Monday, February 26, 2018

Morphine and Shot Guns

When the lateral combat of debris
heaves from their bustling ecstasies
It becomes the rupture-
colloquial and lopsided,

crossbones  shudder
from storm to storm, and scoop
over its deceptive grindstone,

banks of fallacies
chew like greyhounds, their
fermentation dawns threadbare
decay

while the grizzled gospel
of  milky morphine
tiptoe through toothy
acronyms with shot guns.

Thursday, February 22, 2018

Can You Trust the Vision?

I learned not to interfere with the visions- not to change the outcomes. Because it never worked out as Granmama would always tell me. But this one was different.

My adult,  bloodied,  daughter, Jay-Lynee, lay on the road. The knife-wielder  had brown-almost-black eyes and elfish ears. Connor.

Maybe it won’t come true-  my visions are never wrong. 

As I drove home, Conner chased his ball out into the road. He stopped.

I could have stopped; I had plenty of time to stop.

But...
the sun was in my eyes; I didn’t see him.

His five-year-old body broke under my tires.

Saturday, February 17, 2018

What the Fuck?

It's been more than a week since I written... and a lot has happened so many things have gone on. All I have to say is What the fuck?

First, Trump wants to give SNAP recipients food boxes instead of EBT payment because it would save money? Reading many of the comments, I just have to scratch my head and think WHAT THE FUCK 

Why do so many people hate poor people and people on SNAP?  Popular comments: Lobster. Well I don't know about you, but my local grocery stores don't carry lobster. The one offers lobster certain times of the year, you have to preoder and it is cooked, and because a rotisserie chicken is not covered then neither is steamed lobster. I have seen lobster tails go for about $5 a piece, not cheap like Ramen but not exactly expensive either. Steak. Well many grocery stores have sales, I often can buy steak for $4 a pound on sale. I guess SNAP people shouldn't buy stuff on sale.

Some people who get SNAP: Many hourly Walmart workers, military families, working poor. Which means that these people probably also have to pay for food because they are not getting thousands of dollars in SNAP.

I worked at Walmart and sure SNAP people would get snack and soda. Many and I mean many are getting cheap processed food like : On Cor family dinners typically run $2-3 a box and come in several flavors, canned pasta, canned soups, Ramen noodles, processed meats like hot dogs, chicken nuggets and patties. Oh that is so healthy, but cheap so that food is okay. Facebook commentors all say the same thing until a military wife says she used SNAP to buy steaks because her husband was coming home and the tone changes. If you are going to shit on SNAP users then shit on all of them.

Speaking of military- Congress wants to beef the defense budget and how much is actually going to pay increases for service people? Not enough not to be SNAP users. Gosh, here in America, we loves our military so much until they want a pay increase.

On February 15, 2018 there was another mass shooting. Some 19 year old dip shit got himself an AR 15 and killed 17 people and injured many others. WHAT THE FUCK Why is this even common place? Why do we still have military grade weapons available to any Tom, Dick or Jane. But at least the dipshit got to exercise his rights to buy a semiautomatic. It is unfortunate those 17 no longer have a right to life.

WHAT THE FUCK is wrong with people? Why is this okay? Inaction is pretty much saying it is okay.

Okay, this country pisses me off. It should piss you off. This how we treat each other?  This how we became a world leader? Go on tell me to move, because I don't give a fuck. Stand back and take a look at the world around and really see it for what it is. And maybe your rosy colored glasses will fall off.

Till next time...

Thursday, February 8, 2018

Fireflies in February

The night sky is a patchwork of stars and cloud mass. Crusty snow lays on the grass and the road appears to be slick in headlights. Silence is everywhere. In the distance, semis cruise on the highway to somewhere else. And I want to be writing.

I woke this morning, and it was rush rush. Before I knew it, half my day disappeared. Before I knew it, my week break is already almost over. I woke up this morning and realized February is a going to be bitch and soon it will be March.

I dream in words; they are like fireflies in the forest, there but never found. I think about the weekend we went camping at Laurel Hill State Park in Somerset. Our cabin was the last in the row closest to the trees. And we stood on the porch and watched the forest light up in yellow-green phosphorescent Morse code. I tried to take a video, but it wasn't sensitive enough. It felt like a million fireflies surrounding us, telling us secrets we wouldn't understand.

I want to be writing. And yet, when the time comes, I find myself lost in another plane. I don't where I am sometimes, at least mentally. I wrote in a journal entry for my one class this last term, that biggest obstacle to writing is myself. Half the time I don't even know why I get in my own way. There aren't enough therapists to go around for that one.

Here I am on this February night, thinking about poetry, stories, Stirling and friends, Holly and friends, while my current favorite songs are on repeat and the silence creeps into my bones, even the oil furnace sounds like it is another dimension. All I can seem to do is daydream about fireflies in the summer.