Category: Uncategorized

The situation was unprovoked.
Your rage was indescribable.
Your words were unfathomable.
Your strength felt superhuman.
My fear was insurmountable.
As if my words were set on repeat, I could only mutter please stop.
I could not cry, not yet.
With each passing second, your rage escalated and vigor intensified.
You continued to dominate my body.
The day you laid your hands on me, I came face to face with the devil.
I could only pray.
Then the unthinkable happened- it was not only you and I.
I was staring back at you, as the gun pressed firmly against your temple.
That was the moment.
I was not looking back at someone I once knew.
Your eyes were no longer green.
You were a hollow shell.
My tears flowed and I could only pray.
My subconscious stopped listening and hearing.
I was emotionally paralyzed.
I could not think.
I could not speak.
My tears and whimpers were now uncontrollable.
I could only pray.

I don’t need supplies.
I need your vote.
For you.
Your family.
Your future.
I taught them to be quiet.
To hide by the safe wall.
We use our walking feet.
Hide your body.
Be quiet.
Crawl.
While I turn off the lights, close the blinds.
Lock the door.
Whisper out names.
Make sure everyone is accounted for.
Some voices turn to giggles.
“Why are we doing this?”
Don’t you remember?
It’s now a lesson I teach, a book I read.
The video about safety, the one we watched.
You are just a baby.
You’ve never heard gunshots.
I follow my training.
The one I learned in a library.
Just another staff meeting.
When “What if?” comes to play.
Fire Extinguisher in hand.
I climb a chair.
I tell the children it will be okay.
Because we practiced.
They’ve been instructed to grab weapons.
They’ll use the school supplies you sent them.
I tell the 5 year olds to defend themselves.
While I wait above the door.
Standing on a bookshelf.
To use my life.
To save someone.
Someone I love.
Did you know that is what teachers are made of?
Guess what?
I still love my job.
Those babies light my heart up.
We care for them so much.
Add Human Shield to our job description.
“You must be a saint.”
They say in the hall.
To have patience for children?
Oh you must be heaven sent.
Yes. I am only trying my best.
Have a growth mindset.
After a drill, I survey the wreckage.
Wipe tears from eyes that are scared senseless.
Have a calm class discussion.
Communicate our emotions.
Ask questions.
Man, these kids are smart.
Empathetic.
Engenius.
Like “What happens if Ms. Porter is hurt?”
How? Do we? Help her?
Where do we run for the help we need?
What do you mean we run to the street?
I’ve imagined all the “What ifs?”.
I dream of blood,
seeping from,
the bodies of,
your children.
As they are scattered across the playground.
I see their corpses in the classroom.
I can hear the screams now.
The ones for change.
To the 2nd amendment.
I ask you.
Your guns?
or
Your children?
Whose future are you protecting?
I’ll buy my own markers, scissors, and supplies.
Make a choice.
Vote.
Use your voice.
Tell me the cost of a child’s life.

Vampire (Rex Jupiter) wanna suck one
¾ moon shines in my full shut eye
I dream of monkeypox on my neck

Damn that mosquito, again
Dyaaaamn, awake, agin
What sound does he make
Like a werewolfwhere (sp?) we,
were we’re howlin

Against my head
What’s that dot, star by the moon

Staring at me
Gleamings on my neck
Jupiter the big one SLAP
..Keepin.my-ass.up

Dear God of sky, law, light, JUP!
And yes, welfare this time too, good-night

It is not easy to see
or to remember,
how the day I sat under a tree,
it gave decent shade to me…

It is not easy to know,
that beautiful day,
how a spot by the lake,
was calming in every way…

It is a beautiful thing,
when instead of the sound of the alarm,
it was the sound of a bird
that made me feel so warm…

When all else fails
to be understood,
things like trees, and butterflies,
tell a beautiful tale, touch wood

My wife says she doesn’t really like
the cereal I bought.
“It tastes like corn chips.
It just doesn’t taste good.
At all.
I don’t like it.”
“Ok,” I say, “I won’t buy it again.”
“That’s what I was getting to,” she says.

But before she arrives at Her Point,
my wife sometimes likes to take the scenic route
through Complain Town,

where the school buses are always stopping in front of you,
and there’s always a truck behind you,
and the lights are too quick,

and the houses are all high ranches,
and every single person has wind chimes,
and the paint on the fences is chipped,
and deflated decorations canvas the lawns,

and the bushes are too bristly,
and the trees won’t stop swaying,
and the hills are too sloped,

and the clouds are too suggestive,
and the sun is always eye level,

and the speed bumps are too high,
and there’s a sidewalk only on one side,

and the mailman could use a belt,
and the kids look wild,
and the elderly limp,

and the birds are always gathering
in the middle of the main road,
which has too many potholes,
and too many fallen branches,
and too many windblown garbage cans,
and is never quite long enough.

i’ve never felt the need to
get lost in someone else before,
but all this shit in my head
needs to be emptied.

lemme empty what’s left
into what i hope can be true,
make something out of
the hope of me and you.

When you lived in the mind of God
You were a hyperventilating swirling thought
Desperate to be born of Man
You chose to signal your entrance
Through the Orion
You shine,the night you were born left
Eyes captivated and necks craned

Now you murmur in the mutuba tree
Your voice a soft susurrous wind rustling the tree’s leaves
No longer a capricious thought but a dominant memory
In the lives you still touch.
Your burial was a show
On cue, a twig breaks from one of the branches
And hits the middle of my head
As if you just read my thoughts

when you fell? i asked.
a pick up line nowadays, though it’s always been stupid.

the trees shower leaves around us
like fallen stars or cherry blossom petals.

you tap your shoes to the pavement
and look into the autumn air.

we pretend it’s prettier here than it is,
that the leaves are gold and the trees silver.

it is better that way.
you touch the blood on your back

and
sigh.

we pretend it is prettier here than it
was, back then

before anyone had tumbled to earth
and dirtied it with their touch.

Scarlet flowers given and exchange of cards.
Chocolates be your treat. Much ado I’ll bring the wine.
Lips caress the glass given; poppy poison my treat is served.

I’ll laugh at your side and watch you.
A quick knife’s embrace to cut out what’s mine.
For you see it’s what I wanted much ado from the very start
Forget me not. My lovely gaze is the last you’ll ever see, my heart.

The grove lit with lilies
Their spirit strong this time of year
When we all beg for the great plucking
Yellow dawn takes us home and my lover lulls to the side
Bound to the strange and afternoons spent near the yard

The unique way to discuss death without mentioning it at
all
The cascade of the tides, yes
As we leave only a trace of your legends to sneak into the
pearly night

But I will see
Be it even if I the sole harbinger of left glares
The lonely serpent, lost touch
Another reason to leave

The fresh pond’s weight just out of reach
Its darkness sprouting from the ground
Wild horses lead us back
Sweet beauty in choice, the poignancy of letting all you
want to carry stay where it must

I speak upon the misplaced flower as I would the warmth
that drags me elsewhere
Boys left in the street, dogs and their fences, the golden
tooth of youth
All will hope yellow to be yellow again