What You Don't Understand

I can't kill
and I can't win
a peace prize for it.
I can't save the government
It's too far gone.
I never sleep,
I'm like a drone
On Snowden's trail.
I hear voices
From a soldier's family
Who won't eat tonight.
Maybe I'm seditious,
another victim to shutdown,
But you can't kill what you don't understand.
And you'll never understand.

We've All Got Something

I wrote a poem to the beat of Let Her Go by Passenger

I’ve got something

But it’s not a lot.

I’ve got sunlight

But I want the rain.

I’ve got love

And I want some more.

I’ve got demons

But I let ‘em be.

I’ve got eyes

That don’t always see.

I’ve got legs

That won’t always run.

I’ve got a heart

And I hope it beats.

I’ve got a soul

Somewhere deep inside.

I’ve got time

To dream a dream.

I’ve got stars

To count at night.

I’ve got screams

That interfere.

I’ve got a feeling

Something isn’t right.

I’ve got nothing

We ain’t got nothing

If we cannot act.

Blame

I blame the poor

And not the ones

Who put them there.

I blame women

Who are raped

Because they dare

To go outside

Or dress as less

Than nuns.

I blame

Young black men

Because I am taught

To fear them.

I blame

Single mothers

Who destroy our values

As they sacrifice everything

They have for love.

I blame

Homosexuals

And their pursuit of happiness.

I blame

Everyone.

A Response to Carlos Vigil

"An openly gay New Mexico high school student who spoke out against bullying died Tuesday after his family removed him from life support following a suicide attempt over the weekend. Carlos Vigil Carlos Vigil, 17, posted a suicide note online on Saturday where he described being the target of bullying, and wrote, 'The kids in school are right, I am a loser, a freak and a fag and in no way is that acceptable for people to deal with.' His father rushed home when he heard about it, but it was too late." - LGBTQ Nation

I’m sorry to those who I offended over the years.

You spoke for those who couldn’t speak.

I’m blind to see that I, as a human being, suck.

You’ve never sucked.

I’m an individual who is doing an injustice to the world and it’s time for me to leave.

Please stay.

Please don’t ever feel sorry for me, or cry – because I had an opportunity at life and that opportunity is over.

It isn’t over; you have so much more to give.

I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to love someone or have someone love me.

We love you.

I guess it’s best though, because now I leave no pain onto anyone.

Believe us, there is pain.

The kids in school are right, I am a loser, a freak, and a fag and in no way is that acceptable for people to deal with.

You are special, you are not a freak, and one day, they will see how beautiful it is.

I’m sorry for not being a person that would make someone proud.

You’ve made so many proud.

I’m free now. Xoxo.

We wish that we could be.

Carlos

Rehtaeh Parsons Is My Daughter

Rehtaeh Parsons was the victim of an alleged gang rape and an online bullying campaign over the last few months. She recently committed suicide. Her organ donation saved the lives of four people.

To the lucky one who has her heart
Be glad that it still beats
And cherish it -
Laugh and love the days
She no longer can.
Remember why you have it
And be kind. Use it wisely.
Don’t back down from hate.
Stand up for others suffering.
Rehtaeh lives in you
And all of us.

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Angel-Rehtaeh/352644484835299

Sandy Hook

For the families mourning in Connecticut:

Because words are stronger than bullets
We will keep hate on the run with love
And our children shall return to us.
You will see your faith renewed;
The darkest cloud of doubt
Can only rain so long.

Sun will shine and fill your empty beds with light
I promise it will come. I promise you.
Just as dusk gives way to dawn,
Your heart will beat again.

Today's Tragedy

Today I was heartbroken. The news hit hard. Over twenty people in Connecticut dead; eighteen children. I clung to the radio in my car, trying to understand. Why? Is it the lapse of federal gun laws? Is our mental health system so deteriorated in this country as not to get these psychopaths the care or seclusion they need? I was angry. I wanted to blame the killer, I wanted to blame society, myself and everyone. Is this something that will keep happening until everyone is numb? Aurora, Virginia Tech, Columbine… it feels the same and yet it doesn't. A grown man decided to enter an elementary school and commit a vicious act of evil beyond comprehension.

I thought all of this on my way to volunteering at a local elementary school. I expected lock down but no one else had even heard. It was better that way. The kids carried on much like they always do. I played games and pushed two young girls on the swing, thankful they were okay. That’s all any of us can really do right now. We can only be thankful for our children and the ones around us and pray that they stay safe.

When someone takes the life or innocence of a child it shatters us. Maybe it’s because we see in them the ability to extend our own mortality; maybe it’s because our hope for a brighter future is tarnished. I know for one, when I see my niece or any young child, I see hope; the potential for someone to live and do the things I never could. I doubt often I can change the world but never them. They are free; vulnerable but free. And when society fails to protect them it fails everyone.

Rest in Peace, My Hero, Neil

Like many, I was very sad to hear about the passing of Neil Armstrong today. He was a tremendous figure in history, but more importantly, a tremendous person whose duty and dedication to his country surpassed all else. To sci-fi geeks like me, he meant more to than even that. He was a symbol for what we could achieve if we worked hard enough. We could look up at the sky and see his triumph, one small step for man, as something to strive for. While we dreamed, someone was really doing it. And maybe someday we could too.

I grew up seeing a generation inspired by Neil and his words. They wrote of space travel and new worlds. I saw technology he and others used become the basis for modern life. But, more importantly, I saw his message and hope for mankind live on. I will admit I cried. But, I am also glad that such a person as Neil Armstrong was alive to change the world. Men and women like him, not the buildings, monuments, or even documents are what truly embodies America.

100 Word Flash Fiction

The Good Fight

“Don’t do the crime, if you can’t do the time,” she said, naively in a condescending tone. Beth was a bitch. She didn’t understand. What hard choices had the rich, former Homecoming Queen of Rhodes High School ever had to make? What shoes to wear? Which job not to work? Some of us didn’t have a choice in either. We wore the only pair of shoes we owned to the only job we could find. Even then, it wasn’t enough. We had to cut corners. Most borrowed, some begged and a few, like me, stole. Mostly, from bitches like Beth.

Parental Info on DirecTV

DirecTV offers info on practically every show for parents. I do mean, just about every show. Not only that but they have family discussion questions for the very worst of them. You know the ones kids should not be near at all, let alone with sane parents? Well, these are a few of the best.

Beavis and Butt-Head

All right, Billy, we're going to watch Beavis and Butt-Head and then we're having an intellectual discussion on its relevance to society. Think really hard on the issues it presents. Did you just laugh when I said hard? God dammit, Billy!

Families can talk about role models. Do you expect to find positive role models in the shows you watch? Which ones exist? What aspects of their behavior impress you? Do you think their characteristics are transferrable to the real world? Teens: Why do you think this show has been remade? Does it offer any positive content for viewers? Is its comedy style similar to any other show you watch? Do you find it funny? Are you familiar with the MTV shows that are highlighted in Beavis and Butt-head? If not, are you more inclined to watch them after seeing the clips here? How does intermingling shows like this serve as advertising? Do you think that factored into the plans for this series?

MANswers
Daddy really likes this show. We're going to figure out why.

Families can talk about what it means to treat other people with respect. Does this show treat its subjects respectfully? Does it matter whether subjects are willingly participating in the issues and events the show covers (dwarf tossing, for example)? What messages does the show send about sex, alcohol, and other hot-button issues? Do you think producers hope teens will watch? Why or why not?

1,000 Ways to Die

Fictitious representations of death aren't teaching you anything. We laugh at real people's problems in this family. Even if they don't always live through it.

Families can talk about the pros and cons of featuring accidents and/or deaths on a reality show. Is it ever OK to treat these events as a source of entertainment? Does it make a difference if the stories are presented within the context of educating viewers? Families can also talk discuss how death and dying are treated in mainstream American culture. Did you know that some cultures incorporate death as a major part of life? How does this show treat its subjects?

The Real Housewives of Atlanta

Jessica, with any luck this will be your life someday. Jessica?  JESSICA!? Put down that book on the LSAT!!

Families can talk about the appeal of watching shows about wealthy, elite members of society. Why do you think the Real Housewives franchise is so successful? What kinds of messages do these shows send about people who have money? Do you think people really want to be like them? What would be the hardest part about living like these people? The easiest? Families can also discuss some of the featured on the show. Some of them talk about their troubled pasts. How do you think that impacts the way they live their lives?

Also, on a final note, they had this to say about Spongebob Squarepants:

‎"Parents need to know that this cartoon includes violent, dark satirical humor that will confuse kids who can't separate fantasy and reality."

Yes Spongebob is violent and dark and a mockery of sponges everywhere.  He will corrupt your mind as he washes your dishes.  Beware!

Eve v. God

Eve sued God today in federal court for damages cited under the Americans with Disabilities Act.  “I was a diabetic,” she said in a recent press release.  “I couldn’t just turn down an apple with my blood sugar the way it was.”

The defense counters Eve was not an American citizen at the time of the incident and therefore not entitled to the act’s protection.  Her lawyers responded she was the mother of all American citizens.  The defense paused for thought at having heard this and proceeded to scratch their heads at a loss for words.

“Her and Adam’s eviction,” Eve’s lawyer stated, “was unwarranted, unethical and illegal.  Would God have kicked a paraplegic out of Eden for taking a crutch?”

In further developments, the serpent is getting in on the action.  He also claims himself as a victim; of defamation from God.  He recently was quoted saying he had only prescribed Eve necessary medicine for her continued well-being.  “God has blighted my good name and reputation,” he told reporters.

Could this develop into a class-action?  Analysts are saying it might.  Stayed tuned to Channel 3 news for the latest!

For Steve

Steve Jobs, the former CEO of Apple died tonight after a battle with cancer.  I wrote of it on Facebook "A man who had his hands in Pixar, Atari, Apple and every facet of innovation in pop culture, a college dropout who slept on floors and went on to change the world has died too young, too soon."  I had really never stopped to think of the ways this one man had influenced my own and countless other lives.  The movies, games I saw and played with family, growing up that were in large part a product of his work.  A song on the go that picked me up when I was down.  I wish I had took more time to appreciate the remarkable man behind so much inspiration.  I don't know how many poems I've wrote after listening to an ipod, or later from itunes on my Android, but I know it's been a lot.  And I know a man who fought adversity and poverty succumbed to a disease no one should ever have to suffer through.  But I take solace in the fact he did the most anyone could ever dream of doing with the time that he had.

The Man

THE MAN stood at a window, overlooking his empire.  Cars drove below past houses he owned, indirectly, through the different mortgage companies.  They were his, the people and machinery.  But there was no love or paternal affection.  It was purely lust and domination, driving him.

Radio played the music he liked; television the shows he watched.  And the man watched and liked what made the money.

No one stood up to him.  Many doubted his existence.  The man was folklore and that’s how he preferred it.  The truth was often too dangerous or surreal for anyone to know for sure.  People merely liked the idea of controlling their own destinies.  Too much or too little liberty would always lead to chaos.  And the man saw this as his role, his purpose if you will.  He called the shots so no one else had to; a silent dictator by trade.

The story of Job often came to mind.  He, like most was a man blessed to live in ignorance.  Of any force protecting him, he was blissfully unaware until a day came when he was left to endure the full brutality of nature.  It took his health, his wife and children.  Job appealed to God, but in a larger sense any degree of control.

The Man realized he wasn’t God but  figured he had to be close.  He gave and he took: money, life, happiness, the whole kitchen sink.  If his interests were affected in the slightest there was hell to pay, and all too often… war.

He was often responsible for or played a large part in virtually every armed skirmish around the globe.  It was a necessity controlling the gun industry while at the same time being a major player in Sierra Leone.  Diamonds were lucrative and aided in his womanizing.  The man treated women not too unlike business.  They weren’t people, they were objects and disposable.  But then again, no one really qualified as human in the man’s chess board of a world.

Dinner was brought in.  The man sat still as a servant placed a napkin in his lap and cut food for him; lobster topped with Almas Beluga Caviar.  It was always delicious, but more importantly, expensive.

Most men would feel lonely in such seclusion but not the man.  He wanted nothing else.  Friends, family and relationships were simply a means to an end.

Fox News Weather Report (With Implications Italicized)

MINNEAPOLIS -- A winter storm that blew through the upper Midwest over the Presidents Day job killingly long weekend coated roads with socialist ice and snow and led airlines to cancel hundreds of flights.

Residents of Michigan, Minnesota and Wisconsin who didn't get the Monday holiday off faced what was expected to be a commute worse than Obamacare. Officials were urging people to stay off the roads if possible, rather than risk driving on icy roads or through wind-driven snow that is surely a metaphor for where progressivism had led this country.

Early Monday, the National Weather Service, as opposed better state-run weather services, said up to 10 inches of snow had fallen on parts of southern Michigan since the storm began Sunday afternoon. A winter storm warning remained in effect in southwest Michigan, with forecasters predicting up to 3 inches more of snow and warning that high winds could cause blowing snow and drifts.  Also causing drifts, NOT global warming.

In Madison, Wis., where tens of thousands of protesters but really, terrorists have rallied outside the Capitol for nearly a week to protest Gov. Scott Walker's great-American proposal to cut public employees' collective bargaining rights, snow, rain and sleet kept many away on Sunday where they likely gay married and worshipped Satan, although protesters, or again terrorists continued to cram into the rotunda.

The weather service said Sunday's storm blanketed much of central Wisconsin with 10 to 12 inches of snow. A further 2 inches of snow with some freezing drizzle was expected in Madison on Monday.  That oughtta freeze those God-forsaken commies back to hell!

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Wisconsin

Gerard was sick.  As sick as he had ever remembered being.  But he had to hide it.  His boss couldn’t know.  And even more importantly, they couldn’t.

Who were they?  They enforced the law.  It was illegal to be sick and Gerard was damn near guilty.

Once word got out it was over for him.  The black insurance truck would come and take him away before he became a risk to the system.  People couldn’t be expected to pay more for his failure to stay healthy.  Gerard was a leech, a parasite, an impending virus to good companies that simply wanted to make jobs.  And nothing else.

He felt shame for allowing his body to become such a socialist utopia but he wanted to live.  It is all my fault, he thought.  But Gerard knew if he survived he could start a business and make the world more capitalist.  He would do anything, deny workers the most basic rights to appease the lords in Washington.  If they just let him live.  They would not, though.

The news told of a protestor the other night, pleading for his life in front of the Speaker.  The Great Speaker would not be bothered, however, and simply struck him down with the large staff he carried everywhere.  It was pure gold with a large, ornate ruby on the top.  The news later praised his courage in facing down the progressive menace.

That was Gerard’s fate; being taken by them, or dying at the hands of the speaker himself.  His complexion had already become so pale you’d think him deathly if you saw him.  He coughed and sneezed and wheezed and hacked….

Maybe it was just the flu.  It didn’t matter.  People were taken by them for far less.  If lazy, freeloading Gerard showed weakness, they would lock him up and start the gas.  It was for the greater good, the greatest good. 

Low profits were the worst plague imaginable.  Locusts, falling skies, did not compare.  It stopped the flow of capital, endangered jobs, and hurt the economic outlook.  One man’s life was not worth the damage that would cause.  Gerard knew it himself, as the companies and the Great Speaker did.

Loudspeakers in the town square encouraged the sick and potential burdens to society to take their own lives.  Gerard had thought it over.  He knew he wanted to live.  If he compromised his conservative credentials, however, there was no turning back.  He might say he’d start a business and deny workers time-off and bathroom breaks, but it was a slippery slope.  If he lived and became a burden on the system for even one minute, he’d end up giving workers healthcare and God forbid, allow a union.  It had to end.

Gerard opened up a velvet case, containing his gun.  It was mandatory for every citizen to have.

He pointed it inside his mouth.  Sensors inside the barrel began ticking to determine he was not killing a CEO or public leader.

“Suicide approved,” it said before firing the bullet into his brain.  “Scum neutralized.”

Christina Green: The Face of Hope

The following in a fictionalized account of the last day of the life of Christina Green.  May her memory and spirit live on.

It was a Saturday.  Children in the neighborhood were playing catch in what was chilly weather for an Arizona morning.  Christina had woken up early but not to join them.  She was going with a neighbor to see her legislator Gabrielle Giffords.  Christina had been obsessed with politics since her election to student president at Mesa Verda Elementary School.

She saw it as a calling.  Christina Taylor Green had been born on September 11, 2001.  Rising from the ashes of that tragedy had inspired her to lead and make a difference in the world.  That her face was featured in the book Faces of Hope: Babies Born on 9/11 only furthered her resolve.  She was what was in essence a new generation, removed from the era of the comparatively peaceful and much more prosperous 1990s.

           

The campaign of Barack Obama made her realize that even at a young age she could not sit idly by and wait for others to take charge.  She had a duty to peers and those around her.  Christina decided she would speak to and learn from everyone she could.

           

Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords, commonly known as Gabby, was emblematic of the kind of person Christina aspired to be one day.  She, a liberal, had won reelection in remarkably conservative district.  Even more remarkably she had done so without compromising her integrity.  She believed everyone should access to affordable healthcare and she stood by it.  The politics were against her and a great deal of the public.  A brick had even been thrown through her window at one point.  But she remained undeterred by violence.  The right thing was most important and she would do whatever it took for the people of her district and in a larger sense the nation to not live in fear of illness bringing them down into financial ruin.

           

Going through that legacy of Giffords in her head Christina packed notepads into a backpack, along with pens and pencils.  She was confident she would be taking notes at some point and it was better to be safe than sorry.  Did she need a book?  The car ride would only be a few minutes.  Christina looked at her large stack.  Which one, if any?  There was a large manuscript on healthcare data.  She grabbed it.  Representative Giffords might give her some useful insights when they met.

           

The car ride took longer than she thought it would.  Maybe it was the anticipation.  Things had moved so fast for her.  Months before she had just started the third grade.  Now she was a leader; the only girl on an otherwise all-boys little league team.  Her father had been especially proud of the latter.  His father had been a manager for the Phillies and baseball seemed to run inside the Green bloodline.

           

“Auntie” she said to her neighbor, whom she about as close to as any relative.  “How much longer?”

           

“Any minute now,” she replied, getting ready to merge.

           

The wait was agonizing as much as she loved spending time with her aunt.  They got closer, however, even if Christina did not quite feel that way.  She had been shopping at the Safeway they were going to a hundred times.  They had bought groceries, medicine and countless other everyday items.  But Christina felt she was going there for the very first time.  She gasped when it came into view, as if the location had just sprung up.

           

Her aunt parked the car.  It was not terribly crowded.  There could not have been more than twenty people or so, with a lot of them being Giffords staff.

           

Christina practically bolted out of the car.  Her neighbor had a laugh, telling her to wait up.  Christina realized her error and went back to walk with her.  They had a long discussion about solar power that stretched into the topic of immigration.  Christina favored amnesty but her aunt just wasn’t sure if that was the right way to go about it.

           

“We’re here” her aunt finally said as they approached the front of the Safeway store.

           

Aides were busy setting up a table and connecting the microphone.  It looked like it would be a while.  Christina got out her book on healthcare data.  More than 50 million Americans and more than 7 million children were living without health insurance.  37% of low-wage workers in 2008 had no insurance, private or public.

           

Gabrielle approached the crowd and started speaking.  In a fury Christina raced to get out her notepad, lest she miss something important.  She looked up to see a man she recognized greeting the congresswoman.  He was a federal judge and Christina recalled seeing him on television once.  There had been a death threat against him for his stance on a particular case.  The details escaped Christina at the moment, however.

           

Something strange was happening.  Christina could no longer see Congresswoman Giffords.  An incredible noise echoed through the crowd.  She pushed her way through much larger adults to see her favorite legislature hit the ground.  Another ear piercing sound.  Christina’s ear drums rang.  Someone else was down.  Was it the judge, or an aide?  She was in shock, she could not move.  A man turned to face her.

           

Christina felt her chest.  It was a strange sensation.  Pain seemed only momentary.  Drowsiness took hold of her.  The world around became a blur.  The shape of a man stepped in front of a woman.  He was likely a husband, possibly her sibling.  Another blast, followed by what might have been ten or twenty more.  A group of two or three aides at long last tackled the gunman as he tried to flee.  Christina closed her eyes and when she opened them the scene was gone.

           

She was in her grandma’s arms again.  An aide was there, the judge and what looked like eight others.  One of them she recognized immediately as Representative Giffords.  She had had so much to ask her before and now it all seemed unimportant.

           

“Mrs. Giffords,” she began, still being held by her grandmother.  She could only think of one thing to say, however.  “Where are we?”

           

“I can’t be sure…” She replied.

           

Different people began to disappear.  Ten people soon became seven.  And it seemed as if Representative Giffords was becoming less pale.  She came over and she held Christina’s hand.  It was warm compared to hers which was getting colder by the second.

           

“What had you come to ask me today?” She inquired with a smile.

           

“I was just elected president of the Mesa Verda student council last year.  I felt so inspired by Obama and your stance on healthcare.”

           

“That’s a wonderful accomplishment.  I was never president.”

           

They shared a laugh.  Gabby grabbed Christina’s shoulder and got down to eye level with her.

           

“But that’s hardly a question.  What did you really want to say today?”

           

“So much… it really seems impossible to recall everything anymore.  I really wanted the country to come together again like they did the day I was born.”

           

“I think it will” said Gabby.  She began fading like the others.  But her grasp was just as strong as ever, comforting Christina.

           

“Wait,” said Christina, before she left completely, “what did you think of Michael Moore’s documentary Sick-o?”

           

“Enlightening,” said Gabby before returning back to Earth.

Wall Street Don't Tread on Me

Wall Street Don't Tread on Me

.

By nature the largest giants are the clumsiest

Crushing, stepping on those small

Not noticing their plight below.

Wall Street don’t tread on me

Not in my homeland of the free!

Asteroids clash destroying worlds

Sometimes missing by an inch or hair -

Leaving doubt to flood the continents.

Wall Street don’t tread on me

Let us keep our homeland of the free!

I recall of a school of fish

That scattered as an Orca came;

These troubled times, it sums up great.

Wall Street please don’t tread on me,

And leave, leave, the purple mountain majesties!

Give back our amber waves of grain!

And while you're at it, crown thy good with brotherhood. That'd be good..