My mother called me the devil child
Because I was loud, destructive and wild
I found out years later I was born with ADHD
No one wanted ever to spend time with me
Parents didn’t know of ADHD and why I was different
They didn’t understand and they were very intolerant
Parents told older sister I was bad and she didn’t have to be around or play with me
So much of the time alone was really no fun, however for some help I did make a plea
I heard my mother double dog dare my father to hit me
Mother would refer to me as a turd in front of the family
All my cousins were smart, while I was failing all my classes in school
Got in to many fights with bullies and teachers who were always cruel
My family would all make fun of me, call names bully and tease
I was the loser that anyone could do or say what they pleased
None of my cousins was I ever allowed to play
I was always much of the time was alone all day
I lived in a strange house my dad was very to the T religious
And my mother was always drunk and of course blameless
She’d drink when home from work on the weekends or holidays
And could always hide it from all her friends and the relatives
No one believed me when I told them that she had been drinking
They acted like I was crazy by then I knew what they were thinking
My mother took me out on Friday nights to eat and buy whatever I wanted, after work
Her last stop was always the liquor store for drink and smoke, I was left in car like a jerk
She bought games and toys that took two or more to play, but she nor did dad never have any intension
Of spending anytime with me because I was in there way. I was a bad child that needed intervention
Wasn’t the perfect child I admit; I ran off when I was 16 did things I regret parents put me
Away, they came for counseling I complained about moms drinking and she felt angry
She said that her drinking wasn’t my problem and she’d be back to see me when I could face the truth
Never could mother admit to her or dad doing wrong, everything was always because I was a youth
Came home from school one day mom was passed out on the living room floor dead drunk
Called ambulance for her Dr blamed me and said no visit, and he called me a punk
My dad would come home and find she was throwing up while passed out always in her bed
I’d watch him take bowls and put them near her mouth to catch it, was something I would dread
He’d walk to the bathroom to empty the bowl and go back to get the next one to do the very same
And replace the unfilled one and repeat the process. I was told by her doctor that I was the blame
Sometimes mom would go running down the hall to the toilet bowl to throw up my heart would race
Because I always knew mom would do this and then she’d come to my room to scare rant and pace
Since I was a bad spoiled child who had parents with money, nice house cars and good jobs
And I was not willing to help out or be responsible, was told I made the family look like slobs
My sister let her boyfriend talk her into letting him take me to the dentist, instead he molested me
But no one believed me because in the past I had lied about things, and the truth no one would see
Since I was different all the cousins, my aunts and uncle could blame me for when things went missing
Or went wrong I was then and still am now the perfect scapegoat and yes about it I’m still babbling
My father ran out the back door, when he heard me wake up and come out of my room
So he didn’t have to bother with me, I wanted to spend time with him he’d assume
Somehow I managed to graduate from high school and I then would move
To a different city I felt I might have better luck and my life would improve
Married two very bad guys both who beat, threatened me and verbally abused
Divorced them both and had one child and how I’d raise this child alone I was confused
Tried to work and go to school never was competent enough to follow through
Each time I would start either I did not have the ability of completing anything new
Am not proud of this but I had 30 jobs that I lost in 10 years and even tried going to college
Unable to remember how and when to do things, my head from years of abuse was in a fog
Filed for SSI and Social Security, got on section 8, food stamps WIC and other government aid
I needed a home for myself and my daughter so I had to depend on things like this to get paid
My daughter grew up, became ill with a repeating debilitating disease
I dedicated myself to getting her well, and nothing about it was a breeze
Had to take her in pain weekly for Doctor visits many times she’d cry and wished she were dead
This broke my heart with no family help, just her and I to face things in the days and years ahead
Unable to attend school for years, the Doctor signed permission to stay home
School system assigned a teacher who was mean nothing about her was tome
School Social workers interfered
And my name they smeared
She finally one day went into remission
And now the nephrotic kidney condition
Seems for now to have forever gone for good away
For years it’s been don’t want others to downplay
For a while I homeschooled her and the first semester back in the public school
She was on the honor roll things seemed to be looking up and I felt like I was the rule
Then one day she lost interest in classes, homework and attending
And the principal of the high school was calling and threatening
Pulled her out and put her in to get her GED
Soon she was out within month of three
A year before she was supposed to graduate
I knew by then that I was doing things right
Enrolled me and her in community college we made the Dean’s list and acquired no student loan debt
Last may she and I graduated have started a new life and now I don’t feel things in my life are a threat
But alone I’ve raised a good child, self-published a book and kept things together
I’ve published some poetry and stories in magazines that will be on web pages forever
Even though my parents have helped me out once in a while financially
I feel lack of respect since they helped family who treated me crummy
I’m still feeling and have most of the hopeless thoughts when I was young
But I still try to steer my daughter to be different from me and hold my tongue
Those cousins with the high degree
Don’t seem to have too much on me
Both lost their jobs within a year out of college from being snobs and dishonest
But the parents just think that it was because others were being so glibbest
Both stuck alone in life working in their old age
That just mostly pays a low minimum wage
My sister divorced her husband for molesting her children still won't speak to me, told her kids I was bad
She lives in my town and over 20 years she’s never visited so by her I've been for life had
Most of all I think it's because my parents never would face reality or admit
To any wrong doing of years of abuse and neglect, something I couldn't forget
Why am I talking about this after all these years still?
Because I think that it may just possibly help me to heal
train of thought or loosely structured essay? it could be either...
i’ve been watching interview after interview and thinking gratuitously as a result. imma try and sum this up as best i can because i think it’s an ambiguous topic at times that we actually have at our fingertips and yet don’t really always address, understandably though. culture is something you’re entrenched in, inescapably at times, and when you’re in the middle of it sometimes it’s hard to see the way every day and everything is a possible opportunity for affecting the main narrative.
first thing i thought of when i started listening to eddie huang and heems discuss growing up in the 80’s and using their forms of media representation (blogging, food, music, etc) to introduce different ideas to mass audiences, was that kids in the 80’s and 90’s have really been given a valuable (though sometimes harsh) lens to view the world through. in that two decade time period media gained fuel and tech rapidly increased, and we had this rare upbringing of being detached enough from media and technology to develop authentically within our environments, learn to think critically and observe what was going on around us in the world, and yet also had enough exposure and time to evolve with the rapid change of technology to understand it better, and learn almost by necessity how to utilize it to our best interests, ration parts of our identity from it, and share parts of our identity and contributions into it.
we grew up in this transitioning time, when technology and social media hadn’t yet taken as rooted a role in life yet, but were still a big part of our lives, and where we harvested some, often much, of our values and ideas from. people began realizing soon that we had access to mass information, and the spreading of. this was a tool our parents hadn’t had at our age, so we were kind of the pioneers w/lotta internet frontiers and subcultures.
for instance, the internet has managed to foster a subculture of kids and teens finding and learning about their identities. before the internet, queer was a slur, some older people still think it is, but now it’s being reclaimed by the community, and there’s a widespread narrative from queer folks addressing their identities and re-purposing what ignorance made a weapon.
before the internet, there was no mass outrage being sparked over rape being brought to justice or innocent POC behind bars or the quality of education, or culture and global issues, these are discussions that have emerged from the information at our hands paired with our world views and personal struggles to navigate that world. and in it’s own way that’s power. we have a form of mass media where, if we try hard enough, our ideas, influences, power to empathize and communicate to spread ideas and educate on a widespread basis, can be influential. we made it what it is, and we mold it into what it is going to be and the ideas it will spread hereafter.
what’s interesting to me about this power of the internet, is dominant vs subversive narrative. 80’s/90’s gen reached teen/adult years as the US went into a period of political confusion/a dominant media main narrative of misinformation. hearing eddie and heems talk about what it was like to be a POC after 9/11 at that time was intense. eddie talked about rich white 1% kids in florida displaying an unfiltered level of brutish animosity after the event, being that many of the people they knew and their families’ claims to wealth were being threatened.
he seemed mostly horrified and interested simultaneously in the way they simplified “their problem” to a sweeping generalization; people of color, similar to reagan’s own scapegoating of POC in his personal secretary’s diary. obviously that’s wack. but what he said about these kids really intrigued me because i felt like he put words to what i’d observed myself about many middle class and upper class kids, and recently been contemplating how to get around; “these kids are like…media-trained by their parents. [meaning those who benefit from dominant/oppressive culture use the confusion tactics the media uses to run people in circles about issues to avoid actually discussing them] you could talk about these things with them forever and you’ll never have a real discussion with them until you stop taking them seriously. they understand exactly what you’re saying, they just don’t give a fuck.”
it’s compelling that 9/11 created this thought point for both of them, born in the same era, that caused the incubation of ideas surrounding dissemination of tolerance and thoughts about avoidance of discussions surrounding racism/classism/oppression in the US, and how to use education and communication to change it and repurpose allocations of power taken from cultures by the main narrative.
recently, i’ve definitely been aware of these points eddie made, in that i spend less time responding to others’ thoughts that come from ignorance or anger and more time building my own. less time responding to trolls and more time trolling trolls because i just don’t have time to waste farting around with dipshits when i could be reaching and talking to people who get it and also want to engage in discussions and environments of tolerance and respect instead of more ignorance. social media gives us that horizon of expansion, those resources, and hopefully that ability to recognize that despite the people that make us sad and cranky there are all these people still to be heard and to hear and to respond that we can reach, and the power is in our hands, it’s just about how we allocate it.
when i was about 17 i met a guy who really changed my perspective on what you can actually do to make your own voice. he had a successful career, he was a natural with business, well known for his graffiti, and pretty much lived and dressed well for free because of his social reputation and involvement in menswear. all these different factors of his individuality came together to form a career and reputation he was able to live…better than most people i knew, off of. and he had dropped out of school before he’d even walked across the senior final stage. that impressed me. who knew you could be that successful without a high school diploma? pretty fucking sweet.
we now know how to utilize social media and work your way up based on who you are not what job description you fit. how to create forms of representation and send a message through art, and actually make a living and have everything you need through applying social media to your pursuits. with the unstable economy and prices of school people began to become more aware of how they could get educated outside of an institution, get a job they loved without going to school for it, have a career because of who they knew and their networking abilities as opposed to their resume. and with how much a lot of us have to say and contribute that’s a valuable venue when used correctly and used as a vessel for the right message.
and i think, this mixture of being connected but not completely has given us a rare perspective and ability to contribute in many different ways, with many individual voices, to the narrative. we have the ability to, essentially, drown out the main narrative which we all know is a bunch of bullshit.
look at the way we even just use social media like tumblr and facebook to fuck around with advertisements and different perpetuations of culture in media, like those gifs of billboards that have a picture of a cat on it instead of an advertisement, or clipart that has been fucked around with. how, for fun, some people fuck with facebook and click on ads that don’t apply to their interests to confuse the site when it tries to collect their personal web browsing data.
in such simple ways, we tweak and rewrite the main narrative. and then we can share that with millions of people if we want to, and they can all share that too and so on. social media can be such an amazing tool. because someone can share a post on tumblr saying “does anyone else feel like…” and 50,000 other people can reblog that and suddenly the idea that you’re not the only one with this running around their mind is planted in 50,000 different minds at once. that’s basically creating awareness in a way.
i’ll stop thinking, but i still have tons in my head in response to all this stuff. just wow, really interesting. i’m getting all inspired by these 80’s babies bringing the power back to the people by dominating media with their insights on how to use it as a crux to transition into change via widespread communication of ideas. this is kinda a crucial point in time when we have an advantage and weapon, to create the world we want to live in, with.
Waiting on this girl who cant decide.
She gives you mixed signals
Because she displays the signals inside.
Her heart tells her one thing
But her mind says another
She loves you
And you know that
But she cant decide how much.
She wants to hold your hand
And sometimes she'll look at you
With this look
You dont know
She wants you to kiss her
She knows you want to,
You've told her.
But she hasn't told you.
She plays off hard to get
Because she wont give you the okay
She just needs you to kiss her
Out of the blue.
She likes the same bands as you
The same hobbies and obsessions
The same love for food and music and art
Your hearts and minds
They scream at the both of you
she tunes out her heart
And listens to her mind
As you tune out your mind
And listen to your heart
You ask her
Over and over
If she'll be your girl
She always says no
Her heart says yes
So just kiss her
So her heart will drown out her mind
Because her mind only confuses her.
Her own emotions are her worst enemy.
So just kiss me,
Out of the Blue.
All the almonds in the jar
Lightly salted, butter by the bar
Garlic in the pantry, bread on the stove
Tomato's in the oven
How do I eat food?
A mumble jumble bumble of
Living feud, oil me up
I'm about to dive in because I have no other choice.
Yup, this is a wall.
So empty stomached my eyes sink in
Pretty soon I might stink thin
How do I fast healthily?
Time is worn thin
What silly shadows dance just out of sight?
Did I just see that?
Is reality just a fabric's delight?
Oh, I'll please me, it was just the light.
I never thought I'd have to see her like this so soon. So young. So cold.
I should have listened to her. I should have talked to her more. Seen her more. She always asked me why I seemed so distant from her, I always got frustrated and denied it.
Now she's the distant one.
We would argue often. About communication. Our feelings. Her feelings. She had a very hard life. A violent alcoholic father. She grew up untainted by her surroundings, but scarred. Chronic Anxiety and Depression. She would cry often, and get mad and angry for sometimes no reason. She said she didn't know why it happened; it just did, and that I couldn't understand. That made me angry. Even though she was right; I really couldn't.
I haven't had an easy life in the past few years, but it doesn't compare to hers. I didn't know what is was like to be as depressed as she was. To be as anxious as she was. She would always check up on me, because she always worried about me. I myself, just took it and never did it for her.
What a mistake.
I remember my 17th birthday. She was more excited than I was, and couldn't wait for me to finally see what she had done for me. She was adorable when she talked about it. I spent the day with her and she made me a homemade card themed my favorite video game, and a Key Lime pie from scratch. I love Key Lime pie.
How I wish we could make it together, one last time.
A couple days after my birthday, a package she ordered came and she was ecstatic for me to finally have it. They were custom made genuine dog tags. They had my information on one tag, and a personalized message from her on the other. Her message read, "KNOWING YOU HAS MADE ALL THE DIFFERENCE, AND LOVING YOU HAS MADE MY WORLD." I wear them everywhere, even to today.
But when her birthday came around, I didn't get her anything. Not even a card. She was really upset, and I felt guilty when she mentioned it, so I never did get her anything; I felt it was too late.
Whenever she was happy, she shined brighter than the sun. She smiled and laughed and was goofy. She would make up little songs about how much she loved me, and she would do anything for me. Now, I can only imagine how she felt when I left for the night, not doing anything for her.
I knew she had had problems even before she met me. I knew she was chronically sad. I knew she had always been a rock, but had slowly started to erode and needed someone.
Why was I so selfish!?
I notice her mother is crying. Hysterically. They were so close. Her mom was so nice, always inviting me over and cooking for me even when they didn't have much food. Now, she looks like an empty husk of what she used to be. Crumpled on the floor, covered in her own tears, mourning the loss of her world.
Her younger brother sits with their dad, hugging and crying on each other, as well as the rest of her family. You can almost smell the saltiness in the air from all of the tears.
I've cried as much as I can. When I heard the news, I was in shock. I didn't want to believe she was gone. But eventually I screamed, bawled and raged at my loss. She was the only thing that mattered to me.
Now I stand here, silent and empty. My mind is numb, and all I can do is stare at her. Eyes closed, chest still, but still so beautiful. I had to battle with myself to even come and deal with seeing her like this. I finally move my stiff hand towards her curly hair and stroke it, and slowly move my hand to her shoulder. I imagine her opening her eyes and smiling at me with one of her beaming smiles. But I know it won't happen, and that's when the tears come.
I'll never see her smile, feel her lips against mine, hug her small body again. I can never hear her sweet voice again, telling me "I love you." With a glow in her eyes.
Why didn't I show her how much she meant to me? Why couldn't I swallow my pride and be a little more caring and thoughtful for her the way she never failed to be for me? Why? I'm sobbing now. I collapse to my knees and rest my hand over hers. She's freezing. I rub her hands instinctively as if it will warm them up, but it doesn't.
I just want her to wake up. I feel as if it's my fault she's in eternal silence now. Apart of the world beyond, when I want her so desperately to be back here with me. I don't want her to leave me. I feel as if I can't live without her, she was the only one I'd ever truly loved, but in the end I failed her. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her, I should have shown her more instead of using only my words!
I slowly stand up still covered in my tears, and stare at her sleeping body. I watch as one drips down onto her expressionless face. I use my thumb to gently wipe my tear away, just as I used to wipe hers. Now all I can is do think about what could have been, what I could have done, and what will never be.
"I'll miss you." I whispering through my sore choked throat, and kiss her cold forehead.
"I love you."
What would you do to stay alive?
(Johnny get's the early warning, and rushes home to his family.)
Jenny wake up! Wake up! Ok! Ok! I'm up! It's midnight. I have to be at work in the morning honey, this better be good. What is it? There's a wa... ( Johnny's interrupted by gunshots and sirens out the window.) Come on, we don't have much time to Stay Alive. (John loading their guns)
What are you talking about John, why are you loading the guns? Whose shooting outside? (He looks her with conviction.) There is no law, it's total anarchy. We gotta go now, If we want to live Jenny, I'll explain later! Folks said it wouldn't happen in our time and it's happening honey. Grab the bags prepped for us and wake Jacie! Remember the three C's John. Cool, calm collected, Breathe baby. Now's not the time to argue Jenny. This is not a drill! The trucks loaded and the rest of our guns and supplies are packed. Ok everything's gonna be fine John I'll go wake Jacie, we've practiced this scenario before. (Jenny goes across the hall) Ok hurry Jenny, My Sister Jesse and her family are heading up north to the Kuuyi Mountains, where her husband Jimmy has a cabin he's converted into a fortress. We should be able to make it there around sunrise. Now Jenny, he says he has food and a water supply for all us. I told him we'd bring the ammo and what we have to defend from anyone trying to harm us. Your nursing will come in handy if anyone of happens to be injured. (Jenny's enters the room.) Don't worry we'll be fine Jenny. Is Jacie up and ready to go? Yes, she's just tying her shoes. Ok, we don't have much time to spare before the roads are clogged. It wont be easy but we will make it. Here take these guns Jenny we're going to need them once we get there and if we want to make it out the city. I know you don't like them because your family was taken by them but Jenny they are going to keep you, I and our baby girl Jacie alive. (Jacie walks in the room and drops her duffel bag.) Dad I'm ready. I guess all your drills really did come in handy. Are you sure you can ready Jacie, I want you to carry the automatic? Yes dad, I am 16 now, I can handle the automatic. (John smiles) Really Dad, You've been teaching me how to shoot since I was 6 years old. I know sweetheart, remember just what I told you, (Jacie in unison with her dad John) "only put your finger on the trigger when you ready to shoot" "Butterfly". (Jacie smiles) How can I forget dad. (They exchange a family hug before leaving.) OK, let's go I want everybody locked and loaded off safety with one in the chamber. (car doors shut) Dad, where are we going?
(Johnny turns the key, and the engine Roars!)
To hell if we don't pray.
Another horn, another order
She skates her way over to the lime green convertible
Her red and white checkered skirt,
Standard issue for the job,
Billows in the wind, showing off just the right amount of thigh
It takes all of her balance to stand there, still,
The wheels on her skates resisting her ankles
And jot down the man’s order
Fries, burger, no pickle, and a chocolate malt
The smile on her face intensifies
As he grabs her ass
Two years at this job,
It wasn’t the first time and it won’t be the last
She returns with a tray,
Balancing the fries, burger with no pickle, and chocolate malt impeccably
Skating as gracefully as she can towards the ugly green car
The smile still stays fixed on her face
As she and the tray of food crash to the pavement
The smile seems to stay frozen on her face even as she drives home,
The stained red and white checkered skirt and apron in the back seat
She tossed them in the trash as she sped it by
And turned the radio on
We strolled up
The narrow isle
Weaving in and out
Of shopping cart barricades
And unmanaged children
Butter was 5.99
Grated Cheese 6.99
Tuna; a dollar a can
3 bags of pasta for 5 dollars
Food is indeed
For hunger may strike the gut.
But it’s nothing compared to
What it’ll do
To the fragile mind
Today in 1963 A father of four had a dream
A dream that followed from the horrors of war
Where his race had fought and died for the emancipation of Europe to let freedom ring
They had seen the extermination of the Jews, Negros and homosexuals they believed in a better world
Yet returning to find segregation still rife
Southern politicians still believing them slaves and a sub class
He told them to rise from the valleys of segregation and they came and peacefully protested
He said the government had failed to cash a promissory cheque, he was right. Lincoln's dream was not the freedom promised.
They marched silently past the National Guard, with dignity and were hosed by the fire department
Yet the fire within their hearts burned stronger
Change came after his death and slowly
Fifty years on Dr King is gone yet his dream is as vivid today as it was then
His dream of judging by character not by colour has been replaced by those who now judge by religion.
Once again the injustice, interposition and Nullification
Once again the world is at a crossroads
Creeds now walk alone others rejoice in killing
The concept of all created equal is no longer a dream for all
In places it is reality, in other lands their only dream
As we now sit on the edge of reason poised to once again bomb another creed we are once again looking for a solution
We have a Negro US president, Female heads of state, multi cultural countries in peace and yet we kill over gods creed and belief
I would remind them of his words...
As we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotes of civil rights "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities.
Now read those words Obama, Cameron, Putin and your peers. March ahead for men women and children have no highway home or lodging in Syria. They have little cover and no food and little water. I don't claim the solution is easy but Is military action by bombs from above your best option?
The coming days will tell.
It seems the Kings, Kennedy's and those who believed peace and harmony was an option are now in the minority in power.
To close with his words.
And when this happens, when we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every hamlet, every state every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of gods children, black men white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual,
" Free at last! Free at last. GOD ALMIGHTY, we are free at last.
Now add Muslim, Arab, Sunni and any other measure of colour and creed.
May you and whoever your god, country or colour may be. Live in freedom and respect others.
May we learn.
You told me you were ready, that this was not a huge deal to you. I had been waiting a long time for this to happen and you told me you were ready, so i believed you until i stepped one foot in the door and i could see the fear deep inside your corneas. That fear has been resonating there for the past few days, knowing that you had lied to, not only yourself, but me as well. You were not ready for this but you told me otherwise. So i took you out to dinner and you did not eat your food, you even had the audacity to tell me that i was making you nauseous, that you were holding back vomit. So i told you that if you were that scared i would just go home but you insisted that i stayed. We drove back to your house and i laid on your couch and you cuddled up next to me. I knew in my head that you were not ready so i did not try anything. I wrapped my arms around you and we watched the movie together. But at the last second, before i left, you kissed me. And all hell broke loose after that. I felt as if i stole you away from your body, stole you away from the things that you are comfortable with. I felt guilty and angry that I was the one you chose to be your first. You were not ready for this and i could feel your body trembling underneath of me as if in agreement to what i was thinking but i let it happen anyway. And if there was any way that i could reverse what happened and never meet you in the first place, i would do it in a heartbeat. i broke your heart and i was your first. I think i'm more broken about this than you are. But the thing was, you never really kissed me. You did this because you were afraid to lose me. As if giving yourself to me was a form of glue, that if our skin touched together we would become inseparable but that is not how this works. You kissed your fear instead of me.