidad. Sin embargo, algunos medios informativos ponen sus intereses económicos por encima de la verdad y dejan de lado nuestras vidas, nuestras experiencias y nuestras voces. En las redes sociales también circulan noticias que se comparten sin investigar ni comprobar la confiabilidad de sus fuentes. A mí, Chispita, periodista de Prensa Pobre, sí me interesa que tengas acceso a información veraz. Por eso te invito a visitar nuestra página, Poor Magazine, donde mis compañeros y yo contamos nuestras historias y compartimos las realidades de nuestras comunidades. Somos personas indígenas, personas sin hogar, trabajadores, vendedores callejeros y estudiantes de periodismo. Narramos lo que vivimos y, con mucho tesón, investigamos lo que ocurre en este país y en el mundo. Damos espacio a las voces de personas pobres, madres de niños que sufren explotación y mujeres que han vivido violencia. Nuestras experiencias también merecen ser escuchadas. Querida señora, te invito a evaluar lo que lees, contrastar las fuentes y comprender los hechos antes de compartir una noticia. Tu experiencia y tu voz también cuentan. ¿Por qué no escribir sobre lo que sucede en tu barrio, en tu comunidad o en tu región? Defiéndete de las noticias falsas. Pregunta, investiga y comparte información que puedas verificar. Cuenta tu historia y ayuda a que las experiencias de tu comunidad sean conocidas. Por favor, no difundas noticias falsas entre quienes te rodean, especialmente entre tus hijos pequeños, a quienes tanto amas. Cuidarlos también significa cuidar la información que les transmites. Empieza por informarte y comprobar los hechos antes de hacerlos llegar a otras personas. Tú, que eres un pilar de la sociedad, puedes contribuir a un periodismo que respete nuestras vidas, escuche nuestras voces y se comprometa con la verdad. Chispita Periodista de Prensa Pobre / Poor Magazine INGLES Your Right to Truthful News Dear Madam, You have the right to know what is happening in the world, in your country, in your state, and in your community. However, some news outlets place their financial interests above the truth and disregard our lives, our experiences, and our voices. On social media, news also circulates without anyone investigating it or checking the reliability of its sources. As Chispita, a journalist with Prensa Pobre, I care about your access to accurate information. That is why I invite you to visit our website, Poor Magazine, where my colleagues and I tell our stories and share the realities of our communities. We are Indigenous people, people experiencing homelessness, workers, street vendors, and journalism students. We describe what we experience and, with determination, investigate what is happening in this country and around the world. We make room for the voices of people living in poverty, mothers whose children suffer exploitation, and women who have experienced violence. Our experiences deserve to be heard, too. Dear Madam, I invite you to evaluate what you read, cross-check sources, and understand the facts before sharing a news story. Your experience and your voice matter, too. Why not write about what is happening in your neighborhood, your community, or your region? Protect yourself from false news. Ask questions, investigate, and share information you can verify. Tell your story and help others learn about your community’s experiences. Please do not spread false news among those around you, especially your young children, whom you love so dearly. Caring for them also means taking care with the information you pass on to them. Begin by informing yourself and checking the facts before sharing them with others. As a pillar of society, you can contribute to journalism that respects our lives, listens to our voices, and remains committed to the truth. Chispita Journalist, Prensa Pobre / Poor Magazine

Photo by Cecilie Bomstad on Unsplash The following poems were written on August 26th, 2026, by houseless and formerly houseless folks attending the Survival Poetry workshop. Poem prompt: Describe a time in your life when you were so cold or so hot you couldn’t breathe (describe details about the feeling in your bones/lungs/skin-and why...because you were houseless/outside/had no money for heat or air conditioner) Leroy How you survived-what did you tell yourself Brought back memories that hard knock three times ... my blood and ... 911 the same time. Then the shouting, “Where’s your niece + are you drunk?” My body was the North pole and a desert all at the same time. Gelly Balled up in a fetal position next to my dog to try and stay as warm as I could. Laying in a caved in tent with the wind blowing across my drenched skin. Clothes soaked seeming to keep the cold close to my chest Tears streaming from my eyes adding to my stress I .CAN. NOT. BREATHE!! Got caught in a storm Thought I was ready! I was wrong. Living outside for as long as I have I Believed I was prepared. But No! With wind whipping madly in all directions The rain falling of the sky like waterfalls And the earth soaking me up along with the water Help, help, help Please help! Paisley HOT HOW DID YOU SURVIVE? Endless summer when the sun is gone It’s sleeping but I’m wide awake choking On the night air Thick as molasses. Skin sticking to everything - Like my body wants to be a part of the street. This blanket is suffocating And my insides boil Into a low, constant rage ready to overflow. Any small match strike threatens to trigger inferno. I must fight my mind with any dark humor I can find. I am a lizard searching for relief Slinking down the pavement Looking for a place to hang my hammock And dream of home. Of swing by the waterside But the sweat on my tongue stings, Salt drips from my lips. In an endless desert Clinging for oasis. Maybe open all the windows Maybe stay inside 7 - Eleven pretending to think about buying The cold drinks as an excuse to stand in the fridge. May I switch places with the bags of melting ice For the night. Until the day breaks - But wait, Oh no, It’s even hotter. ANONYMOUS Surge protectors Sado masochists Are lovers With rubber Suits & holes For ... I tried To plug My Hand into one To get warn But my surging Lover Rejected me With an Electrical current Our love affair It started at a bus Stop When I was Sleeping Used the Bus shelter My bed Was the plastic My surging Lover

“Sweeps Survivors” is a Collaborative *WeSearch Project of POOR Magazine and Aetna Street Solidarity. These WeSearch findings were offered and gathered on Tovaangar/Tatavian Lands aka Los Angeles/San Fernando Valley in September/October 2026. So many deaths From the perp called swept Swept and swept and swept to death From East LA to West til we have nothing left No belongings, no homes, no tents, no cars, no phones They even swept our hope… excerpt from Swept to Death by tiny aka povertyskola WeSearch Questions 1) What is your homeless origin HISstory/HERstory? 2) What is your experience with sweeps? Joseph Everett I first became homeless when my mom was alive and my house got raised because of my stepdad at the time. We weren’t allowed to go back and we didn’t have much family. My tia let me and my mom stay for a bit until I guess she had enough. She then kicked us out in the middle of the night when we had nowhere to go. For a while we were okay until I started doing drugs. My brother let my mother stay with him but not me. Just recently my mother passed away so my brother started being silent. I stayed in a wash with good friends- they took everything and just cuz I stepped out I wasn’t allowed to go back in my spot to grab my personal items. Gera Got evicted for being 2 months late on rent that was constantly being raised. The type of sweep I faced was when my mom’s trailer home got towed during the pandemic. I was staying with her in Modesto at the time and we lost all our belongings. PQ My mom passed away & so I had nowhere to go, also I had problems with my girl. I was using drugs so I hit the streets I moved into the compound (Oxnard St by the 405 freeway). I was there for over a year then on July the police & the mayor came & put all of us on buses & put us in hotels they scattered and some were sent to Canoga, Sun Valley, North Hills & so we been housed at the Budget Inn hotel for a lil over a year waiting to be housed but now they aren’t housing us with just GR now we have to have a job to get housed that’s the new thing. I lost all of the personal stuff, clothes, personal items. They only let us carry 1 bag which was barely a couple items so we had to start all over. This also happened on Bessemer Street last month only this time they followed us to take everything. Hazel My mother, brother and I had to migrate from El Salvador where we had a house that was paid off. Came to LA and lived in a room or various living rooms. I don’t know if this is being houseless but to me it was scary as a child to not have stable housing. I didn’t personally but have helped my neighbors. It is heartbreaking. Wilbur “Gio” Valencia I had a job…I had car…I had a family…but covid pandemic hit us, at that time I had a relapse. I had 7 years clean…I relapsed and my job, my car, my family was gone. It’s been 4 years since I was forced out of my apartment. On one of the sweeps where we were on Haskell and the rail tracks they did a sweep, I lost clothes, personal items even my tent because they told us take only what you can carry. And I feel we were targeted because of Budweiser complaining of us the homeless. Angel Monteon I first became homeless when I had decided to move out here to LA from my old town. I came in hopes of a better opportunity. Yes I’ve dealt with a sweep and they took everything that I had even my clothes they even tried to take my backpack I even had on. Muteando Silencio The first time I became homeless is when my family was forced to leave our homeland Michocan, Mexico due to domestic violence. I came from a big family of 12 siblings, my parents are from Guerreo, Mexico, my father struggled with alcohol addiction, he was really violent when he was intoxicated he would beat up my mom in front of us, I was 6 years old, I remember running out the front door to seek for help to our neighbor Doña Goya. I remember feel broken the day we left Michocan. Paisley In 2020, I lived in an apartment off of student loan money and I didn’t lose my job managing facilities at a company working in advertising (unclogging toilets and getting yelled at by middle-aged British men for not getting them their lunch on time). But the office closed for COVID so I had time to think and realize how many more and more would not be able to afford rent. So, I stopped paying mine. I went on rent strike. By 2021, as the world forcibly “reopened,” I recognized I could not return to paying rent and was able to get a loan to get my RV home. I have dealt with countless sweeps. In those I have lost home. I have lost my favourite trench coat–that could keep you warm on the coldest night. I have lost friends and their memorials. I have lost stability in the aftermath of sweeps’ violence because the trauma doesn’t disappear when cops and sanitation do, it moves through us into each other: RV break-ins and breakdowns, fights breaking out around me. Also, my car got towed. Tiny “You have 5 minutes to leave… BEEEP BEEEEP” Not sure if I ever actually slept but they were here. Again. A strange collection of armed robots. Their weapons; shovels, trash cans, rakes, and guns. The cops didn't used to accompany this army but now they did. Ready with zip ties and shackles to arrest us. For sleeping. BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEEP The incessant and non-stop beeping was like a nail being slowly pounded into the side of my head. We couldn't figure out what to leave or bring. Mama had already lost her insulin and her walker yesterday in another sweep and I’m not sure what hoops we would have to go through to get those replaced. I lost my Aunti’s urn with her ashes and the only picture I had left of my brother , not to mention my school ID, and my last dry blanket. I’m numb from the loss. I guess that's their point, to destroy our spirits. I had one warm jacket and some underwear and my lotion. I could barely feel my hands in this cold anyway. I think I have one more plastic bag somewhere….Mama aint moving at all now. BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP Why can’t I open this fuckin hefty bag? OMIGOD They can’t see me struggling, my broken fingertips can’t separate the opening - - the shiny black/brown plastic shimmers in the moonlit sky and slides through my moist fingers -what is it 4am? I need both hands for this but I can’t put down my other bag cause they will take it. It's got all the rest of mama’s medicine. *WeSearch is a concept created by @povertyskola at POOR Magazine to describe poor people-led research created in, from and by houseless and poor ComeUnities across occupied Turtle Island

This clip of Poor Peoples Radio podcast features a conversation with Jessica from the Berkeley Homeless Union, ally of houseless folks, Robbie Powelson, and former council member, Cheryl Davila, on the topic of the recent sweeps on Harrison Street in so-called Berkeley. The news media are spreading a false narrative that the deaths from leptospirosis were connected to the Harrison Street encampment when the deaths actually took place in an RV about an mile away. To see the whole episode click here. Poor Peoples Radio podcast is a media access project of Poor Magazine broadcast on PNN-KEXU 96.1fm - “the crossroads” - dedicated to providing media access to poor & houseless reporters from across Mama Earth, as well as stories of indigenous, poor/houseless/Black/Brown resistance to state terror and violence. PNN-KEXU 96.1fm is a low power station broadcasting from a humble studio built by houseless founders of POOR Magazine on the sacred land us houseless peoples call HOMEfulness. Tap the button above to visit and subscribe to our YouTube channel. Want notifications when we go live? Make sure to set your notifications to All, like in the picture above.

This clip of Poor Peoples Radio podcast features a conversation with Kay, who had a tiny home in West Oakland. The tiny home and one other were both destroyed by the city during the violent sweeps they carried out on Peralta and Fifth Streets. Kay's tiny home and one other, which was also destroyed, were built by students at Oakland School of the Art to provide housing to houseless mamas. Hear more of Kay's story by following the link below. To see the whole episode click here. Poor Peoples Radio podcast is a media access project of Poor Magazine broadcast on PNN-KEXU 96.1fm - “the crossroads” - dedicated to providing media access to poor & houseless reporters from across Mama Earth, as well as stories of indigenous, poor/houseless/Black/Brown resistance to state terror and violence. PNN-KEXU 96.1fm is a low power station broadcasting from a humble studio built by houseless founders of POOR Magazine on the sacred land us houseless peoples call HOMEfulness. Tap the button above to visit and subscribe to our YouTube channel. Want notifications when we go live? Make sure to set your notifications to All, like in the picture above.

By Momii Palapaz “Look over there, no no over there, at the crowd of worn out looking, crouched and shabbily dressed. Don’t say people, it’s them”. Don't look right here and everywhere violence is applied with invasions to acquire mother earth. Last week The SF Chron front page photo showed mass interest in street sales of hygiene supplies, clothes, hardware, jewelry, and anything associated with survival. The photo is grossly high contrast, looks scary, dark of night. It’s a look over there at those dirty people selling goods from CVS, or a local grocery store, or from someone’s personal belongings. #4 Yelamu Homefulness Newsroom & Lunch Vendors selling hot food at 16th & Mission St. Belly of the Beast capitalism multiplies itself while their fingers are pointing at who is worthy of selling, buying and bargaining. In high finance, behind closed doors, trillionaires decide who to eliminate, accumulate, denigrate and profit from. Politicians make deals the same way, throughout a workday, benefiting a few and themselves. Then they encourage others to continue that corrupted practice. The unhoused community and poor transact for daily survival. What you see on the street is the reality of life that you are barred from witnessing in skyscrapers, deals and the hand shaking for the photo ops worldwide. When you sell yourself or your day to day needs, isn’t that a red flag for help? When you see people on the street laid out at 2PM, isn’t that a red flag for help? And when you read and watch the news on tv or hear on the radio, yet again a person's RV being stolen by the city, their own property, isn’t that a big red banner saying help? When the law calls the unhoused community criminals, aren't they shielding their own criminality? Because they are at the same time, doing what they are criticizing. They are simultaneously pointing their finger at the unhoused to distract you and suck you, the public, to join a band wagon of haters. It’s a flag waving hater nation, onward with their Christian soldiers with a war on the poor. At the Laney College Board mtg. I mentioned on radio KEXU 96.1 FM a few weeks ago, I noticed with disgust the procedure of moving around the agenda items. They do this all for a theatre power show. The front page news reports blistering complaints toward the unhoused, but when it comes to actually confronting the emergencies of life, it gets moved down the list of agenda items. It’s conscious and cruel. Pizza slice of liberated land on Yelamu, Mission and Cesar Chavez If you are disgusted with the scenes of people living on the streets, don’t look away, don’t shake your head and walk on, come to POOR MAGAZINE’s website, find out how you can leave fear behind, wrong notions, and find intelligent, committed unhoused and previously unhoused men, women, and children working with love and compassion. We have solutions that involve revolutionary care to fight despair and madness.