Sunday, November 6, 2011

Class Assignment on MLK's Letter from Birmingham Jail

Not Preventing Injustice Supports Injustice: Targeting the Audience Non-Violently
            “We will have to repent in this generation not merely for the hateful words and actions of the bad people but for the appalling silence of the good people” (579). Passive silence is equal in atrocity and injustice as actions of those unmoral. To sit by and observe an act of violation against human rights would be the same as to put oneself in the shoes of those committing the violation. When trying to reform or protest all groups, directly involved or not, must participate. There proves extreme power in peoples opinions and beliefs regardless of whether or not they are effected.
            Martin Luther King Jr. (MLK Jr.) makes an indisputable point in his Letter from Birmingham Jail addressing the white moderates of the country whom are those that sit by and witness the discriminating events before them while doing nil. MLK Jr. is labeled an extremist and imprisoned due to a method of non-violent protesting, whilst African Americans are being violently abused by the very people that sentenced his entrapment. In his quote he states how when looking back on history the white moderates who chose not to play a role in the movement will be the ones responsible for tragedy.
            Were those good that express “appalling silence” to stand up and represent their beliefs then history would be significantly different. MLK Jr. would gain much more praise and be heavily supported in his efforts to protest non-violently as a means to obtain ultimate peace among the races of the country. While other radical groups chose different approaches such as support gained through violent propaganda, MLK Jr. devised an approach that would harm no one. The reason for the aggressive suffocation of Black Nationalists is due to minimum amounts of persons with authority who opposed the injustice actually standing up for what they believe in and revolting against the wrong actions being committed.
            Racial indifferences play an effect on people nationally, not just of African ethnicity as MLK Jr. references when stating, “Consciously or unconsciously, he has been caught up by the Zeitgesit, and with his black brothers of Africa and his brown and yellow brothers of Asia, South America and the Caribbean, the United States Negro is moving with a sense of great urgency toward the promised land of racial justice” (580). This is prevalent in Sherman Alexie’s A Good Story where Alexie discusses the hardships of discriminations that American Indians face through the rarity of a good story. Alexie has his character tell a story within a story that elaborates on the occasion of a not to frequent good story about a boy who skips out on his field trip to make the day of an old man who looks forward only to seeing the children at the end of the day. The story is relevant to MLK Juniors message due to the similar themes of oppression that American Indians face as well.
            To connect his message to all peoples MLK Jr. references another example of pacifistic methods to execute ways to obtaining an ultimate goal that does not include force by quoting another extremist Jesus, “Love you enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you” (581). Here MLK Jr. uses another example of non-violent action said by a man that the majority of the country worships to justify his approach to reaching peace, and doing so in a way that is relatable to people of all colors.
By stating this quotation in a strong message against white moderates MLK Jr.  poignantly directs his frustration and disappointment towards the cowardice and lame of the country that reside in their comfort zone without making efforts to give their due part. MLK Jr. uses a method of guilt tripping to the audience he addresses by not directly attacking them, but instead portraying his opinion and sadness on the fact that what he speaks of occurs. Not only does he direct his message towards white moderates in order for them to recognize their wrong, but he also addresses the issue so that those who do not fully comprehend the situation may learn where the core of the dilemma resides.
Writing Strategy: Martin Luther King Jr. uses the strategy of targeting his audience indirectly with a message of retrospect. He addresses them as if he were to after the events discussed have passed. By doing this he effectively conveys his opinion of the targeting audience in a way that would leave a direct impact on the guilty person reading his letter.
            This technique intrigues me due to the way it grabs the reader. In a persuasive piece this technique of address can prove useful in my own writing if I were to want to sincerely target a reader with the message I were trying to present.
            The impact of MLK Juniors words are also important for me as a writer to analyze because of it firm connection to those reading it. His message does not beat around the bush and is incredibly direct in meaning, something I should learn to develop in my own writing.


I Understand: Connecting Concepts to the Author and Audience
“Concepts are the special terms, the jargon, that insiders use and that anyone who wants to become part of the conversation needs to learn (128).” They are what help us understand and assess. Conceptions act as an invaluable relatable learning material. A universal tool used to connect with individuals of certain interest bringing ideals into their own realm. A point may be made in argument to a group of people pointing out different concepts to different people when elaborating on a subject. Concepts are relayed through connecting topics of relation to the reader.
            In the case of Linh Kieu Ngo’s essay on cannibalism, Cannibalism: It Still Exists, he discusses the concept of cannibalism being more than just a method of survival. The idea that the purpose expands beyond the constraints of desperate times and can be known to actually be practiced for purposes of diet and religion. Here Ngo uses concept to enlighten those ignorant of cannibalisms roots to show the prevalence in our history.
            Examples are made through conceptions. In Ngo’s essay he depicts a scenario that happened to Vietnamese refugees escaping the communist grips of Vietnam. Fleeing away from their country they become stranded on boat and resort to eating human flesh in order for survival. Using the real time circumstance of desperation Ngo is connected to the reader, causing them to understand the drive for such an act. Through concept he causes the reader to comprehend his information rather than stating cannibalism may be used for survival without example.
            A variety of situations over the course of history depicted in the essay give visual connection to the concept being discussed concerning cannibalism. The learning connection of giving several anecdotes to illustrate the origins and purpose for cannibalism. Necessary examples of concept give the reader something to absorb. Grasping a subject can prove difficult without a portrait to hold onto.
            Concept connection becomes exemplified again in Rich A. Friedman’s piece, Born to Be Happy, Through a Twist of Human Hard Wire, when he touches upon the subject posing a psychiatric mirror to chronic depression, hyerthymia. Hyperthymia causes certain individuals to have a constant positive disposition and outlook on life. Friedman proposes the concept of how a person goes about achieving happiness. He does this by detailing both ends of the spectrum and elaborating on their causes. Using examples of depressed dysthmia patients Friedman relates the disposition of those who are affected by hyperthymia, connecting the concept using relatable terms.
A concept of how the application of storytelling affects the evolution of the human race may be done effectively through connecting example. In Jeremy Hsu’s The Secrets of Storytelling: Why We Love a Good Yarn he portrays the universality of storytelling through cultures throughout history using references from prehistory hieroglyphics to modern day movies. A concept developed through relating topics.
            The special terms of concepts provide explanation via the reader’s interests. The use of such a tool acts as a vital task for the author to connect to their audience. The strategy allows their message to be conveyed using a strategy that integrates your idea into the reader life.

Writing Strategy: The persuasive piece opens with a statement that directly describes what the essay will discuss, almost as if acting as a thesis. While grabbing the reader’s attention the sentence also sharply tells the reader what will be argued. This technique gives the essay a strong informative feel that reassures the topic. After reading the first line I became intrigued in the topic of concepts and how they play a role in language and life. The topic sentence molds to not only the whole piece, but the pieces that follow.
            This technique can be used in multiple ways in my own writing. I can use the strategy to strengthen my introduction paragraph, strengthening my thesis. By instantly grabbing the reader with what the essay elaborates on firmly, I can lead into a powerful thesis that has clarity.
            I may also take advantage of this technique when writing fiction. Were I to write a narrative in first person I could begin with a statement that immediately opens with what I will discuss, rather than a technique that grabs the reader imprecisely.

Who I Am As a Reader

New knowledge is the most valuable commodity on earth. The more truth we have to work with, the richer we become.
-Kurt Vonnegut, Breakfast of Champions.
I cherish and thrive on reading. I use reading as a tool, a friend, and a teacher. Over the period of my maturation reading has followed beside me. Reading defines attribute, hobby, and occupation. In essence, what I read describes the kind of person I am, and why. Whether due to wanting a smile or to better my career, I read because of my love for comedy, story, and ways to produce more sophisticated and technical forms of writing.
Everyone loves a loud laugh. I find my laughter amongst novels of witty genius. Humor integrated into the text glues a book to your hand, not allowing the story to be closed until the end. Absurd hilariousness that embodies The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy by Douglass Adams targets my laughter likings precisely, “This planet has — or rather had — a problem, which was this: most of the people living on it were unhappy for pretty much all of the time. Many solutions were suggested for this problem, but most of these were largely concerned with the movement of small green pieces of paper, which was odd because on the whole it wasn't the small green pieces of paper that were unhappy.” A quote derived from the novels introduction that chases the heart that homes my laughs. Douglass captures the reader with such a mundane sense of humor that the average person just would not think of. The effect results in you slapping your knee and crying. The idea of characterizing money seems weird and hysterical. Douglass Adam’s became the foundation for why I read for laughs. Executed with grace, lathered with wit and intelligence. A novel that will make you chuckle will be a novel you court.
Humorous novels capture your love in several ways, one of them being to learn. I read to laugh, as well as to make others laugh. Reading humor in a way can be like a manual for funniness. By reading comedic literature you can pick up on witty concepts and learn how to use that humor yourself. It teaches personal comedic value. Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughter House Five plays on how we perceive humor. Rather than just plain slapstick comedy, he approaches with a different technique. Using dry, dark, and ironic humor Vonnegut makes laughs when the reader may not know if they should be. A famous line by him, “So it goes.” A depressing, grim, and also funny quote used throughout the entire novel. I am amazed by the quotes universal nature and ingeniousness. It adds a lighthearted tone to all the drama that surrounds the book and our lives. Used both when mundane events happen, as well as when someone passed. Vonnegut uses it so often that it becomes silly, like expected. An aspect such as that teaches you how humor can be found in so many different ways. Literature exposes you to varieties of forms that you may not experience in your everyday interactions.
Adventure also is an aspect of reading that sucks myself in. Traversing across country, or exploring a new world fascinates me. How people are able to create these alternate realities that function almost too realistically. It probes incredibly interesting delving into an adventure of the author’s dreams. Learning about how their mind works and comparing your dreams of story to theirs. When young I would develop wild stories, act them out, or draw about them. As I aged I began to instead write about them, decent or not. When I read other stories of adventure I become sucked in because of the creativity of some authors. The first novel that really pulled me into its adventure I discovered in my English class, Walter D. Myers Fallen Angels, detailing the experience of a platoon in Vietnam. The story is told through the narrative of an eighteen-year-old boy as his self and his company get stranded throughout the jungle. It marks an adventure I could not even make up, for its depiction of war and terror becomes so real and so personal. A novel such as that truly explains an author experiences. The main character gets involved in battle after battle that painfully tears apart his platoon, killing everyone around him. During an investigation of the village one of the main characters close companions wanders in a local. As he enters an enemy surprises him from under a rug and attempts to fire upon him. Stunned because the enemy’s gun has jammed he freezes and a moment goes by that they share right before the soldier of the platoon brutally mutilates the enemy’s face with several clips of ammunition. Events like these are difficult to replicate for their power it instills in the reader. A very strong hollow feeling gets put into the reader as they get into the adventure of the cruel world soldiers faced in Vietnam. I crave those adventures to try and look into the eyes of others.
Not only does adventure fuel my interests, but it also offers a place for myself to escape to. A sanctuary to lose yourself in, to relax and to enjoy simple fun. When I read fiction to escape I enjoy lighthearted engaging novels such as Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson and the Olympian Series, an adventure of a twelve-year-old boy who radically discovers his relationship as the son to the Greek god Zeus in modern day. As I read the series I became completely integrated and lost in the adventure as the boy and his company channel through all the greatest Greek legends in their own brilliant fictional world. Rick Riordan with his extensive knowledge of Greek mythology develops an alternate world in present day that becomes so believable you wish you could experience it. In the first novel of the series The Lightning Thief the main character sends off to retrieve Zeus’s symbol of power, the master lightning bolt. As the main character escapades through Greek mythological America I felt that the world Riordan creates. I wish it were true, I lose myself and become focused on only his world. In a scene where the main character stumbles upon a roadside curio-shop in upstate New York, he gets introduced to disguised Medusa. Medusa veils herself as the owner of the shop making her character seem so believable. The way Riordan can integrate the two cultures absorbs you. Escaping into an adventure empowers your own.
Reading offers both recreational and professional uses for me. A primary reason that I delve myself into literature it to develop techniques and strategies of other writers. When I read I try to learn ways that authors use to grab readers attention so I may incorporate that same usage in my own writing. Reading lends itself as my teacher to guide me to reach my ultimate goal of becoming a professional writer. Due to my age I have not yet experienced life to the fullest so there are topics and concepts I cannot yet elaborate on. Through reading a wide variety of literature I can touch upon such concepts. Grow from teaching myself about their experiences. A novel that fascinates me for its unbelievably well written intricate genius is Stieg Larsson’s A Girl with a Dragon Tattoo, about of series of characters with intertwining conflicts that shake you when they clash. The way Larsson perfectly uses dark theme and character to pull the reader into his sadistic world. Using profound knowledge of the journalism world he was apart of and the culture of Sweden the reader becomes engrossed. Using sex and murder and vengeance Larsson never lets his readers go in a way that executes exactly how it should. The main character leaves on a quest to discover a long forgotten murder mystery in an old Swedish town. When he first begins to catch on to a trail, Larsson throws curve balls at the reader that make you unable to figure out where the novel will take you next. I want to be able to write using that genius. I want to develop a natural skill for words that allows me to hold the reader in and dictate when I want them to wander and when I want them to be grabbed.
Learning how to develop characters contributes an amazing aspect of reading. I read to learn about the various types of people, attributes, cultures, characteristics, so in my own writing I may compile all the knowledge I gained from reading and channel it. A character makes or breaks a story; they must be real and must make a connection to the reader. My ability to write characters is strengthened by every novel I read. In the infamous graphic novels written by Art Spiegelman Maus I & II, Art depicts a story of the holocaust through his grandfather. Using mice as Jews and cats and Germans Art creates this immediate segregation of characters. The characters Art and his Grandfather are so amazing because they are so real. As you read through the novel you become bonded with the characters, become upset when they do, become happy as they do. While they lay to waste in the concentration camp Auschwitz you sympathize for them. When they are abused and tortured and cheated of life you become angry. After you put down the novel when you come to the end you feel as if you know the characters. To develop such a strong bond between character and reader is what will make you a successful writer. It is what I need to perfect and experiment with. I cherish and thrive on reading. I use reading as a tool, a friend, and a teacher. Over the period of my maturation reading has followed beside me. It is a defining attribute, hobby, and occupation. In essence, what I read describes the kind of person I am, and why. Whether it be due to wanting a smile or to better my career, I read because of my love for comedy, adventure, and ways to produce more sophisticated and technical forms of writing.

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Breasts in Bras

A strong look is presented in the firm
but jiggling hold they mold in the folds
 of clothes shaped like cups bringing moods- so
 giddy and giddy and smiling all
day with no way to be upset, when in
front of me the jiggling hold relieves
stress, worry but brings fun-
I want to release
the hold to make firm hang and sway back and
forth, side to side, different directions,
 where ever I wish to push them, pull or

squish them, ripping the cupped cloth surrounding
them to free them from the attractive prison
they reside in, but some part of me wishes
not to because they look absolutely
beautiful wrapped in lingerie.

George, George’s George, George’s George’s George.

The only one who inhabits the planet is a large boyish man probably the age of twenty or thirty. His name is George.
The planets name is George too, ironically. It consists of a pillar of rock that juts about four miles from the world’s core that is roughly ten meters in radius. On top of this pillar stands George. Surrounding George and his pillar is a vast army of crystallized watery ice clouds. Revolving George, the planet, is a gargantuan yellow sun. His name is Sun George.
Sun George is quite a happy sun, being assigned to only one planet to revolve around, which is George. He does not have to work very much so the majority of his time can be spent lounging in space drinking a warm tea and enjoying the scenery.
Planet George is not nearly as content with its self as his sun. Most of his time is spent in wading in his own confused anxiety. There is no explanation why he is primarily cloud with the exception of one perfect cylindrical pillar jutting straight out of its core. George would say it is because he likes it this way; George the man of course. He has never taken into consideration how the rock pillar feels however. What is not so apparent to George is that the pillar is severely lonesome. Living amongst only clouds, the pillar does not get to socialize with others of his genetic type, being rocks. This depresses the pillar extensively. Many times he has been close to committing what the pillar calls “rock suicide”. In George’s terms that means collapsing, and with it George, who lives atop its surface.
Were the pillar to do this then a chain of unfortunate events would fall into accord. Sun George would be most upset because he no longer would have a planet to revolve around. He no longer would have a planet to revolve around because Planet George would no longer exist. Planet George would no longer exist because George would most likely be killed by the four-mile fall into Planet George’s core. With no George in the picture there is no Planet George. Thus it would be a rather obscene action on the pillars part if he were to commit such an act.
Unfortunately the pillar did commit his act of suicide. However,
George did not fall to his demise. He did however fall though.
This story is about the very event of George’s descent into Planet George’s core.

There once was a banana found drifting in an obscure region of space. The banana had questions about how it had gotten there. He also wanted to know what was the dreary planet that was in the foreground of his vision, as well as the vibrant sun next to him. While the banana pondered these questions he also contemplated the definition of reality. Soon it found itself plummeting towards the very unfriendly looking surface of the planet.
The planet and sun that the banana was witnessing turned out to in fact be George and his sun. At this time George the man was still standing safely on his rock pillar. He too thought it was peculiar that there would be a banana roaming the vacancy of his atmosphere. When George saw the poor deserted banana alone, falling to inevitable doom he wondered what it would taste like.
Next thing the banana knew he was no longer dropping. Rather he was in the hand of George the man, being peeled, prepared to be eaten as an exquisite treat. It was then that the banana understood the meaning of reality and the mystery to existence. The banana came to a very correct conclusion that life is as whatever one makes it to be. So at that moment the banana imagined itself as a voluptuous tree in the midst of other voluptuous trees, all filled with plump ripe bushels of bananas. Unfortunately the banana did not yet uncover the inconvenient truth to his very correct theory. Which is that life is whatever one makes it to be, but sometimes what one makes it to be is not quite reality. In the bananas case this was one of those times.
Although he thought he was busty banana tree, he was not. He was eaten,
by George.
However, it was eaten when it believed to be pleasantly lounging among his kin. It was a good death.

The banana was not the first to discover this epiphany of life. George the man had crossed paths with such knowledge rather long ago.
He was on vacation in Russia. Not many would call Russia vacation although. While in a bar George was indulging on a quaint cup of tea. His favorite tea. English Earl Grey. And then it hit him. The mystery of all life and existence.
At that instance George wished to be on atop a rock pillar besieged by infinite amounts of clouds on his personal planet with endless day and a peeled banana in his hand. And he was.
Unluckily for George, it was also at that instance that depression became rather much for the pillar of rock. On the final bite taken from the banana the pillar committed his final hoorah.
And down the pillar went, rock and all. And with it,
George had roughly sixty seconds before his abrupt plummet deep into the ground of George the planet ended.
George was however curiously excited to meet the ground of George the planet, he had never seen it before. What an interesting experience he thought. He pondered what it might look like.
What it feels like.
He could not wait to find if there even was any sort of ground at all. After all he has lived there his whole life and not yet seen it. He imagined the possibility of a whole civilization that had been hidden amongst the clouds.
Little Englishmen laying about in the grass on café chairs drinking English Earl Grey. Or what if there was no civilization, but endless quantities of English Earl Grey reserved for him personally.
George realized the possibilities could be infinite. The planet George however knew what actually lay at the bottom. And it hadn’t the least to do with earl grey tea. He knew that George was in for a rather unpleasant surprise. The thought of ruining the man’s innocent excitement for what may lay at the ground level saddened George the planet. He then thought about the distresses the pillar of rock had experienced prior to his act of suicide. It was then that it occurred to George the planet that he too suffered from similar social distresses. The thought that he had lived alone all these years with no companionship other than George the man made him unusually upset. All George the man does is stare into space, wishing about bananas and other tasty treats.
When George reached the end to his lengthy fall he was indeed not greeted by little Englishmen with tea. He still thought it would be quite neat though.
What had greeted him gave George a refurbished perspective of his theory of life. It made him laugh under his breath at first and soon turned into a monstrous chuckle. One that would pair most appropriately to a patient of an insane asylum.
In fact, George was greeted by a virtually identical pillar of rock suspended in virtually identical clouds to what looked to George miles above the surface. And lay atop the pillar was again, George.
At that point in time George looked up at the ceiling of Planet George, perplexed. The planet however knew exactly why such a random occurrence happened. It is an event that the planet has witnessed several times before when the man has fallen from his point in the clouds.
George the planet then grew inevitably tired.
Eventually so did the new rock pillar. And soon enough that rock pillar would begin to feel the burdens of the rock pillar before him, and the one before him. And just as the others before him did, he too will follow in their self-destructive footsteps.
And George will continue to inquire about the bottom of George.

My Eyes Into Hers

A boy caught a glimpse of a flower several years ago
causing him to notice the beat of his heart,
He did not know why, it just happened, the flower was a
Radiant beautiful – modeling phenomenal flawless finesse,

hesitating at first, a boy approached the flower
kissed the flower, tasting its irresistible taste
and met the flower again in seven hundred and thirty days,

Surprised was a boy when the flower had blossomed
made with even more
Power color and wonder,
Twisting its dance in the summer light the flower
trapped a boy with its sight of voluptuous glisten,

Every dawn rising, Each night falling
a boy would ponder his new wonder about
his flower,
So enamored by a touch of scent, berry kiss churned with coconuts
His favorite,
Flowers around his flower were cast under
by its magnificent pedals with
Gorgeous powerful bloom,
Unbelievably vigilant and resilient to the rough environment encasing it
absorbing every detriment to its predicament, turning problems on to their stomach in order to benefit,
Mesmerizing amazement dropped in driblets from its essence,
He began to speak to the flower, lending it
a penny of his thoughts two hundred times a day
in varieties of ways,

The flower kept him endless company, brightening his day,
giving him the cork to plug that uncomfortable lingering space,
offering what had made him change into a person a boy is proud to say is better,


On a particular evening the silence fell, the
Flower spoke back to the boy,
Oh how the flower could sing its speech with
such graceful way and praise,
It softly hummed “comfortable” “trust”,
His flower showed him his place in a place he has always faced, lost until guided,
in its presence a boys lips tickled feverishly with gloss
hands laughed fiendishly at hysterical thoughts
smile spoke words of lust,
A picture of the flower wrote thousands of sensations and a single declaration labeled

Unique are the pedals drenched in pretty purple blue shades
Comparable if not it- an angel
A sculpture of bliss- the greatest kiss of connection,
Every feature better than the next cycling round and round, unable to chose which one bests, for they all are the best,
The face of the flower; clear crystal sky blue and pearl white- creating tsunami’s of beauty crashing towards its body of smooth silk parts a boy needs to touch
For every touch reminds him of how much he can love
fulfilling his lust for its thoughts,

A boy now holds the flower to his heart now noticing why the abnormal beat,
such an anomaly caused a boy to be so swiftly swept of his feet at a flower, whom he can reveal his identity of serenity to,
Pinned to his left breast coat pocket the flower will forever stay, for the boy would claim that whether in physical form or not the flower has left its mark
Laid its change upon his brain for the best
Made him sane again amongst deranged craze,
Inducing on him a sense of content in his world regardless of how poor it becomes as long as the flower remains where it stays
lounging against his cloth
 with its glorious coat of a perfect the boy has difficulty articulating,
“Perfect” does not do the flower justice, for to him it goes much deeper
the closest he can get to describing his flower is Happiness

Pure Happiness.

Apathy is Back in Style

Apathy is our kingdoms catastrophe
blasting away seamless history
indulging in nil

Destroying the genes of humanity by passing on tales and woes of the lazy,
who simply cease to see the vitality in prosperity of the epic empire and conquering country proving absolutely dominant once upon a time
from sea to sea,

There used to be words unrelated to those of lethargy
to describe our godly thievery we label “conquering,
ingenious, innovative, brave”

Now what is left is a crippled stretch of land sentenced to death with lassitude
covering every longitude and latitude,

Apathy’s our mess.


A fly in a jar
stuck in the jar
with many other flies
sealed tight,

Grouped in a jar
with no practical space to breathe
Life is a jar,
What do I actually need?
Anxiety is the air
where the fly is forced to be,

Some band together
walk from one side to another
others isolated
with few bouncing from the choices left and right,

A fly stands undecided,
Even when more decisive and
than all.


Dormant in class my universe wanders to experiences I can only imagine, but have never felt nor smelled or heard,
Only see in the dreamy haze of structured memories rotating in my head like a rolodex sped forward so veraciously that a picture can only be held in thought for the moment the picture is present and not a moment more,
Attempting to feel a place or person or thing you’ve never felt before, only wish to,
To try and lie to yourself to make believe what not true, true.


A foggy confused feeling mixed in
with swirling discomfort and irregular
breathing leaving as I struggle in-
tensely out of that mess of sheets and fleet
of pillows that I call bed, Leaping from
its mold in a dramatic rush to climb
into the scolding sprinkling water I
call shower is much like writing this ran-
dom poem, a very brisk need to quickly
speed out the door with a shirt balled in
my palm and falling out of my un-
zipped pants,
nose diving into the car re-
lieved that the dramatic rush is coming
to a close, until you notice you’ve
forgotten your drawers

Imperative to win my morning race
 so my teacher does not win the right to
 look me in my mug to tell me I’m a
 lazy lug, The overdues on
my class attendance sentence how well I
do on this poem
For this is the class I write too

Ironically my morning routine
 is put in fast forward to cruise out the
 door in similar speed to how I fran-
-tically sketch this poem with a hand
 vigorously trembling from the pace
 I write to where I must go,

I struggle to run out my home each weight-
ed morning the same way I struggle to
muster words with this pen in
my hand strenuously creating with
 this restricting syllable meter.

A Sad Song

Bass drum
Bass drum,
Heavy wailing hum
initiating the wake up call to the uneducated bum who let himself out to be hung
by the holy machine
and those once called Big Nurse,

by who he is-
            an aggravated kid with no intelligence to cultivate what he lost,

by righteous God who represented a figure in command, not actually holy, but still something to place faith in to save him,

by pure arrogance corroding and destroying the life he now won’t live,
Instead sent to the pit to be a combine in line with the rest of the combines
working with the machine

Not the individual wealthy free thinker he pictured he’d be, dressed in gold, bathing in silver and crystal
eating emerald, dining with William and Juliet,
lounging about with the Queen Elizabeths,

continues on this sad song of a seed gone so wrong,
falling south into the mouth of futureless averageness
where no one hears the strumming hum of his bass drum.