Category: Uncategorized

The good citizens of the Only State wake
each and every morning to reruns of Forrest Gump.
They enjoy a four-ounce cup of regulation chocolate
milk and a gummy bear vitamin. Then to the bath house
for a good soak and a State-monitored enema.

Today is the Day of Unanimity. Universal suffrage and mandatory
disclosure. Your vote is tattooed on your forehead. We all must choose
the Benefactor in Chief, the source of our guaranteed incomes and free tuition.
Now the government selects student majors. We clamored for it and we got it.
The end of liberty and the secret ballot.

They took my friend Jessie away for kissing someone of the opposite sex
in a sting operation in Malady Park, a well-known wooded area where
nymphomaniacs look for heterosexual perverts. My friend got picked up
for drinking out of a large Styrofoam cup. He dumped his state-dispensed 4 oz.
Jolly cup designed for kale and fish egg smoothies and guzzled home brew instead.

I live with my State-authorized male partner. Our incomes will double if we marry.
We are expected to adopt and raise three children, two from the Ivory Coast and one
from Nepal. We have six months to accept. If not, we will be castrated and turned
into State Drones, our right to live together rescinded and our workloads doubled.
We will be marked for early death, 45 for men, women at 50.

We’ve both been targeted because we are old enough to remember living
in a state of liberty, back when people were permitted to go outside to eat,
defecate, or fornicate at will. During the Confiscation Wars, we lost our freedom.
Permanent curfews are now imposed along with Contentment Schedules.
Millions have been gassed. All guns now belong to the State.

Freddy and I are given privacy once a day from 8:45 pm to 9:15 pm. Water is allotted
from 9:16 pm to 10:00 pm for showers and toilet. As we have no kitchen, no eating
is permitted within our dwelling, not until we adopt. We take our meals at work. My
school serves three a day, each at 750 calories. I must watch my weight. Obesity has been
outlawed, so I must maintain a BMI below 30 or I will be recycled for body parts.

Gratitude sessions are held nightly. I missed mine last night and will be fined. Freddy
attended so his salary will not be cut. If this continues, Freddy will be assigned a new
partner. I will be sent to live in a prison complex for the Ungrateful. No one has ever
graduated from Gratitude School; it is a lifetime sentence. The Benefactress herself
is known to loath the Ungrateful and personally supervises the punishment blocks.

Testicles removed in Castration Clinics from males who refuse adoption are fed,
it is said, to the Benefactor’s prized herd of Shropshire rare breed hogs, bred for her
and other royals exclusively. Severed organs are scattered on pasture lands stretching
as far as the eye can see. It is rumored that the pork is sold at $1000 per kilo to private
armies throughout the world. All other meats are banned except rat and dog.

Today I learned Freddy has been assigned to a reproduction unit. If he sires a child,
he will be released from adoption duties. I must report to Gratitude Learning Center
#267, just outside Maya Angelou City. My life is over. They revoked my teaching
license. I will be required to track signs of “adverse proclivities” and “perverse yearnings”
among men who surf porn sites. They will be targeted for “imminent” elimination.

I just found out I will be castrated for my failure to fulfill my social contract. I am
to be renamed and given diversity training. Despite my preference for male companionship,
I must bunk with three lesbians. They, too, have been identified as “unproductive” and marked
for early termination. They can earn life extension credits by working in brothels and sex clubs
for refugee laborers. They’ve offered to teach me techniques needed for earning credits.

Some trace the end to the Confiscation Wars which, admittedly, were brutal. Others,
to the Supreme Court’s decision allowing the Benefactress to disguise herself as a Person
of Distinction, in a digital mask of Marie Antoinette, Queen Elizabeth and, recently, Neal
Armstrong in full drag. She is a well-known transsexual. The new Constitution forbids
a man with a penis from serving as Our Most Honorable Mistress.

A letter contains a secret.
A precious little secret the connoisseur decodes from a letter.
A precious little secret the river has engraved on the silt and fleeting sand.
For the connoisseur to find out if he would ever.
Who else will find it out if not he,
who else would remember and cherish it in memory,
who else would have thus kept it like a treasure?
His precious little treasure unfolds he.
Her precious little secret so carefully the river had left in a letter
for the connoisseur to know if he ever would.

In a letter washed into his memory in due time
The river communicates her secret to the connoisseur.
The river answers to him her life’s question.
Her life’s question she answers to him.

Knowledge dawns in the connoisseur with a letter,
With a secret contained in a letter,
The river brings him to light
from his dull, decrepit darkness.

To the all-pervading light of love
An open window the Connoisseur is
And so is she, his river.

Yours Faithfully,
Most faithfully, most sincerely,
All her love she pours into a letter,
the river does.

In a precious little letter that she left
for the connoisseur to keep like a treasure,
The river inscribes her lover’s name.

[Aadila, the name in Arabic literally means honesty, sincerity, and fairness.]

Heavy thoughts pull my mind down from the light
Voices and sounds race in my head and take flight
Step after step , weight piles on me
No matter how fast I walk I can never seem to flee
I cry and I scream , estranged from love
Feeling alone in this fight , reaching above
A thousand stars come together , building an angel made of care
She pulls me up , spreading her sweetness in the air
A break from the anger , the stress , the fear
Her soft soothing voice say “it’s okay dear”
She hears me , my sadness , my pain and all
She holds me gently, her soft hands saving me from the fall
I finally feel like I’m not alone in this thousand year war
Her kindness helps me lift myself off the floor
I forget the feeling of love no longer
Bless this sweet girl for helping me be stronger

You have some newly knitted skin
over fur I loved to pieces
that feels so soft
while drooling all over you.

On a diet of candy
and not right now they tell me
you’re drying on the porch
until I just can’t live without.

I’m dragging you along
your biggest stitches
and blabber in the one that’s gone.
So slowly you turn thin again.

I love you so, I love you so!
Even more with button eyes
or when you need to
leave again, bit by fluffy bit.

Love is more than this. Love is made
Of heart and trust. Your
Violence and your heart break cannot be contained. And so I must
Escape. To leave you behind me. Maybe
I got too trapped. Maybe I was wrong.
Stuck in this pit. Maybe I don’t deserve
Much more. But I will pick up my heart. I can carry it
On. I will be free from tears and free from
Restriction. My heart should not be like glass
Everyone deserves to be happy. No one deserves such a monster.
To think that such a person exists. It makes me feel sick.
Heartbreak is all you deserve.
Not that I care. I will now
Take to the sky.
High in the clouds,
I will find

LOVE POEMS BY
STEPHANIE

i’ve always questioned
why i can love so hard
but never be loved the same

i always felt to blame
that their eyes never lit up
like a flame
when they said my name

my heart
became scarred
by all the people
who found it too hard
to love me

i know
that the love
i feel
is stronger than gravity
but i wear it on the outside,
easy for someone to steal

and it repeatedly
gets stolen
until my eyes
are swollen
from crying
over the pain
of never being loved
in the way i love

i can never understand
why i express my love so grand
and they refuse to
even hold my hand,
why for every compliment i give
i only receive a demand,
why i give all i have
and they hurt me
to the point i can’t withstand

i love vulnerably
and am never met
with the same love;
even those who try
can’t even come
close
and it shows.

i feel so lonely
because i know
that it’s only
me
who can love
this fiercely
and i see it clearly
that i am merely
alone

I will love you until
my body turns to dust,
until my atoms break apart
and return to the world whence they came.

(Remember when you said
so casually, in between first and second period
that you would marry me?)

I will love you until I am a gust of wind,
a spray of salty brine,
a pinch of soil,
a lick of flame.

(A theoretical that ripped my world
wide open. Did you mean what you said?
Did my response leave you, too, in shock?)

I will love you until
I am one with the universe again
and even then,
I will still love you.

(I’d marry you too.)

Once upon a time,
In a fantasy world a away,
Stood a beautiful girl,
Innocent and sweet,
Taken from her perch
Far too soon.

As she fell in love,
She fell hard.
For a man that she thought could change.

As reality hit,
And times changed around her,
The man she hoped to change,
Fell short of expectations.
Leaving bruises and empty promises in his wake.

As time passed,
He promised her one more thing.
As she stood at the altar,
Her heart fluttered,
As her hope set in once more,
For the man she hoped she could change.

Alas, as time ticked by,
The girl stood alone,
As a tear fell upon her cheek,
Staining her white dress black.

The man she so hoped would change,
Failed to show on the day they were supposed to wed.
Leaving her heart bruised and empty,
And her life drained.

As time passed,
She continued to live,
Upon her perch once more,
Waiting for the perfect man,
To come and sweep her off her feet.

You? You’re a wicked thing
feline in pale wrappings
Wicked words you fling
lure me back to bring
the heart you are trapping

The scratches on my hide
are just enough to abide
I hope they won’t subside

Since despite your sharp claws
you never bat at flaws
your eyes dark and wide
meet mine and match my stride

Dear Young Joi,
Your body is not an apology…
Stop giving it away to anyone who tells you or tells you to feel sorry for or about yourself…

Your body is not a toy…
Stop allowing people to play with it as children do, without instruction or care until it is a broken thing, of no further interest to be tossed aside.

Your body is not a piece of furniture…
Don’t let just anyone or thing move you off your ground. Or let anyone recklessly toss their unambiguous laundry on top of you until they have time to deal with the mess they created… or your OCD forces you to clean it up on their behalf.. You are no one’s maid.

Your body is not taboo…
Don’t be afraid of it. Let yourself explore every inch of it’s terrain. Map it with your mind until it’s committed to muscle memory before you offer access to outsiders. Remember: THIS IS SPARTA!

Your body is not a sin…
Don’t let them shame you bout how much, how little you use it; whether it be used for your pleasure or purpose is your choice! And your right! Use it [or not] as you damn well please….

Your body is not a side dish [read sidepiece]….
Don’t let them overlook you as if you do or can not meet their needs, when they are malnourished. You are a main course, meant to be fawned over, appreciated and applauded for all the work it took to create your luscious beauty. Your deserve honor & gratitude for nourishment your provide.

Your body is not a secret…
Again, the choice to share it with others is yours and yours alone. Don’t allow them to silence your voice into a whisper, never to be heard. Don’t allow their words or actions to make you fold, be shrunken small enough to fit into a box and hidden away into a corner unknown…
In a world where you were meant to be known..
Where you were meant to shine
Where you were meant to exist
And all you gotta do to impress [or intimidate] is exist.