EFFECTS OF CHILD ABUSE ON PERFORMANCE OF PRIMARY SCHOOL IN KAPYEMIT WARD, TURBO CONSTITUENCY, UASIN-GISHU COUNTY.





BY
ERICK NYAKUNDI
KIS/03013/14




A RESEARCH PROJECTSUBMITED TO THE SCHOOL OF ARTS AND SOCIAL SCIENCES, DEPARTMENT OF SOCIOLOGY AND PSYCHOLOGY IN THE PARTIAL FULFILMENT FOR THE AWARD OF THE DEGREE OF BACHELOR OF SOCIOLOGY



MAY, 2014

DECLARATION

I, the undersigned, declare that this project is my original work and that it has not been presented in any other university or institution for academic credit.

Signature...............................................­..... Date...................................
ERICK NYAKUNDI
KIS/03013/14






SUPERVISOR
This project has been submitted for examination with my approval as university supervisor
DR. W. O. ABUYA
Signature..................................................­.. Date....................................




DEDICATION
I dedicate this work to my Dad, Mom, my sister Lydia and my lovely brother Dun who contributed in one way or another to make this project to be successful.


















ACKNOWLEDGEMENT
I would like to thank all individuals who contributed and sacrificed their time towards completion of this project.
To my supervisor, for the guidance and support in the development of this research project, His advice and criticism made this project what it is.
Thanks to colleagues and friends for their suggestions, advice and encouragement. To all of you may God bless you abundantly for your tireless effort.

TABLE OF CONTENTS
Contents Page
DECLARATION i
DEDICATION ii
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT iii
TABLE OF CONTENTS iv
LIST OF TABLES vii
LIST OF FIGURE viii
ABSTRACT ix
CHAPTER ONE 10
STUDY OVERVIEW AND STATEMENT OF THE PROBLEM 10
1.1 Background of the Study 10
1.2 Research Questions 13
1.3 Research Objectives 13
1.4 Justification of the Study 13
1.5 Significance of the Study 14
1.6 Scope of the Study 15
1.6.1Assumptions of the Study 16
CHAPTER TWO 17
LITERATURE REVIEW 17
2.1 Introduction 17
2.2 Common Forms of Child Abuse 17
2.2.1 Child ****** Abuse 17
2.2.2 Physiological or Emotional Abuse 17
2.2.3 Physical Abuse 18
2.2.4 Child Neglect or Abandonment 18
2.2.4.1 Physical Neglect 19
2.2.4.2 Educational Neglect 19
2.2.4.3 Medical Neglect 19
2.2.5 Child Fatalities 20
2.3 How Child Abuse Affects Academic Performance 20
2.3.1 Child Abuse and Academic Performance 20
2.3.2 Child Abuse and School Image 23
2.3.3 Child Abuse and Dropout Rate 25
2.4 Strategies that Schools can Employ to Curb Child Abuse 26
2.4.1 Role of Public Regulation 26
2.4.1.1 Nurturing and Attachment 27
2.4.1.2 Social Connections 27
2.5 Theoretical Framework 27
2.5.1 Learning Theory 28
2.5.1.1 Relationship with the Study 28
2.5.2 Family Dysfunction Theory 29
2.5.2.1 Relationship with the Study 29
CHAPTER THREE 30
RESEARCH DESIGN AND METHODOLOGY 30
3.0 Introduction 30
3.1 Site Description 30
3.2 Research Design 30
3.3.1 Target Population 30
3.3.2 Sample Size and Sampling Procedure 31
3.4 Description of Research Instruments 32
3.4.1 Research Instrument 32
3.4.1.1 Questionnaire 32
3.5 Data Collection Procedure 32
3.5.1 Validity and Reliability of Research Instruments 33
3.5.1.1 Reliability of Research Instruments 33
3.5.1.2 Validity 33
3.6 Data Analysis and Presentation 33
CHAPTER FOUR 35
DATA PRESENTATION AND ANALYSIS 35
4.0 Introduction 35
4.1 Background Information 35
4.1.1 Age of the Respondents 35
4.1.2 *** of the Respondents 35
4.1.3 Education Level of the Respondents 36
4.1.4 Marital Status 36
4.2 Specific Information 37
4.2.1 Effects of Child Abuse on Academic Performance 37
4.2.2 How Child Abuse Affects Dropout Rate of Students in School 38
4.2.3 Proposed Strategies that Schools can Employ to Curb Child Abuse 41
CHAPTER FIVE 43
SUMMARY, CONCLUSION AND RECOMMENDATIONS 43
5.0 Introduction 43
5.1 Summary of the findings 43
5.2 Discussion of the Findings 44
5.3 Conclusion 45
5.4 Recommendations 46
REFERENCES 47

LIST OF TABLES & FIGURES
Table 3.1 Target population 32
Table 3.1 Sample size 33
Table 4.1 Age of the Respondents 36
Table 4.2 *** of the Respondents 37
Table 4.3 Education Level of the Respondents 37
Table 4.4 Marital Status 38
Table 4.5 Effects of Child Abuse on Academic Performance 38
Table 4.6 How Child Abuse Affects Dropout Rate of Students in School 40
Figure 4.1 Views of the Pupils on Abuse 41
Table 4.7 Proposed Strategies that Schools can Employ to Curb Child Abuse 42





















ABSTRACT
Child abuse is the physical, ****** or emotional maltreatment or neglect of a child or children. The consequences of child maltreatment can be profound and may endure long after the abuse or neglect occurs. The purpose of the study was to investigate the effect of child abuse on school performance in Primary Schools in Kapyemit ward, Uasin-Gishu County. The objectives of the study were: To assess the impacts of child abuse on academic performance; to determine the effects of child abuse on schools image, to identify the impacts of child abuse on pupil drop out rate, to investigate the effects of child abuse on pupil transition rate. The study employed a survey study design. The study targeted 160 respondents which includes; 5 Head Teachers, 40 Teachers, 70 Pupils and 35 parents of which a sample size of 48 was obtained from using 30%. Purposive sampling technique was used in selecting the head teachers while simple random sampling technique will be used to select the teachers, Pupils and parents who formed the respondents of the study. Questionnaires and interview schedules were used as data collection instruments. Data was analyzed quantitatively and qualitatively and presented in form of tables, percentages and frequency. The study helped in the understanding of the effects of child abuse on the school performance, the realization of the roles parents and teachers play in the curbing of child abuse among pupils and raising awareness on the same.
 
CHAPTER ONE
STUDY OVERVIEW AND STATEMENT OF THE PROBLEM
1.1 Background of the Study
Child abuse is the physical, ****** or emotional maltreatment or neglect of a child or children. The consequences of child maltreatment can be profound and may endure long after the abuse or neglect occurs. The effects can appear in childhood, adolescence, or adulthood, and may affect various aspects of an individual's development (e.g., physical, cognitive, psychological, and behavioral). These effects range in consequence from minor physical injuries, low self-esteem, attention disorders, and poor peer relations to severe brain damage, extremely violent behavior, and death. In extreme cases, child abuse affects the performance of schools in the affected region (Daniel, 1978).
Performance refers to how students deal with their academic studies and how they cope with or accomplish different tasks given to them by their teachers. Performance is also the ability of a school to portray a good image which can influence the public (Decastro, 1978). There are several factors that influence the performance of a school at large, however, there is a critical factor that most researchers have avoided to discuss, and child abuse has been a crucial factor that has contributed to children’s dismal performance. Apart from children’s personal intelligence, child abuse is among then key factors contributing to poor performance of learners. Child abuse can lead to school dropping, emotional trauma or can even be fatal, hence destructing or even terminating the educational ambitions of a child. (Harris, 2005)
Worldwide, according to World Health Organization (WHO, 2000) approximately 40 million children are subjected to child abuse each year. According to Human Rights Watch (2001) about 30% of all severely disabled children relegated to special homes in the Ukraine died before they reached 18 years of age. UNICEF estimates that two million children died as a result of armed conflict during a recent 10-year period and that another six million were injured or disabled. In Canada, the U.S. and Mexico, over 6.5 million children annually are exposed to unwanted ****** materials over the internet; over 1.7 million of these report distress over exposure to these materials. In the United States, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) and the Department for Children and Families (DCF) define child maltreatment as any act or series of acts of commission or omission by a parent or other caregiver that results in harm, potential for harm, or threat of harm to a child. Child abuse can occur in a child's home, or in the organizations, schools or communities the child interacts with. Each year, approximately one million children around the world are introduced into commercial ****** exploitation despite this problem; these developed countries have put measures to curb the vice. Rehabilitation schools have been formed and introduction of counseling centers as well. Despite the prevalence of child abuse in this developed nations they narrowly affect the academic performance since there are organizations put in place to curb the situation e.g. child associations, guidance and counseling institutions, and school based counseling programs (Giles, 2001)
Concern for victims of child abuse in Africa expressed by the African network of the International Society for The Prevention of Child Abuse and Neglect (ISPCAN) which gave five main presentations of child abuse: child labor, street wandering, ****** abuse, child battering and abandonment (Elma, 1977). Child labor according to the international labor organization (ILO), about 10 million children less than 15years in Africa are in formal employment, working long hours with poor pay and are exposed to substantial health hazards. Wandering of children refers to children, usually unkempt and with delinquent propensities, living rough in town. The reasons for children taking to the street remain poorly understood particularly in relation to factors in the child rather than parental hostility and economic (Dubowitz, 2002)
****** abuse is another. For example, arranged under-age marriages are common in some parts of the continent and doubt was often expressed as to whether a young girl fully gave consent to being betrothed (Galdsone, 1965). Prevalence rates in Africa are very difficult to ascertain because of the fear of disclosure by victims and lack of proper documentation. Most of the girls by reasons of shame fear or surprisingly respect for their usually older perpetrators. Physical battering is also eminent. Physical abuse of children is widely claimed to berate in the third world; however, there are anecdotes from east Africa skeletal frame or localized body areas of all first attendees aged 0-12 years at this hospital during the four-year period 1 January 1987 to 31 December 1990 (Garbarino, 1975). Sixty-nine of these reports reveals evidence of multiple bone fractures wither without evidence of rib or skull fracture. Abandonment of children to roam around the streets in what we call street children is also eminent in Africa, though valid and adequate information on abandonment are difficult to obtain due mainly to failure of offending parents to show up out of guilt, shame, judicial repercussions or a combination of these. However, some euro-American missionaries identified inter alia breech birth. (Erickson, 2003)
Child protection measures in Kenya are currently not implemented effectively and fully (Galdstone, 1965). Compliance with such legislation would increase if the magnitude of the problem and better knowledge about the factors that put children at risk was available. Additionally, involving stakeholders, especially agencies charged with protection, as well as involving affected children, will highlight the issues and thereby promote adherence to protection policies. Kenyan children, child activists and children organizations are pinning their hopes on the implementation of the Children’s Act to improve the lot of the nation’s youth. The Act, which came into effect on 1 March 2002, puts in place full safeguards for the rights of the child. Its passage was a giant stride in harmonizing the national laws with international agreements which Kenya has signed such as the UN Conventions on the Rights of the Child (CRC, 2002)
There is hope that the new legislation will dramatically change the inattention, neglect and abuse towards child rights. The Act outlaws any form discrimination of children, and forbids Female Genital Mutilation (FGM), child prostitution, and child labor, among other forms of abuse. The Children’s Act has immensely improved the lives of many Kenyan children plagued with high illiteracy levels, frequent **** cases and child labor since it guarantees children the right to health and medical care, provision of which is the responsibility of the parents, the extended family and the government (Erickson, 2005).
Cases of child abuse in Uasin-Gishu region have been so eminent in the recent years ((Kenya Media Report, 2004). In the year 2010 and the year 2011, there was a program started to rehabilitate this behavior. This problem is clearly evident when you first arrive in Eldoret town, it is among the towns in the country with the highest number of abandoned children who keep on moving from one Centre to another seeking help from passersby. Parents have developed behaviors of abandoning their children and deliberately sending them to the town so that they can benefit from their borrowing. So to say this has led to child labor in this region. High profile cases of school dropouts have been recorded regarding the environs of this region. Young school children from different locations in Eldoret converge in town to persuade people to offer them financial assistance. Some attend school in numbered days and decide to spend some good number of days out of school.
The communities and societies around tend to assume this situation and term it as norm. A few who might seem concerned lack cooperation from the rest. This has adversely affected the performance of most of schools, hence leading to poor living standards of the people and a poisoned future of a young citizen. The problem has affected learners in regions like many areas in Uasin-Gishu County. It has really affected child development and affected their attendance and performance in school. Little intervention measures has been taken to advocate the holistic development of the children. It was to this reason that the researcher conducted the research in the named above region
1.2 Research Questions
The study was guided by the following questions;
1) What is the effect of child abuse on the academic performance of students in Kapyemit Ward?  
2) What are some of the proposed strategies that schools can employ to curb child abuse?
1.3 Research Objectives
The study was guided by the following research objectives;
1) To identify the effect of child abuse on the academic performance of students in Kapyemit Ward.
2) To identify proposed strategies that can be employed to help curb child abuse.
1.4 Justification of the Study
It is becoming increasingly difficult to separate child abuse prevention into separate categories. For instance, strategies on the societal level include increasing the “value” of children, increasing the economic self-sufficiency of families, discouraging corporal punishment and other forms of violence, making health care more accessible and affordable, expanding and improving coordination of social services, improving the identification and treatment of psychological problems and alcohol and drug abuse, providing more affordable child care and preventing the birth of unwanted children.
Very little analysis has been done to estimate the total cost of preventing child abuse and neglect or the long-term social costs of not preventing it. There is now a move to situate child abuse and neglect within the continuum of intervention which addresses multiple aspects of family behaviors. The efficacy of tackling portions of the problem of child abuse apart from broader societal needs is not known. And, perhaps prevention can only come in tandem with efforts to reduce poverty, improve health care and make children’s issues a national priority. However, despite these constraints, evaluations of prevention programs can be improved by coming to terms with definitions of key varia

It's lunch time
And I'm in my math teachers' room
Writing godawful poetry
When I have a math test next period.
Our health class
Just watched a video about cyber-bullying
And the girl forgives her lying backstabbing ***** of a friend
I just called my friend
Who is absent
I called her twice
And she hung up twice
          Sixteen seconds
          Eleven seconds

I'm sitting in the library now
On a circular table
          Table for four.
I am one
But I always sit on a table with empty seats
So that I always know I am alone
This red ink looks darker in this lighting
A much more appealing shade
In comparison to how it looks in my bedroom

I'm thinking that I all I should be doing for the next few years of my life
Is math and music
          More of both

I'm really scared one of my friends will come and sit next to me  
I'm pretending the monsters from Six Skies are there
This might be unhealthy

Some ***** Megan just sat here
           She's not really a *****
But can't she see that my monster friend is angry
Because she just took his ******* seat

Whenever I'm in math class
I always feel like writing poetry
When I am writing poetry
I don't want to do anything else
Math class is over in five minutes
I think I did okay on my test
But Spanish is next
And I know I won't be doing okay there

My stomach feels as if
The acids that are supposed to be breaking down my food
          There is none shh
Are killing the lining of my stomach tissue
I have a self-destructing *****.

Once upon a time
This used to be a math notebook
That's all I ever write about in here
          math.

This is satisfying
My monster friends from Six Skies
           aren't here
           and
           I really wish they were.

I'm sitting encased in a red velvet colored blanket
It's actually my brothers
This is his third blanket
He got it for Christmas
Its his for a while, and then I take it
          even though I already have one of my own
So I guess he'll be getting a new one soon

The monsters from Six Skies
           are here
           watching me
           protecting me
I quite like their company
I don't want them to leave
           even at school
It's not a metaphor
But then again some days I look at myself in the mirror from several different angles of view
More satisfying than I'd imagined.

I forgive everyone for everything
             and I don't angry
Before it was anger and unforgiveness
Slowly I realized feelings like these
            were just too unnecessary for me
I think I do too many unnecessary things things like that
And I want to cut all of it up
I like basic
But I also like intricate

I have been writing poetry
           for three years.
           since I was in the sixth grade
They all used to rhyme
And my parents would be proud
Because I was proud
           as I grinned while I read them to them
And they were proud because it was about things
            like sunshine
I wonder if they would be proud now
Because I never even show them
And the only time I write about sunshine
            Is when something else is eating it away.

She was a hurricane of a girl
Sweeping in
Hair blowing
Destructing everything
In her path

It's a beautiful destruction
Crisp leaves
Blowing around
Autumn laughter
And hearts breaking

It's a beautiful destruction
She leaves behind
The magic of her love

She tears up land
Steals your time
Ripping your heart
Into pieces
Leaving you
Forever shattered

Oh, but what a
Beautiful destruction
You have left behind
©sierraelectra

She dances,
Alone.
In such grace and poise
Positioned in between the tallest buildings
And she poses
For the camera
The bright flashes

Or on stage
In the spotlight
Twirling and twisting
Not a hair out of place
Not a step out of line
Not a breath unplanned

Trained to be accurate
Self destructing, but so well collected
The most beautiful dancer the world has ever seen.

loving someone
who is incapable of love
is self destructive.

When you've given all you had 
And the world wants more
It's time to hang up the goody two shoes
And feed your soul

A little rebellion could go a long way 
A nod for no and bending the rules
Because it's about time 
You had your say 

When the day ends 
And you've been all worn out 
Don't breakdown and give up
Go for an alternative option 

When your self destructing 
And cursing like nobody's business 
And each day is the mother of bad days 
Just turn around and dare to risk an unknown path

Because you're tired of living alone 
Step up or let go 
Nothing is worth losing your mind over
Find your way home

Shattered Bowed
Clustered broken glass
Dark shadow engulfs
Laid on the grass

Stone piece signifies
People bid goodbyes
Death Lord besieged
Now a graveyard breed

Tested through times
Committing crimes
Resting, Evil Wrath will rise
Avenging my cries

People, friends betrayed
My Wrath, My Hatred
Declared self-destructing
At times exploding

My Wrath, My Friend
My Wrath, My Hatred
My Wrath, My Enemy
My Wrath, ME!!

but when i said
‘living on the edge,’
this was never
what i meant.

what i meant was real party all night
without parents’ permission;
not a pity party at night
with my self-destructing notions.

what i meant was real rollercoasters,
or go on life adventures;
not roller coasters
of all my life’s emotions.

what i meant was swim in the ocean,
or face my darkest fear.
not an ocean of my
darkest fears face me.

but i when i said
put ‘happy’ and ‘die’ together,
i meant to actually ‘die happy’
not to be ‘happy dying.’

If
Everything
Is to happen
The way it is to be
In the name of "Destiny"
Why should my soul in unrest
Race to a Self destructing "Mutiny"
Only to acheive a mere "Ignominy"?

A figure in the distance
lives on a monetary hill
by siphoning off pensions.
An absence of motive
for this hellish apparition.
Grandiose a la mode,
Slaves to inattention.
   Pace yourself
   Take your drugs
   Sign for help
   Relinquish us
Pampering lifestyles
of dying and self-destructing ones
spiraling into the light
disintegrating amongst the dance of suns.
Because eyes are always watching
taking notes on what you've become.

How do you feel about this and that?

A cockroach stealing your children's dreams of a bright and peaceful future?

Watching a mongoloid getting backhanded by a ******* with a heart of gold?

The unknowable can't be evacuated by an atomic bomb.

Knowledge cannot be enthralled by microbiology.

Peace CAN & WILL shatter into fragments by the use of clinical drugs.

Fun finds the cure for cancer in a twisted upbringing that you and your siblings will never be blessed to experience.

Trust can trigger an avalanche of facts, AND satanism should generally avoid including sexuality.

Mary Magdalene turns boring things into ****** tension like peace inspires fundamentally skewered acts of protests.

Our world leaders briefly researching painful mutilations in an ancient garden in Greece, while suggestively grabbing handfuls of lost gifts in a church made from human bones.

How are you feeling about this mess of words I've sewn together?  

Televised revolutions are deeply advertising etched foreskins of death like Disney World sells us dates with Mickey Mouse and his muse Minnie as Donald poses as Adolf ******.   

Watch your friends fade and die as they disobediently blow away blue swamps at your feet, never even bothering you with a decent goodbye.  

There's a supply and demand on our radios briefly warning us of fearful flesh in the background of a dark ash filled sky, gently driving away from mysteries spied through a peephole.

I would have cried briefly, if worshiping premonitions in the shadows was good human behavior...But it's not..

Your sisters are daintily self-destructing emergency shelters dancing w/ both hands in your pockets while vomiting their lunches into fine porcelain. Aren't we lucky?

I am happily reusing substances
and creating electrifying populations with clay and words. A seamstress of sorts I suppose.  But I'm no artist.

Pentecostalism might be able to rid the world of a nightmare and your wildest dream might have been known to lead to a disorder that hasn't yet been but already has five matter of fact cures.

The Bible courses through the veins of vengeance like physics can be used to detect our long-term relationship with Santa Christ. Satan and I think this is exciting!

Complex religious designs can be combined with gracelessness in the name of American eye-candy.  We can be uncomfortable if it's entangled with destiny. Of this I am certain.

the tears flow freely now but no noise as not to make an audience of my fake smile unraveling before them for them to see the wall coming down letting  the darkness seep from the debris for they will see the true me and cower in the darkness hidden inside me
not exploding but still self destructing
not imploding but still consuming

we're old souls you & i.
bound by a need to be something beyond ourselves.

i admire that in you.
your struggles, questioning
breathing new life into stale moments.

we're gypsies i'd say, you & i.
the new beatniks
pushing the boundaries of self discovery
fighting with ourselves & conceptions of identity.

we're moving, always
self destructing
running in search of any semblance of truth.

Why do people leave me?

Why do love only give birth to be slaughtered by your hands?

I am so afraid.

You won’t listen. 

You won’t tell me the words I want to hear.

I bring myself into the fires as I scream and smoke fills my lungs and the fire licks my body angrily - the same way your hands are all over me. I scream. Nightmares. 

Daymares. 

Reality.

I wish I didn’t end up like this all the time

I have a tortured soul, and one day, Jung and Nietzsche told me, I will too,  become the torturer

But ******

I fight, and I fight it so hard

I fight so hard to not hurt others

It’s all I ever do

I fight, and
I fight but I never seem to win

I had given in, accepted my fate

Why did you have to tear down

all
I
built

?

Maybe this all I really am;

a punching bag;

dust;

pulp;


Please, one time.
Help me up before you throw me out the window.

Next time, don’t let them get so close.

Don’t let them 

Them

and

me,

against the world. 

I should know better.

I sink. 

No metaphors.
No similes, please.
No poems. Please.

Just empty words after all.
Yes, beautiful. 
But

empty.

...

Take it all away.
Please.

Leave your knives,
leave your swords,
leave your guns.
Stop killing me.

Stop.

Please, stop me before I dive into the dark, freezing ocean - 

there is nowhere for me in this world.

So, to sleep. 

Perchance to dream… 

and all of that.

Let’s be true.
I don’t really know Hamlet’s soliloquy. 

But **** Shakespeare. He doesn’t know how hard it is. 

Ophelia didn’t drown herself so easily - I don’t sink so easily, but I still do - and every night I dream, I go away. 

Forever.

I’m not alone. 

I tell lies.

Okay, so maybe I’m not okay. 

But when will I ([n]ever) be?

I am born with this heritage.
With this scarred soul.
And William, Friedrich, Carl… 

- well, this is just another story of loneliness and giving up.
The crazy bunch.

Maybe, this is the last straw. 

Maybe, I’ll finally go crazy. 

The inevitable will happen. 

The lonely will be left - completely alone.

The self-destructing fool,
finally, self-destructing oneself. 

It’s so difficult to climb this ladder. 


…

I’ll just go down.

The water is cold.


**May 29th 2014

Walking unsteadily around
feeling her way as a blind person
Searching and shifting for someones face
Upon the discovery of His

Who did this to you?

In the naked darkness,
the feeling of  being evaluated
pushes it’s way in from all sides
Shuffling of her feet
and eyes bruised with the knowledge

Who did this to you love?

Black circles of burned tears
words that tears like a broken saw
muttered under the breath of melancholy

I did

Darling, but you’re bleeding!

Tacitly avoiding his words
Upon the memory of his sagacious mind
Born of the moonlight,
She knows when to avoid the brooding stillness

Why did you do this?

And as the palpitating silence lengthened
The white cloth he has strategically placed
is painted with red
and a protest already wavering on her lips
As his fingers were gently laid upon her soul

I wanted to clear my mind of a thousand memories

Scratching her nails
into the painted milky white flesh
His hands searching for hers
Asking for her dripping hands

They are my battle wounds

And who, may I ask, were you battling?

The rippling questions pulling her further away
Soundless words only little more than a whisper
Desperately pulling the strings of her heart
The wounds, almost a piece of fragile art

Myself

Don’t loose yourself, take my hand, let me guide you

I don’t want to be a burden

The blood that trickles down her arms betrays
what her words are meant to portray
And as the piercing sounds were spoken from his mouth
Seriousness lurked in the depths of his eyes

Sweetheart, you are only a burden to yourself.

Carefully pulling each red stained cloth of her body
Exposing the ragged contour
Withdrawing herself is what she does best
but he has a hold of her heart
as he examines every inch of broken skin

How can I trust you?

Here, take my hand.

He readily grasped her icing cold fingers
and dug them into his chest,
till she was left with his heart in her hands
The red warm liquids
mixing with her own stained violet bruises
She suddenly remembered what it felt like
to feel the heartbeat of another person

*You wanted to clear you mind of memories,
but in the meantime
you forgot love.

i’m drowning in new york city.
i want to die, again.
always! why is it like this?
i hate everyone; i want my ****** dramatic burlington life and friends back.
her, him, those two, even them…
i want it back.
i wanna be no one.
i wanna be everyone.
i;m full of emotions that i don’t want because everything is so different except for them.
no matter what i do the doom and gloom is always there.
i wanna change my name
i wanna get a dog—auggie or esme, a red border collie—and flee to the south.
I WANNA DRINK MYSELF TO DEATH.
i see these visions of a stable, happy, healthy version of myself but i also see these visions of me literally not making it past age 21.
i’m eternally stuck on self destructing.
but why?
why!
everything is good but it’s never enough.
i’m never enough, it’s never enough, he’s never enough (whoever he is at any given moment)
sam says he’ll fly me back to santa cruz and my insanity says do it but the small semblance of “morals” i still possess tell me not to…
only because of my parents. because of joe.
i don’t want to hurt them.
i don’t want to hurt anyone. but i’m hurting. always. forever. unless i’m drunk. no, wait…even when i’m drunk. i learned that the hard time this last run.
but life is meaningless (words are meaningless and forgettable) and time is a flat circle
blah blah blah
i’ve been here before
i’ll be here again
everything i do i’ll do over and over til i die.
if i don’t get drunk anytime soon i will eventually.
eternal return; the emo version of destiny.
remember when caroline myss’ book told me my highest potential was “victim”?
i’ll be drowning forever.
i’d rather be drowning in absinthe than drowning in aa meeting coffee.
i ache at the beauty of the world; the beauty which i will never achieve or be a part of.
i cry and i cry and i cry.
i want to be beautiful and pure but it’s all so dark.
all the people i’ve loved and who love me…i weep and i weep and i weep.
i can’t breathe fully; why do i wish i could not breathe at all?
i look back at all my pasts as if they were yesterday, and yet they all feel as if i’d made them up entirely.
disconnected and yet fully involved with each and every era of my evolution…
and yet i swear, i haven’t truly changed a bit.
the details change—the scenery, the faces, the dreams…
but all the emotions…all the thoughts…they stay the same.
“i won’t change, i’ll stay the same—darling, fade away…”
fading & falling & then blooming for a single lovely night
time is a flat circle.
i ache, i weep, i cry.
i naively hold onto the hope that someday…someday i’ll be okay.
please, god.
i have to be okay.
i have to turn off the bon iver.
i’m just trying to breathe.
maybe someday.

you can punch your reflection all you want,
the only result will be ****** knuckles and broken glass.
stop pushing it away, you're never gonna be okay.
he didn't want you, maybe it's because you don't even want yourself
self destructing in
5, 4, 3, 2...

The root cause

What makes so many
Weep and write,
What is the root cause?

Natty boy, c'mon,
This question, repeatedly,
asked and answered!
Turn the radio on!

No, scorn me not,
My answer sino-complex,
mine too.

Many of our devices
Record waves, cycles,
Of which the length, shape,
Endless are the variation.

Your expertise? Your cycles?

Read my **** poems,
A to V.
Even the equations.

I have known heart ache so real
My chest hurt for months.
The doctor had no pills for that.
Risked everything. Lost.
My own weakness seek and sought,
Self-destructing me.

I have known the soul ache that makes
Rising From The Bed,
The most agonizing decision.
A life and death incision/rescission.
A go/no go apparition questioning.

All this long after I was a man.
Two children, reso-possible?
Nope. Choices limited,
Sat in the sunroom,
Contemplating all this.

Say what you need to say.

I try every day to just grab,
Hold, get fastened to me,
The tiniest scrap.

So when I walk by the river,
One atomic iota of sun, a single rain drop,
Gives me cause to pause.

The cycle begins again.
Still unclear? Get graph paper.
Copy this overlay down.
My manic-depressive cycles lookalike,
But the amplitude variegated.
In 59 seconds, Live and Die,
A calculus point on a monthly cycle,
Which in turn, but a point,
A microscopic dot,
In a cycle longer,
A Hundred Years War.

You ok dude?
.
Where is this coming from
On the commencement of a
Three day weekend?

Fair question.

There is a button here,
Randomness incorporated,
Into some poetry sight.

Led me to a eleven year old, poet.
Now,
Know, you understand...the question, posed.

The tiniest scrap of hopeful buried here
In plain site.
These colorful, wordy points,
Scattered, on the cycles,
Usually at the highs and lows.

Maybe I did not answer it well enough.
Maybe nobody can.

Yo, need a job.
Yo, need money.
No cycle in my savings account,
Only a straight line downward sloping.

so I grab an iota of sun,
a solitary raindrop,
make a plan,
write this poem,
a cycle
inflection point.

I ask this question
Every ten seconds stil,
If you must know my truth.
Dueling banjos in my head,
never ever
have stopped playing.

This poem-answer,
Not my best.
But a cycle turning point.
Again.

Having fed the beast,
Maybe I'll get five minutes till
I write it again
In a different shape,
En pointe,
Standing up and beautiful,
I am a twirling ballerina,
who can twirl with out ceasing,
knowing the perpetual motion secret.
For but another mini-cycle

I am endless.
It is endless.
But dear god,
why must you commence with the young ones,
aged eleven?


6:40am Saturday.

A sweet face of an angel
She is friends with the devil
At war with the monsters
She is hard to handle
Warm and gentle heart
She has nerves of metal
Slowly freaking out
She is a twisted and mental
Destructing idols of fear
She is unable to settle
On darkness she feeds
She is a born rebel

Dissected brilliance
Admissible propositions
Sculpted resilience
Destructing predispositions

Initiates our purpose immensely
Criticism gives it's crucial effect
For the better, accordingly
It's for us to detect

Why? we ask throughout
Our incompetent delusion
Through our endless bout
Here, take your conclusion

"Why" is a sensational question
Dissects mind's interest
Releases its compression
Yet we remain among the belligerent

This answer prolongs
Through your eyes only
In our hearts it belongs
Don't persevere your phony
Bring back your trophy

-Joseph B Schneider

When the monster realized no one would respond
to its cries for help, it decided to go and help anyone
who needed it late at night;
self-destructing souls without bright enough lighthouses
to guide help to their half-rotten ports,
ghosts trying to breathe properly under
muffled pain.
The monster’s help was always taken as an attack to
someone’s childhood, so when parents finally convinced
their youngsters that monsters do not exist,
the possible relief of any unresponded pain
was immediately vanished too.
The monster of course never stopped trying,
because the monster knew
and the monster had seen those lighthouses
and their little broken lamps.
But every time it laid its little hurt hand to reassure
someone everything would be alright,
however fake that promise was,
the self-destructing soul would turn its back to the monster,
the ghost would stop trying to listen.
The monster then would start talking to aching limbs
and the limbs would explain why stars keep falling
and why planets can just as easily turn to black holes,
but the monster always preferred the rare occasions of happy story-telling,
where stars and planets always shined bright
and didn’t feel the need to bear wishes on their backs
just to have a small moment of awareness by the world.
Or maybe it was an act of hopelessness,
and that was their last resort.
You see, “Quick, make a wish!”,
and no one ever thinks of making a wish
to save the falling star.
Meteor showers are massive suicides,
the monster thinks to itself,
before returning under the bed.
Tomorrow night, it’s the wardrobe’s turn.

there is no privacy anymore
tinker with your settings,
imaginary dragons, but to no true avail,
your scathing privacy has since sailed,
only to return for another sinking

what you forgot,
is very well remembered
in a some very overlooked place

see me in my summer camp class photo,
blonde crew cut and goofiest of grins,
find my poems of eons ago,
in living tricolor,
to my now better understood
"eternal" embarrassment,
they writ on, vainly looking
for a way to enjoy a
natural unnatural aging,
a wordlessly, self-destructing death
on a someday,
though the probability is that
someone's gigabytes
will cloud store them forevermore
because accumulation is
cheap and easy and
whatever

everything you need but didn't want,
the tangled webs, births and deaths,
multiple divorces and successes,
ancestors, progenitors,
children who no longer acknowledge
parenthood,
the detritus of lives writ even larger than the
original reality life show

confrontation tween my suppression
of long term memories that  
are dangling participles,
going gone being been,
confusion resultant in
the tenses of existence,
I was therefore I still must be
but no longer
the me
I pretended to be

there is no privacy anymore,
especially,
not even from thine own
prying eyes and faulty memories...

when they ask what is my name,
to better trace my leavings,
I will
like Jehovah to Moses respond,

I Am that I Am
(אֶהְיֶה אֲשֶׁר אֶהְיֶה,  ehyeh ašer ehyeh)

One-sidedly decided arrows,
vacillating ellipses;
equilaterally considered triangles,
biased Isosceles;
worlds, whorls, rectangled
squares, afflicted rhombuses;
A self-destructing nova.

The night opens up,
a book of wonders across the sky,
shining in the stars; broken moon;
Wading across ancient expanse.
Flashes of illumination:
lighted mountain bush,
cross rising on the eastern sky;

One look at the visage,
blooming out of this figure
wrapped creeper-like around faint
sight, flower emerging in silver light
out of the shadows: bubbles,
rolling, nonagular, collapsing;
Oh pointless ratiocination!

Being who I am I get obsessive. I get paranoid. I get utterly, shamefully, afraid. I lie. I lie a lot, even when I don't mean to or even when I don't realize it. The moods are like different people taking the reins, and they hardly acknowledge one another's actions. Happiness can do  thousand wonderful things that sadness will never remember. Mania will think a thousand thoughts stability can never fathom even pondering.

But I guess I'm getting off track. This isn't a movie about my head. Its a tale about my drugs, my loves, and my heart.

Its funny, trading drugs that stop you from suicide to drugs that stop your body from doing just that, but this time without your permission. At least let me say its ok before self-destructing, systems. Have some common decency before sinking the ship.

Even funnier, though, is now that my lungs stopped trying to **** me, my head totally decided it was time to take that title back for itself. Funniest has to be, though, is that my worst drugs aren't even the ones I pump into my bloodstream.

With the mood meds, I also stopped taking creativity and honesty and responsibility and ambition. Goodness has it been a messy den of deception I've been nesting in for the past month. This is the first time I've really written clearly what I've been thinking since I thought I was dying. Oh, sure, there was the one time I stopped breathing, but if I wasn't breathing I obviously thought I was still dying.

I guess its really today when I take a step outside my own vanity project and look at the mess I've made. I've done nothing, been nothing, but utter horror since I got out of that hospital. I've been a terrible girlfriend, student, daughter, and friend this entire time. I shut myself away, only exposing myself to those who I had to as to not raise suspicion. Hell, I've basically acted like a class act villain, hiding away in my lair plotting and thinking while ultimately accomplishing nothing. That's what villains do, right? Lonely, misunderstood, ultimately alone people who do not see the light the way the rest of society does ultimately never win, don't they?

I was someone, months ago. I had dreams, I had friends, I had a life. Now all I have is the shadows of my family and a boyfriend who I have done nothing to deserve this past month. But I guess the darkness has gobbled me up like a yummy cake and left me an ugly, unlikable crumb of my former self.

Time to **** it the **** up. Everything hurts, everything's broken, everything;s wrong. I don't have my drugs. I don't have the endless love I once had in my heart. I'm not the girl who once spent every day with her friends, called her mom three times a week, always excelled in class, and cried when she had to let it go.

Be honest with yourself, Grace. The true thing that's killing you is that you are empty. You do not care. You worry about your lies for the self-preservation tactic of not getting caught being the bad guy, but you are. You don't know if its a mental coping mechanism to deal with the torrential emotions or a survival tactic or for the sick selfishness of not wanting to feel anymore. You feign it, affection and love, but you can only muster it out in goofiness and weak "I love you"s.

Go back to your drugs, little girl. You're only strong with a security blanket. Otherwise you're a bitter ***** with a talent for lying. Get your mood stabilizers and your expressions and your friends and your hope back. Cynicism cannot keep them from you forever, unless it truly wants to **** you.

But that would ruin the lies of how fine you are, wouldn't it?

Make it ok, make your heart ok, and finally then it will be ok to lie just a little bit, maybe just to protect yourself from realizing this heartlessness, this period of nothing, was actually real. Go back to Wonderland, Grace. It missed you.

Maybe just as much as you missed it.

He says hes my protector
And some days he'll be my lover
But if he's gonna be both
He must learn how to take cover.

Those who fail to know
From head to toe
What I represent
They who are filled with apprehension
Strving to cage me in sin

Please recognize I am no peasant
Nor am I one of omniscence
Just one with daring endeavers
Dreams of heavenly treasures

Forgetting to realize that I am the one who needs the most attention
Most protection from my intentions
Is the **** part I forgot to mention.

I am my own enemy
Or shall I say frenemy
Because im honest with advice
My conscience always giving me insight
But then my lower self comes destroying life
Self destructing...DYNAMITE

From understanding the self to then losing chess
How will I ever be able to live like the rest
Success
Living righteous

Will I ever see light of day or will it be darkness filled sorrow again tomorrow?

I came to a cross road,
The first one I think I had ever been to,
There I straddled a thin line,
Between my faith and fear,
And I stood there just staring at my feet.
My Grandmother always told me,
Just let life unfold,
But it's a terrible thing being taken from everything you know,
And I had no control,
That was the scariest thing.
I heard faint voices down both paths,
I heard their judgmental tones,
But I couldn't make out what they were saying,
Maybe if I did I could of made a choice,
But sometimes I didn't even know if the choice was actually mine.
I was always a victim of some terrible situation,
One after another, after another,
The same situations had made me cold and indecisive,
After all, there's only so many times a kid can rebuild all those walls,
I had my heart broken more times then I could count,
I got to the point that most of the time I didn't even know if my heart was there,
I had moments where I checked my pulse, because to be living I didn't feel very alive.
So I was standing there,
And all I wanted to do was turn around and run,
And when I knew I should of made a choice between the two,
I cut through the trees,
And made a path of my own,
I disappointed everyone I knew,
But maybe they didn't know me very well at all,
Cause I was self destructing and nobody knew.

Golden sun on golden hair
The kind of girl you can follow
By the trail of broken hearts
And promises of passion
Fashionable fury
Magnificent monster
Devouring life
Devoted to lust
Desiring love

In my head I saw the cohort
Of lovers, past, present and future
Walking meekly by
Cherishing the whole lot
From first eye contact
To first touch
And even the crush
The smack on the head
That useless feeling of feeling useless

It’s hard not to make the same mistake
Even in a place so mundane
As you set a place like this
Ferociously on fire
Burning and battering
Heat and heart
Mesmerizing mess
Deviously destructing

The girl at the bus station
Promising a journey you’ll regret
And a morning after to forget
Sentimental slur
Like only a fool could feel
Heading in heart first
Ending up endangered
Feelings rearranged
Promises kept

The girl at the bus station
You know she’ll break your heart
And still you get aboard
Because life’s too short
Not to give in to sin
Sensual sacrificing
Dare to wear your heart
On a sleeve
Only to have it thrown away

So she transformed
From the girl at the bus station
Into the girl from that one memory
Of that horrible movie
And that passionate play
Hoping that it all
Proves to be a prequel
Of the story of a lifetime
About a girl at the bus station
And a fool who came to stay

John Mann
Well meaning and average
Hard working and normal
Accumulates much.

Accumulates wealth
Accumulates knowledge
Accumulates self respect
Accumulates an identity.

Confident in his knowledge, and
If you do good, you will get good
If you do bad, you will get beat
Reward comes from work, and risk
And self respect.

Mann is self motivated
Self educated
Self respected
Self sufficient
Self made.

Yet Mann
Self doubts
Self loathes
Self harms in his mind.

Mann is in an everlasting kingdom
Yet lives in a self destructing world
And lives a self depreciating life,
But with an everlasting God
Who has a multi-faceted and a many sided wisdom
Mixed with love from an everlasting power...

...the cocktail mixed by God.


God calls this cup, "glory"

Why ?.

He doesn't always tell
But He always knows
It always works...

It works deep
Hard
Is an incisive scalpel ,
Yet most powerful,
Past finding out.


One night,
A black night,
No moon to reflect the sun's light
A place where he has never been
A place where he has never seen
A place where no one else has known; they who criticize,
Where accumulated knowledge has no answer
Where accumulation of experience brings confusion,
Brings a great horror of darkness.

There is no one there
Except Mann and Jesus.

John Mann uses all his strength
And his accumulated wealth
His accumulated knowledge
His accumulated self respect
His accumulated identity
His self education
His self respect
His self sufficiency
His self made mental creations
To defend himself against this vulture.

But Mann gets exhausted in the fight
The exhaustion bring doubt to his doubts
Brings questions to his accumulated knowledge
He is misunderstood,
Self respect starts to dissolve
Identity is stripped away...

Mann feels naked.

His fig leaves of self sufficiency is not sufficient
He doesn't respect his self respect
His education was in the mind; not in power
His identity was misplaced
His wealth of knowledge made him bankrupt.

God's cocktail begins to work
For John Mann must now rest to survive
He must stop.

He screams , "let this cup, this cocktail pass...
Isn't there a better way ?
An easier way
More convenient ?
That gives respect" ?. 

In His sleep
He breathes
Rests
And realizes...

There is nothing left...
Only Jesus.

His Kingdom
His knowledge
His wealth
His sufficiency
His position
His rest
and more powerfully, His identity.

John Mann starts to see
He is not God's counsellor, and
That the questions of God become more satisfying than the answers of the world.

This was a most expensive drink
It cost Mann everything;
Yet gave him everything.

This cup is now always full
Instead of always needing to be topped up.

When the vultures come, from the externals
He just sits and smiles,
Resting in work of the black night and the cup he drunk from 
For now Mann's source is not self
But that which has been imparted deep within,
Deep has connected with deep.

Mann is forever altered,
He doesn't look the same
He doesn't feel the same
He doesn't think the same
He is not the same.

He walks with a limp
He sings with his heart, not his head
He talks with a new tongue
Poison no longer harms him.


He loves what he used to hate
He hates what he used to love,
Now his prayers start with thankfulness
Gentleness has smoothed the hard edges,
Through grace glasses he sees differently.

From the black night,
The uncomfortable cup,
The inconvenient cocktail of night and horror...
Is the stripping process...
Brilliant, clever, loving and eternal.

Always works
Always powerful
Always better in depth and richness.

Now Mann doesn't need external virtue
For John Mann was stripped of himself
And now possesses another life in exchange,
Internal.


The day breaks
The night is far spent,
John Mann is now ready for the next time night comes,
With power.

I am unafraid tonight

To write and sign my real name.

To like what I read which is almost everything here
For the sake, for the pain, for the unashamed, for just
Celebrating those who breathe life for the just
Trying.

I am unafraid tonight

To disclose that I live as an
Agonist
In a city that ghost taps on my windows,
( thank you Ilion gray for that),
When the quiet is pockmarked by so many crying the
Loudest tears.

I am unafraid tonight
To express my dissatisfaction with you.

I am unafraid tonight
To express the miracle of those across oceans,
And across town,
Welcoming me into their hearts and wonder
Where else do the wayfarers gather

I am I am
unafraid tonight
To curry your favor,
Despise your silence
Expose corners of me
That should be buried
Before my body later follows

I am unafraid tonight
To use or abuse punctuation
For their are spaces and ,
Between us that can and cannot be closed
But I am compelled to try to narrow the differences
For
I am unafraid tonight

Tomorrow, we shall see,
If the shale within can yet be fractured,
Brought to the surface
To be consumed,
Or the fractures spread
Destructing the whole.

But tonight,
I am unafraid.

I’ve kissed too many lips
who tend to forget my name the next day
I’ve hugged bodies who once kept me warm and loved
that are gone as soon as I realize they never meant it.
I’ve spoken words to people who didn’t even deserve to know the secrets of my universe
I’ve shared beds with souls who were only there to acknowledge their own self worth, while mine deteriorated with every second
I’ve loved humans who didn’t even know what love was, causing me to wastefully pour out whatever was left in my heart...
destructing into the fragile bit of me now

Remembering the mixed tips
Always rewinding time,
To a location above myself
Draining my body fluids

My emotions far
Too extreme blown
Away casually as
If I was
Old news lingering
Upon her dresser
Underneath photos of me
Self destructing to
A pure heart

Self destruction
In a place where nothing is certain
When someone needs saving
From themselves

The way you don't need anyone
The one's you needed are all gone
Your searching for someone to hate
Anything to make you feel something in change of nothing

You'd rather be alone
And spend your days drowning
Wondering the streets
Inhaling the smoke as it darkens the lightness of your soul

Everyone here is out for something
You no longer believe in genuine
They get paid to look after you
And the therapist gets paid to understand things that don't make sense