Open Letter to Politicians

This is a poem in a form called a sestina I tried my best so enjoy!!


You never listen to our voice.
You stick to your agenda regardless
of how we think or how we feel.
We want justice. We want to know.
We want our voices heard
from sea to shining sea.

We are caught in the middle, don’t you see?
You do, but you mute our voice
so you can say what we said wasn’t heard.
No matter what you ignore us, regardless
of what we say. If we say yes, you say no.
You get your way, but never ask how we feel.

We feel betrayed, lied to cheated, we feel
you are all Crooked with a capital C.
You tell us what you want us to know,
over powering our thoughts with your voice.
We claim to want change, but regardless
we just remain a sheep; part of the herd.

But I won’t be a sheep, I want to be heard!
I want you to know my anger: how I feel.
You can try to silence me, but regardless
you will hear me. From sea to shining sea,
you will read my words and hear my voice.
When I’m done my name you will know.

When you say yes, I will scream NO!
You say sit, I will stand up and be heard
You say shut up I will raise my voice.
My words will make you feel
my frustration, and make you see
that I will not go away regardless

of how much you want me to. Regardless
of how tired I am. I need to know
that the injustice which I see.
can be changed by the herd.
You will know my pain and how I feel.
You will know my fucking voice.

Ah, yes you will know my voice
regardless of how that makes you feel.
From sea to shining sea, I will be heard.

Thanks

Thanksgiving is approaching faster than Usain Bolt and I couldn’t be more excited!

This late fall holiday marks my favorite holiday, not because it’s a celebration of a joint feast between the pilgrims and people who they soon killed off, forcing the survivors to live on “reservations”, or third world countries within our own boarders. . . that’s a different story. Mass genocide of native people aside, this is my favorite holiday because it brings together my family; the most important people in my life. The only ones who I know will be there for me regardless of what stupid shit I do.  

People use Thanksgiving to tell what they are thankful for; so I am going to use this post to do just that.

First off, obviously, I am thankful for my family. I love them; they have been with me throughout the ups and downs. When I was at my lowest they (plus Yesabel who is like a family member) were there for me. I was facing an existence which I may not have survived; I could have spent years of my life trapped in a box. I fought through that and became a better person, they never once shunned me or judged me. They supported me, though I did get the occasional ripping which is expected for my siblings. For that I love them, because without them I could have let the situation consume my every day, but I kept my head up, and for that I am thankful.

I am thankful for my friends. I only have maybe 5 true friends outside of my family, and you know who you are. You are awesome. You support my writing when I doubt myself. You keep me going. You keep me confident.  On a sad note, I recently stopped talking to my best friend. Shit is odd; we had been friends since 6^th grade. We stopped talking because his girlfriend is a selfish, dim-witted, unintelligent, unattractive and unappreciative individual and I told her so.  I spoke what everyone thinks about her and what he doesn’t see, and he took her side, I’m not mad, but I think he is blind. But for those who I still have, I hope our friendships keep growing and become stronger. If not, oh well, I always say that I could never be lonely when I have myself and that holds true. That does not make me any less thankful for you guys. I love you guys.  You help me continue to grow and change as a person and I look forward to continuing to grow with you.

I am thankful for my talent. I write: that’s what I do. Am I great? No, not even close. I will never be famous because of my words; I just don’t have that much talent. But what I have is a creative drive, and I am thankful for that. I want to be the best writer I can be, I want to read my own words and be proud that they came from my mind. I have a few people to thank for this talent: first my parents for boning and giving birth to me. Next, Professor Mary Thompson who helped me discover my passion again. I wish I could show her how much she actually helped me, I think it is because of her I decided to become an English major, she put the pen back in my hand after my shit brick of a English teacher, Garrett Boatman, all but destroyed my love for words. A BIG FUCK YOU TO GARRETT BOATMAN: I hope you have been fired so you can no longer kill people’s dreams.  Also Yesabel, you have been my most supportive fan and critic. You helped me focus and create, you rock. You support me when I hate my writing. I am thankful for all the other writers I have met during my time at MSU who keep me wanting to reach a new level; you guys keep me motivated by just writing. Keep going! I know we will all do something great with our words!  One last thanks on this subject goes to Professor Dale Burg. You are crazy, but you believe in me and you try to knock proper grammar rules in my head, I am slowly getting it. You could have given up, but you have recognized my talent and want me to be great. 

I am thankful for a lot of things, but these are the main ones.  I wish I could repay all of the people above with something outside of saying thanks, but that’s all I can do. I just hope this is enough to show how much I appreciate you all.

Haikuesday

I was recently inspired to attempt writing Haiku. This inspiration came from my extremely talented friend Alyssa, (you can click on her blog and enjoy someone far more talented than the person you are reading now), and my favorite writer Richard Wright. Today is haikuesday, apparently, so enjoy my first ever attempts at these little Japanese poems.


Falling

Red leaves fall to earth.
Raked into piles, bagged, and dumped:
Beauty Forgotten.

Library

Knowledge lines the shelves
untouched, unread—dust covered.
God damn you Google!

DWI

Lights flash in the night.
Stumbling in the darkness,
Steel bars end my day.

NBA

The ball once bounced high,
but the ball bounces no more;
Deflated by greed.

Bashful

The fox trots away
hiding deep in the high grass.
Fox, come out to play!

Awake

The cute grey kitten
bounds and bounces on the bed
Stop I'm sleeping!!

Bowel Trouble

Grey cat eats a shoe
laces, tongue, sole: ate it all.
Grey cat can't poo.

Grey Gas

That grey cat farted!
Said it wasn't from her behind;
she tried to blame me.

Omnipresent

A dove flies to the heavens

An angel is born,
flying high as a dove;
watching over the ones they love.
Nothing can replace what is lost.
Nothing can replace who you are,
the way you changed
everyone you touched,
everyday you met.

A dove flies past the heavens,
yet will never leave.

February 30th

My heartbeat and your name

were once the same,

now it’s just a thud like all the rest

Love once flowed in me,

Love for you and all you are;

Love for us.

Now loneliness takes love's place

My heart stands alone;

cold as the first snow hitting my cheek

frozen like a January lake,

to thaw again the thirtieth of February

Death in a Hotel

I wrote this as a companion poem with Death Hotel. This is from the woman's point of view, it is in a form that my professor taught in class, since i never write in, or know any, forms I gave it a shot. Enjoy

I am trapped and my heart is his.

His blue eyes drew me in

and with a smile I was his.

In his arms I feel utter bliss

showing his love is genuine,

I want to be trapped, my heart to be his.

Despite our many differences

of looks, of class; our love will never ruin

because with a smile I am his.

His hotel is an endless abyss

room to room, he whispers— Catharine.

Trapped because my heart remains his.

I enter a vault, and with a kiss on the lips

he leaves me. The door locks and I remain within.

Leaving me with a smile; I am his.

I scream, I yell, I whisper— only silent responses.

Doctor Holmes, what did I do to offend?

I am trapped. My heart is his

taken with a smile. I am forever his.

Bro-Codology Volume 2

Hello beautiful people and you ug-mos too —I don't want to discriminate— welcome to the second installment of Bro-Codology, where I delve deep into the mind of man and deep into the history books to bring you the laws of the bro. Laws which all brothers and friends must follow. Failure to do so will lead a public flogging in Times Square. If you have not read Volume one please do so, or I will personally come to your home and burn it down like my name was Left Eye.

Law 4- A bro in need is a bro indeed

If your Bro calls you and needs your help right away you must go to him, because he would do the same for you. It doesn't matter what you're doing or who you're doing, you drop that shit like your name was Terrell Owens and help your buddy out. If you're watching your children, don't actually drop them— that's how brain damage occurs. If you ARE watching your dumb kids you still must respond to the Bro-mergency, sit your kid down in the car and go. Duct tape works well for this, so get a roll and secure that baby.... on second thought use a car seat. If cops pull you over I think they may frown upon taped babies, there are all these odd laws regarding child abuse, this may constitute “abuse”, but I am not a lawyer, so you may want to check with one to find out for sure.  I guess you wouldn't tape down your beer, so why do it to a baby?

Ok, went a little off track, so back to the rule. Basically help him out in his time of need; this could be something small like a lift home from the bar or if he needs your help in disposing of his wife's body. I suppose she would be his ex-wife now, or would he still technically be married until her body is found? If he pretends to be upset, wears his wedding ring, gets a tattoo in her honor and no one knows about his Russian mistress I guess in the view of the world they are still married. Actually, she is dead he is a widow; that was a silly thought of mine. Either way in due time he will get caught and will be the wife/property of a massive bald Neo-Nazi named Shep who will destroy his tootsie roll until it looks like it sat in the sun for months.

Wait just one second, where was I?

Now this rule has been touched upon by many outlets. The late great Big L even referenced it on his classic song "Casualties of a Dice Game". For those who know the song please skip following paragraph.

Now in this song Big L just won big at a local dice game (I think Ashy Larry was present at the game). The other rollers were very upset so they set out to kill Mr. L. They were following him so L Called up his friend Bones and asked him for assistance. His buddy said he couldn't help because he was upstairs getting it in. Big L was forced to deal with his newly acquired enemies all by himself. He disposed of those two hooligans, but he was severely hurt in the altercation. This would not of happened if that Lazy Bones* (let us see if anyone gets that reference) just helped his brother in need. Long story shortened, Big L killed Bones and beat the whore he was with as if Big was actually the Sham-Wow guy; sadly L died because of his injuries.

That is an extreme case of not helping your Bro when he requires assistance. In most of the cases death isn’t the result, but keep that in your mind next time your friend needs help and you deny him. As with all the rules there is a historical background that led to the development of the rule. Rule 4 is no different, so let us hop into our phone booth and visit a couple prominent historical figures, shall we?

The year was 1939; a year of extreme historical importance in the Eastern hemisphere, a year where a woman named Ethyl gave birth to a man who decades later would provide a market for televised paternity tests*; a year in which the inventor of basketball (a white relatively short man… oh how the game has changed) took his final free throw; a summer where the Wizard of Oz had amazed American audiences, but on the other side of the pond, something more sinister than a hanging midget was brewing— something deadlier and not has funny. A cloud darker than Wesley Snipes was beginning to form over Eastern Europe; A Jew killing tyrannical cloud known as the Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterparte¸this cloud was fueled by a Charlie Chaplin look alike. 

Now, the world knew that the German Führer was up to something, he wanted revenge for the wrongs he felt that were suffered by the German people after WWI . . . also he wanted to kill all of the people of  Jewish faith, but that is off topic. Now his plans were to invade Poland and Edward Rydz-Śmigły, the General Inspector of Armed Forces (the highest Polish military position) knew that this day would be coming. Rydz-Śmigły prepped by mobilizing the Polish military on August 30 to prepare for the invasion, while the pussyfooted French tried to tell him to back down in hopes of a diplomatic solution— meanwhile Hitler’s troops were already ready for invasion along the Germany-Poland border. The French should be involved in anything military like a cat should get involved in a kangaroo boxing match; it just makes no sense stick to the pastries you beret wearing douches.

            Rydz-Śmigły, knew that he had an ally in Great Britain, so he figured he would give Neville Chamberlain a ring on the telephone:

“Good evening, Prime Minister.”

“Who the bloody hell is this?”

“This is  Edward Rydz-Śmigły, General Inspector of Armed Forces of Poland!”

“Say Eddie, does that last name come in English?”

“Sir, I am calling you for my great nation of Poland is about to be attacked by Germany. I would like the support of the British military in order to maintain my country’s sovereignty.”

“Is this a joke? Williams is this you?”

“Sir, I assure you this is no joke. We have met on several occasions.”

“Tell you what my good chap, I will help later Charlie Chaplin won't invade just yet, I’ll have my people call you. Now I must attend tea, for it is customary. Cheers Eddie.”

            On September 1^st Germany initiated the invasion of Poland and on the 3^rd Britain and France declared war on Germany, but did as little as possible to assist Poland. After over a month Poland was conquered by Germany and its Soviet allies. One must wonder if Britain sent troops to aid the Polish army would they have stood more of a chance?

If you get a call from a buddy, whether it be about military action about to take place in his bedroom or if he needs you to call a bails bondsman, you drop everything; if you don’t it could cost nearly $288 billion dollars (in 40’s money, not this inflated crap we have now) and kill over 60 million people. Now, if you can live with that shit on your brain pal don’t be a bro: ignore the call.

As Sean Connery once said “Here endeth the lesson”.