Tag Archives: hope

Speaking for a Cure

5e605b4105ded93ebd811912cfe4d2af

A dawn without the sun
A night without the moon
Is a day without the light
A life gone too soon
So I’m gone speak about it
So I’m gone spit about it
With hope in the wind
Tomorrow in the skies
Til the cure is in our grasp
we keep our eyes on the prize
So I’m gone speak about it
So I’m gone spit about it

Leaves turn and fall in autumn
We rake the ground clear
and wait for Mother Nature
to begin the process again
To restore the forest in what was there
But what happens when the trees stay bare
When a winter’s cold
Springs into a summer’s heat
When deficiency in your immune system
keeps the cycle from being complete
Each infection or complication
Takes it’s toll
T cell count lowered
until trees weaken
Decaying at the root
When they touch ground
With no one but their loved ones around
How does the pain sound
Is it jarring enough to face the truth
We need a cure
Support for those dedicated to an answer
Awareness raised
Initiatives backed
Stories heard
Until lives can be saved

A dawn without the sun
A night without the moon
Is a day without the light
A life gone too soon
So I’m gone speak about it
So I’m gone spit about it
With hope in the wind
Tomorrow in the skies
Til the cure is in our grasp
we keep our eyes on the prize
So I’m gone speak about it
So I’m gone spit about it

More than 1 million in the US affected
So many more around the world
Developing nations struggling
for necessary medications
Minority communities here juggling
the rise of new cases
I just see the faces
Heaven made amazing
that will be lost too soon
They are the reason we seek
Optimism held
Berlin, France, Mississipi
It’s the reason to be in these streets
Passion ignited
Courage to persevere and endure
Inspires our search for a cure
Antiretrovirals maintain
Vaccines and topical treatments
being sought to prevent
But those faces
They shed tears for a cure
So we push
we learn
we test
we examine
until we win
restoring the fading light
that make the smiles
on those faces shine bright

A dawn without the sun
A night without the moon
Is a day without the light
A life gone too soon
So I’m gone speak about it
So I’m gone spit about it
With hope in the wind
Tomorrow in the skies
Til the cure is in our grasp
we keep our eyes on the prize
So I’m gone speak about it
So I’m gone spit about it

Piece submitted for the 2BeatHIV’s Innovation Challenge http://www.2beathiv.org

Video submission

Gentrification of Identity

displacement

You don’t tear a person down and rebuild them with intent on something better. That’s what they do to black and brown neighborhoods. Why would you do it to a person?

Talk this way, walk this way, wear these clothes…

Why is there never recognition of the special in each person?

Why do we toss away self determination for impression?

Sanitization has been a thorn in our side for too long. Do we not recognize it’s effects?

Why not add to what is there. Teach value in authentic self and the importance of widening scope. Foster adaptability not assimilation.

Requiem for Change

Rape-Culture-e1392242243997

The words don’t always
seem adequate enough
of my tongue

I’m still choking back tears
after all this time
I guess it’s learning
you can never be good guy oblivious
for too long
You can’t be enough royalty
to not need to keep challenging
yourself
Ain’t no ribbons for books read
and chivalry
This here is a long road traveled

The first shared tears came in high school
She was trying to reconcile what happened
I was trying to use balled fists in revenge
She was telling me she didn’t want that
I never realized I was making her
manage him and me
It took too long to recognize her strength
Good guy said you should have stayed with me
Good guy said let me fix it
Good guy still made it about good guy
I guess I felt
I couldn’t make it about her because
I wasn’t good at tears falling

Daddy liked liquor and women
Liked to swing heavy hands
I never asked to know about
anything else
But I know the dangers of that recipe
Good guy wanted to redeem
him by being the first
good decision he ever made
Wasn’t I the one who had to go
pick up his pride
from houses he was no longer
wanted in?
Good guys learn to fix things early

Good guys ask stranger if he
can walk her to her car
Never wonders why she might refuse
Might get mad at the answer
He be good guy
Good guy ask questions for understanding
Never bother to ask if it is ok
to ask questions first
Might take too much time trying to grasp
the reason for the answer
Good guy wears badges like boy scout
earned by completing deeds and tasks
Good guy don’t ask why the shirt
makes some run
Never realized that he didn’t get
the only badges made
That boy scouts also learned to hunt

The best goodbye
I’ve ever been a part of
was packing good guy’s baggage
and sending him on his way
The search for a new tenant
in this man’s understanding of self
was intensive
Thank God for the caretakers
who saw fit to share
with this fractured dreamer
The only lesson that never
settled home
is the freedom in letting
cheeks wet
I’ve never been good
at tears falling

What I did learn is priceless
I was inspired by the number of
times I was betrayed
by good guy instincts
Confided in by partners who
survived
Didn’t need to be saved
Found comfort in the midst of my eyes
I was challenged by fighters who
gave me books and lessons on
accountability
Pushed by men who were willing
to sit with each other in examination
of our own masculinity
Checked by soothsayers who had
seen where ignorance would lead me
Supported by a defiant band of clumsy
who were finding out how to stumble
but not fall
We had been learning to walk a certain
way for so long
The steps were unfamiliar but liberating

Each experience makes my heart full
Sobbing seems like thank you sometimes
I guess I know the reason I feel I’ve never
shown enough gratitude
I’ve just never been good at tears falling

Good guy sends me postcards
and texts saying he wants to come home
I tell him no
I’ve seen too much
I ain’t the same man no more

I remember leaving a workshop
after talking to a group of young men
feeling heavy
I remember telling the community
organizers that brought us
that there was so much work to do
What a crippling feeling it is
to do all that you know how to do
but still worrying
To fear that an angel’s fall at night
could lead to a devilish dawn
I remember stopping on the side
of the road on the way home
because what wasn’t being said
was deafening
I couldn’t get out the car
fast enough
I remember
the comrade
who held me up
The brother who loved me
band-aid enough to make it home
I remember the tears

The years doing workshops with men
The programs developed
The organizations worked with
The activists I have been trained by
The survivors I have stood by
The conversations
The broken
The determined
The death threats
The resilience
The everyday reflection
The camaraderie
The betrayals
The challenges
The dismissals
The reiterations
The struggle

The beauty of healing
The burden of sustainability
The necessity of the work

The realization that silence
means that nobody ever
considers that you can
hear them
see them

I promise
The tears are never too far away

I read a comment online today
I wanted to go numb
I couldn’t
I wanted to break things
but demolition is too familiar of a fancy
I wanted to cry
But I’ve never been good at falling tears

The water has welled in my chest
One day I will see monsoon
Or one day
I will vomit tidal waves

Superheroes

20782-marvel-superheroes-1280x800-comic-wallpaper

“A hero is an ordinary individual who finds the strength to persevere and endure in spite of overwhelming obstacles.” – Christopher Reeve

My mother always told me I’d be a teacher

I ignored her as many young people do their parents

Set my sights on grander and more lucrative endeavors

So I proceeded to chase an illusion

Someone told me I should have

Spent time lending my talents

To a Tin Man of a system

Only to find myself the victim of heartless disloyalty

But along the way

Me and my pen

Came to terms with the marriage of purpose and blessing

Took a title, then accepted responsibility

And found ourselves in front of a classroom

 

When I called her and told her

I was promoted from artist-in-residence to a professor

My expectation

Was that I’d receive an “I told you so”

She didn’t let me down

Then lifted me up

In prayer

To the God that kept her son from harm’s way

Helped him find his way

Gave him gifts

Taught him how to use them

Then allowed him to teach others

 

I remember the smile I heard through the phone

I carry it with me to campus

Show it off to the students who enter my class

I am shepherd to the extraordinary

Who haven’t been helped to understand

The power they possess

My job is to teach them how to use their talents

Harness their uncanny abilities

And oh my do they have superpowers

 

A young man from southern California

Who had his heart ripped out by betrayal

So he replaced it with burning desire to succeed

Covered in resentment like a suit of armor

And I have to show him that what’s possible

Is in stark contrast to what he’s been told

 

A beautiful young woman in tight ripped jeans

Who only sees the world in shades of grey

Telekenetic, willing objectivity into well crafted essays

With elder siblings who try to murder her self esteem

I tell her that like a phoenix

She will be reborn even stronger

 

I have learned that invisibility

Is the ability to be in a room and be ignored

There is a girl in the back of my classroom

Not unseen

I know that she is there

I let her know

The force field of apathy she puts up

Will not keep me from showing her

That she is fantastic

 

I teach composition and rhetoric

Creative writing

Alchemy

If you believe that learning to work the elements of craft

Can alter what matters

Think and you can write

Listen and you can learn

Read and you can react

Aptitude is a desire

Let me show you how to harness hard work

 

Javonte was trying to claw his way out of the streets

Adamantium mentality said don’t ever be broke

So he stuck to his ways instead of the books

Until he was struck

I keep expecting him to wake up

Because I believe in quick healing factors

 

The freshman cheerleader

Whose desire to fit in

Has her adopting the bad habits

Of the people she comes in contact with

Keeps going rogue from my class

I want to convince her it is her potential

That is untouchable

 

The kid they all call strange that wants to be a doctor

I help hone his eloquence so he can cast spells

On those who might doubt his promise

The football player ashamed of his brilliant analytical mind

Because he is more celebrated for his hulking presence on the field

The NY native who is so absent he’s a ghost

Who randomly straddles desk chair like a motorcycle

Trying to navigate the parallel dimensions

Of the hell at home and the responsibility of school

 

I know people with superpowers

I marvel at the possibilities

Some change into costume before leaving their room

Some can’t mask who they were born to be

Mutants don’t get to have an alter ego

The nerds, cool kids, and jocks

They come to me for answers

I try to help them uncover the secrets

To finding them on their own

I never expected to be here

But I couldn’t imagine not being here

Using my ability to read and influence minds

To school these gifted youngsters

 

I called my mother to tell her I was a professor

My expectation

Was that she would give me an “I Told you so”

She didn’t let me down

Then lifted up my purpose
When she asked “Do you enjoy what you do?”

I replied

Mom, I get to train superheroes

 

Signs – A new poem

WarningSigns

Signs

She said she enjoyed suspense
Looked me in my eye
Smiled
It took every thing in me not to run
Because hesitation
Is often a respectful and compassionate billboard
Letting you know that what you need
Might be waiting at the next exit
But I don’t heed warnings well
I’m not too good with signs

Like the one
Neon lit between her lips
Juke joint juxtaposed
With the temptation on the tip of his tongue
He made her want to discover the poet inside her
But the time between inspiration and insatiable
Can come and go so quick

That by the time she realized
The truth of the poet inside her
They’d both lied
Her still laying
With tears in her eyes
Him with new conquests in his eyes
I wished I had known before I booked him
For the show

I understand though
Optimism can become desert deceit
When you’ve become parched
Since the last wet taste
Dehydrated
Facing decisions like segregated designations
Marriage like bright light over horizon
Indulgence like dark degradation
Seems like white only and colored only
Water fountains

Hallucinations can happen
When Road Closed
Look like Rest Stop Ahead
Have you crash test dummy desperately
Diving into accidental embraces

I’m no better
Show me a danger zone

And I see an area under construction
An optimistic land developer
Who’s been an indecisive bulldozer for too long
Never knowing whether to dig or bury
I’ve got a hard hat and a lunch box
Because it’s a long days work being this beautifully broken
Fenced into construction sites
With lovers wearing orange vests and steel toe boots
Then wondering why all I have are stories
of things falling apart

Ask me if I can memory a blueprint of love working
I’ll answer
What examples do I have of building to completion,
Joyous occupancy, effective and efficient maintenance
Death and divorce has robbed me of a semblance
Of certainty that it’s possible
So I’m making it up as I go along
Plans are just pages of passionate principles
But no context
It’s all imagination
Ingenuity
Dammit I’m drawing this shit in crayon

Life is just a School Zone
Full of lessons
A roadway full of decisions
and speed limits
A lot with instructions
to Park in Designated Spaces Only
I’ve paid a lot of fines
Learned a lot from my experiences

But I’m gone be ok
God granted the peace
that likes to dress up as patience
and play trick or treat with elitists and enigmas
It’s just a matter of reading the signs
Closed
Out for lunch
Private
They’re just all defense mechanisms
Just steps along the path to being comfortable
Open 24hrs A Day

That’s why I’m good at doing this work
Service entrance above my apartment door
Where the exit sign should be
Means I signed up when I step out
To face the day
Even though my choice got me asking questions
Like why me
When them others got diamond encrusted
Out of Order pieces
Wood carved Out for Repairs medallions
We Reserve the Right to Refuse tshirts
And Try Back Later four finger rings

But I tried to turn my back on my calling
God taped a kick me sense of responsibility
to my back
Now I bear the weight of the world
Between my shoulder blades
And spend my days
With life’s foot in my ass
Trust me, I got the message

See there’s no turning back
Once the door has closed behind you
Your vision, beliefs, and sense of purpose
Waiting on the other side
Every day in the world is a meeting
With the primary stockholders of all that you are
They knew the best course of action was going public
Too late to say you aint ready
When it plainly said
Authorized personnel only

I just answer the call
I’ve tried to manipulate my destiny
Ignorant
That a gated community
Can quickly become a prison yard
That when the hands of the clock
Begin to believe they dictate the time
It will be too late
When they realize they are outnumbered

She said she enjoyed suspense
I’m looking for what’s suspended in her eyes
Then let the moment pass by
With no reply
Because hesitation
Is often a respectful and compassionate billboard
Letting you know that what you need
Might be waiting at the next exit
But I don’t heed warnings well
And I’m not too good with signs

New book excerpt…

3e6f3d48617ed0042499394fa6af387c

So I am working on my next book of poetry. It is a book about dating and relationships. It follows my experiences starting in late 2007 when I had to face the end of a long term relationship and the horrors of returning to the dating world. I did what I often do when I am trying to make sense of emotions or thoughts, I wrote. So this is a collection of the poems I wrote along the way, edited of course (You don’t need to see the original versions of some of these). I decided to also include retellings of various experience in my own words and from my own perspective. Hey, it’s my book. So it will include tongue in cheek recollections and introspective reflections on my experiences. It will also include my hope to one day write a happy ending to this whole thing. But that will be another book.

This excerpt is what started it all. I posted an anectdote with one of the poems a long time ago. The response was good. One of my friends, a poet and writer named Mike Simms, told me he wanted to see more of that. The lightbulb went off then. Since then I have been planning this next project. This year I am determined to finish the manuscript.

I am not ready to announce the title of the book yet.

Here you go…

Book Excerpt (draft)

Love is a funny thing. We all know that, we’ve experienced it, and some of us have had the shit smacked outta us by it. The emotion is eternal and universal, but also subjective. It comes to us in various forms based on where we are in our lives. It is a chameleon, a shape shifter, Mystique from Xmen. Anybody notice that she’s called mystique, able to become anything, and she’s blue? Talk about subtle irony. Any one guy who has gotten the blues from a woman who appeared to be everything you imagined knows what I mean, but I digress. See, I was smacked by love in sunny Los Angeles, CA.

Poets…poets…poets. What more do I need to say? I became head over heels over one. Had seen her in New Mexico and 2 years later there she was in Texas. I, for the first time, put myself out there at one of these festival thingies I attend every year. Now I hadn’t done this before and probably won’t do it ever again (it’s like Hedonism at some of these thingies), but I couldn’t pass up this opportunity. There was intrigue, watching eyes, secret rendezvouses (I don’t know the plural of this word), and suspense (wasn’t she dating him, are they chilling, what’s going on, I wanted some of that, etc.). We walked, talked, drank frappuccinos, and made plans for our future (actually just later that night…this isn’t a Hugh Grant movie). She confessed her quirks, insecurities, and hangups (to see if I’d run). I said no problem (cuz I’m crazy and L.A. issues aint got nuttin on NC issues) and fell even more into whatever that was I was inflicted with at the time (gas). It was like Romeo & Juliet, West Coast vs East Coast, a train vs Hancock…see a theme forming here? When I got back to NC after the festival thingie I was on cloud 9. We talked on the phone, emailed, and sent each other poems. I asked what she needed from me and the answer was a little challenging. She said, “bring your behind to L.A. so we can see if this thing is real.” Yeah, see the way my bank account work…Ugh, I guess I better start counting pennies and calling favors.

MESSAGE! Don’t fly across the country to see if something is real. Don’t relocate, sell organs, cause yourself physical harm, or harm puppies or small children to see if something is real. Somebody needs to confirm the realness before reservations are made. I should have asked for fax verification.

Instead I said ok. I booked a flight, packed my bags, and flew off for a semi secret week in L.A. (of course no poets were informed of this whole thing…EGADS that would be a catastrophe). I arrived at the airport and was welcomed by the cutest face, the most engaging eyes, and the charmingnest smile ever (no, I am not done making up words). The devil is the Tom Vila of temptation. I was the happiest most oblivious guy in the world.

vrvrhvyrwyrrrvyhrrwyrrrr (fast forward) to 2 days later and I was miserable. After having the fabric of my humanity tested and the whole of my being questioned, I was told I was too nice, too romantic, too understanding, and too damn good (mind you I flew across the country to find this out. Coulda brotha have gotten a Hallmark card instead?). I’ve never been tested like that ever (other than the GRE. That’s it! She was like the GRE. Breakthrough!). So I go from being attacked to being treated to a sightseeing adventure of L.A. (every place there were no poets). It was like a schizophrenic National Lampoon vacation. It was like MMA in the octagon…FIGHT, break for an excursion, FIGHT, break for an excursion. Ugh, but at least the excursions were fun.

I ate at a Vegan restaurant for the first time. I got to check out some community stuff. I was even taken to my first bonfire. I was scared at first I would burned at the stake, but that would have only compassionately ended my misery.

So there I am on the beach trying to find serenity and promising myself to never fall for this one again. We should be snuggled up on this beach. Nah, that would just be choke holds and arm bars. Alas, what is a man to do when the woman he is head over heels for is treating him like an exchange student she is hosting? I decided to try and make something good come out of it. I tuned out the chitchat behind me (what was she talking aboot?), pulled out pen and pad, and composed this poem.

Dear Sunset

Don’t close your eyes yet baby
I still believe in miracles
I find one each morning you wake
I aint ready to let this one go yet

Don’t take your last breath
Because the beauty of your horizon
Is why I still have faith
Why I still think I can escape
Find freedom as far away
As the hope I had
When you smiled

Don’t say goodbye
Leaving me standing alone
As in the dark as when you told me
I didn’t know you
Just familiar with
Like easy Saturday mornings
Lazy afternoons

Tears well like waves behind my eyes
The shores of my cheeks
Is where pride sits
Denial sits
Shallow confidence sits
I’m fighting the pain waiting
To tidal these sand bags
I stacked by not sleeping well without you

I call you at dawn
Find you now at dusk
As fed up with today as ever
But don’t make me say
Goodnight baby

I’m sorry
Beached here
With a whale of an attitude
Chest full of heartache
Wading through the tears
My vision of us surfs on
I’m trying to find the right thing to say to you
Set fire to my insecurities
Let love bonfire dance drunkenly
Around the blaze

Don’t leave me baby
You’re the reason I believe in possibly
Like it’s possible you get more amazing
Each time I see you

Take me with you
Let’s say good riddance
To everything that keeps us apart
Set our doubts sail
Christen it God’s work
Wave goodbye to hesitation
Let the sinking feeling we won’t work
Become a titanic thing of the past

I want to sky dive
Jump off the highest
Mountain of a molehill
To see if I fall to my demise
Of fall into the warmth of your embrace
But instead I’m on this shoreline
Trying to reach you

Whisper your wishes to me
I don’t want God to hear
I’ll fill him in
With my nighttime prayers
So he’ll know why I need you back again
Baby I’m listening even if I look far away
That’s because I know you’ll be there soon
I want to know where to find you

Be us baby
Because I can’t be us without u
Otherwise there’d be this consonant loneliness
I really couldn’t deal with

Dear sunset
I want to see your smile rise again
When I arrive
Let me bask in doing what makes you happy
Because it makes me feel alive

I don’t want you to go
Because all I’ll be left with
Is what I don’t know
Every truth I didn’t let go
Every emotion I didn’t let show

See without you
It’s face my fears of darkness
Or indulge in artificial light
Trying to convince me
That the shadows they cast
Is them helping me put the dark past
Behind me

I can’t do it
When I know you’re still there
You just found the other side of me
I fail to acknowledge
So I howl at the moon
Ravenous but resistant
To every temptation it tries to feed me
I want breakfast
In you eyes

I dream that you are waiting
For me to find my new day
Wishing for my willingness to fight for my morning
Ignore predictions of storm clouds
Or overcast baggage
I want to make your dreams come true
All I ask is that you
Be there baby
I’ll meet you in the morning

This…(breathe)…person told me if nothing else I would get some great poetry out of our experience (people who say that have 8 toes and eat lightning bugs, don’t trust them). Unfortunately she was right. I changed my flight to leave earlier, packed my bags, and embarked on one of the most embarrassing plane rides back to North Carolina. The flight attendant keep checking on me like she was tending to a wounded puppy. Did I look that pitiful? As I languished in my pain I wrote this poem.

Lost in L.A.

I can’t stand to love you
As fear and loathing rises like hair on skin
It scares and disgusts me to care for you
I’m horrified to fall and it sickens me to lose
So I hold and push you at the same time
This is a narcissistic nihilism
Where I don’t want to believe in anything but us
But I don’t believe we will exist
It’s tearing me apart and it’s holding me together
And I don’t know if I know what I don’t know anymore
Am I crazy?

I paint self-portraits on your eyelids
So I can see my reflection when your eyes are closed
So I stare at you when you sleep
And I imagine that your vision of me is why you’re so peaceful
I try to caress you till our hearts beat in syncopation
So it feels like we are one
Because each pace fits in each pause, a long steady rhythm
That I accent with kisses like high hats
As you snore Billie Holliday

Dammit I can’t stand to love you this much
To feel tame under your touch
To run wild from your influence
I say bestiality becomes you
Late at night trying to hold me under the full moons glow
When you realize I’ve spent many moons
Tearing apart the hearts of angels
A ravenous wolf happy to kiss a woman
With her tongue dipped in silver
I want you to slay me

Give me life
So that at midnight we can entomb ourselves between the sheets
And rise again in the morning
Let our nights be our Passover
Are you my Judas or my Peter?
Will you betray me or denounce me
I say you’re my John the Baptist
With me through and through
Your happiness scriptures my significance
And my commitment worships you faithfully
But my insecurities hide from your judgment
I don’t know why you’re here

I often joke that I am your two-way mirror
I see you and you see you
So of course I seem as wonderful as you actually are
My glorious rebel
I could die with you on the battlefield
But if I couldn’t have you in the meantime
I wouldn’t have the manifesto
That fuels my will to fight on the frontlines

They tell us to lay our burdens down
See graves are the only things
That never get tired of holding you
So I dig through the dirt I’ve done
And in my heart I want to bury you there
But it’s hard to hold this in
So as this rose grows through the concrete
I let my tears nurture your impact
I can’t take feeling this way
But I can’t help caring this much

So often relationships are similes
Ours is a metaphor
I find refuge here
But a sanctuary is a home for the heart hell has its sights on
So I pole dance for the devil
Trying to grapple a pillar of strength
I can’t live this way
But I can’t die not loving you

This is my dialectical diatribe
My ballad of balance
Where I blindly weight why I can’t wait to hold you
Against why I can’t hold the weight of having you
Why I can’t remember before you and I can’t picture after you
I can’t stand to love you this much
But I couldn’t stand to not love you at all

I have been kissing the nape of your neck
For a week now
Your touch hasn’t become softer
Your words haven’t become more understanding
I’m waiting to be committed
Proving my insanity with my dedication
Repeating the same affectionate ignorance
Expecting the result to change
Only it’s become monotonous
Instead of monogamous

I just want to hate you
Love the idea of forgetting you
Only I forget to hate you
Love the idea of holding you
This air guitar romance
Where I pretend
That we make beautiful music together
You are an apparition
Imagined when the devil slipped
A hallucinogen into my loneliness
I just want to come down off this high
Want this plane to touch down on NC ground
Want your voice to become an unfamiliar sound
How could I have fallen so deeply
For someone willing to watch me drown
Yet I hold you in my heart
Drip you from this pen
Writing memos to my heart
To never be this foolish again

L.A. sucks. Not really, but I held on to that belief until I was able to return to LA and regain my dignity. Now me and LA cool.

I knew going into this that she had just left a relationship that formed when I first met her in New Mexico and lasted until I saw her again in Texas. It was intense, encompassing, and challenging. She was in one of those places we find ourselves in where your mind is telling you that maybe you should try something different (Sound familiar?). I was the different, someone she would have never otherwise been involved with. I was someone she admittedly said she would eat alive. I was someone she hoped would be the balance of peace and turmoil.

I was struggling through a relationship that had been going on for years. We had moved into the break up and get back together later because it’s too comfortable, safe, easy, etc. phase (we did that twice) only to eventually give up. I was looking for that grand romance to whisk me away to happiness (I was tricked into believing dysfunction leads to happiness. You know, the plot of every romantic movie).

We artists, especially poets, seek to see so we can write. Often we see what we seek where it’s not. Hey, shit happens. It’s the lesson that moves us forward. So now I tip my glass of punch, take it to the head, and rejoice in the wisdom of my experiences.

I was taught that you will find what you’re looking for unless you change what you are looking for. Those looking for change will find the same (only in a different shell). Those who change the way they look will find out even more about themselves.

Yep, I’m that deep. That was bottom of the ocean right dere!

One piece of advice,  be careful of those festival thingies. They can get you in trouble!

But wait, there is more!

So a few years later I’m sitting at my computer on a Sunday afternoon perusing facebook…

Miracle Whip (a conversation on power)

80b6232d220bf8699b8608383dbd6305

Miracle Whip: A Villainous Villanelle

Miracle Whip is polarizing
Undeterred by contrasting perceptions
The aim is to rally its base

Moderates vary in their condiments
Revolutionaries make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches
See Miracle Whip is polarizing

They say po’ folks beg for cheese in blocs
Instead of working for white bread
The aim is to rally its base

Ketchup goes best with chalk outlines
Mayonnaise is all liberalism and no fight
But Miracle Whip is polarizing

Bipartisan delis seek extravagant expansion
Say menus should be geopolitical
The aim is to rally its base

Privilege packaged all red, white, and blue
Butter knives legislated, privatized, or militarized
Miracle Whip is polarizing
Its aim is to rally its base