I’m not sure of her name, but her name isn’t really important anymore…it’s what she did to me everyday, without fail, while I stood at my locker in 6th grade. I don’t remember when it started, I surely did nothing to provoke it, but the girl who had a locker directly next to mine would find a way to ‘nonchalantly’ smash me into my locker, as if by accident, each day at school. She would kind of smile and laugh to herself afterwards, and then actually strike up a conversation with me as if nothing had happened. And like some frightened, pathetic little puppy I would just go along with her sordid charade.
It became a love/hate relationship of sorts, the victim and her oppressor. A sickening ritual, day after day, pain and then a small shred of humanity. I don’t know why I never spoke up, I never snitched, I just took the abuse, over and over and over again. I was angry, afraid, hurt, and yet for whatever reason I never lashed out, which was odd because we were both the same size…she just seemed a lot stronger. She probably was. She probably still is.
What was truly incredible to me though was not the fact that I survived this ongoing, relentless, blunt force trauma, but that on the very last day of school, out of nowhere, she turned to me and apologized.
I remember just standing there at my locker, dumbfounded. I don’t remember if I said anything back to her and it’s not like we became friends that summer, or ever actually spoke to each other after that school year, but to this day it is something that still takes my breath away.
Maybe she was being hit at home, or someone was picking on her. Maybe she felt angry, worthless, afraid, and I was someone she could safely and quite easily take those feelings out on, I don’t know…but I forgave her back then, and I forgive her still.
I wish I could say I’d do things differently today. I wouldn’t take that crap from anyone, but I often still feel like that wimp of a girl, too afraid to speak up, too afraid to hit back…but I’m ok with that.
I’d rather be remembered for the love I tried to share than for the scars & bruises I could’ve left.
It's funny, those mirror images. Small bracelets of macaroni-turned jewels,
Costly and pointless. Plastic race cars that mom and dad bought me
Zooming around and breaking vases that once
Held cigarette ash. Flowers wrote an essay on lung cancer,
A peer who, on a high night, was put into the vase.
Flora lungs are surreal.
Imagine a flower the shape of me: my blue hair and eyes the petals and bud,
My body a stem and lungs are the leaves,
Ripped out of my sternum and strewn into the antigravity that surrounds me.
A mirror image in another world,
But somehow not the same. Like nuns and whores both
Screaming to God as their tits are groped and abused.
Collisions with the coffee table tip the coughing flower and let sailors tug on the ropes,
Sailing on the sea of liquid ash and sing "yo-no yo-ho" all the way to the white carpet.
A memorial. To the woman who was saved hereby flashing lights and muffled sirens,
The drugs were too heavy.
And then we sit playing scrabble and watching the news. Oh that poor girl.
It doesn't matter though. It is far enough away to only think of palindromes to click in the
Plastic squares, a perfect fit for a triple word score.
But the score doesn't matter. It is what the word represents.
Reviver: one who brings back.
A necromancer? The zombified critters under the stairs because you felt bad about killing them.
They ate your food, but you conducted a mass murder with that sweet poison that crystallizes
Their blood. Their parallel selves are still alive aren't they? The realms are separated by a thread,
Nothing more, so why must they be dead?
Why must they be characters in a movie? Everything is a lie, even the
Letters laid on the game board.
The words we speak is a made up language, the god most believe in
Is a figment of imagination. And so is mine. They are just creatures
Written in a book by drunken sailors, man himself,
Or warped versions of a goddess created by hags, high of of the leaves
Vining in their flowerbeds. Clouds came down because of the warm brandy and
Smoke from their pipes, polluted and dirty.
Fog does not belong here, this Christmas, but at least it will mask the brick wall that
Everyone seems to crash into.
It is a theory of course; people with glass skulls and hollow brains won't live through it,
But it is worth a shot. No one knows whether you will be crushed, or the wall.
On the other side, the other half of the world, the mirrored side,
Exactly the same as the one behind. Nothing new, but everything to see. You haven't looked until
You've seen the opposite of yourself.
Dont blame me if I just stop talking,
Dont blame me if I never speak to you again.
Its not my fault.
I cant stand to look at you anymore.
I'm going away,
There will be no more...
No more of me.
Dont blame me,
If when you try to talk to me,
I turn the other way.
I've been hurt too much,
I'm trying to protect myself.
my master comes to split my bird tongue
so i may speak humanly possible
directly out of my darkness
is that what they still call it?
they are mistaken
i'm all flavors of natural light shifting
holding upon the glide plane
of two opened wings
my flight consisted openly in plain sight
but they insist, see only the omens
inflicted upon me
not the intended creature i am
once seen retrieving a pale blue balloon
released into the heat of a summer afternoon
returned to you, a very lonely child
i kept you company
i remain here fierce and supporting
because you deserved more than that
and so much more now
since you have survived and grown
into your own quintessential bold blackness
that corporeal purity
and timid not
becoming a bird of consequence
the first voice of the mornings
that unmistakable eagerness
to caw and scream your love for life
onto the deafness of the world..
it's time to play
The only thing worse than being with you,
is not being with you.
The only thing worse than you talking to me,
is you not talking to me.
Every time I try and go cold turkey,
I find my hand automatically
I grasp and open my fist,
but nothing is there.
You thawed me out,
a task previously thought impossible.
I can't stop melting.
How dare you give me these feelings,
turn me into this,
when you get to walk around solid
I'm a wreck.
Unrequited love is too pretty a term for whatever this is,
the ugly, confusing mess that has
The one you engendered.
I hope you're happy now.
I hope you can sleep soundly at night,
whilst I toss and turn between images of you.
I hope you can look me in the eye when we speak,
whilst I try hard to find the floor,
the clock on the wall,
as interesting as possible.
most of all,
that one day you'll open your eyes
and finally see me.
I'll be waiting.
Sad thing is, I think you know it.
NELSON MANDELA, NUMBER 46664 IS DEAD; EULOGICALLY ELEGIZING DIRGE FOR SON OF AFRICA, HOPE OF HUMANITY AND PERMANENT FLAME OF DEMOCRACY
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya; firstname.lastname@example.org)
Nelson Mandela, South Africa's anti-apartheid beacon, has died
One of the best-known political prisoners of his generation,
South Africa's first black president, He was 95.
His struggle against apartheid and racial segregation
Lead to the vision of South Africa as a rainbow nation
In which all folks were to be treated equally regardless of color
Speaking in 1990 on his release from Pollsmoor Prison
After 27 years behind bars, Mandela posited;
I have fought against white domination and
I have fought against black domination
I have cherished the idea of a democratic
And a free society in which all persons live together
In harmony and with equal opportunity
It is an ideal which I hope to live for and to achieve
But if need be, it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die,
Fortunately, he was never called upon
To make such a sacrifice
And the anti-apartheid campaign did produce results
A ban on mixed marriages between whites and folks of color,
This was designed to enforce total racial segregation
Was lifted in 1985
Mandela was born on July 18, 1918
His father Gadla named him "Rolihlahla,"
Meaning “troublemaker” in the Xhosa language
Perhaps parental premonitions of his ability to foment change.
Madiba, as he is affectionately known
By many South Africans,
Was born to Gadla Henry Mphakanyiswa,
a chief, and his third wife Nosekeni Fanny
He grew up with two sisters
In the small rural village of Qunu
In South Africa's Eastern Cape Province.
Unlike other boys his age,
Madiba had the privilege of attending university
Where he studied law
He became a ringleader of student protest
And then moved to Johannesburg to escape an arranged marriage
It was there he became involved in politics.
In 1944 he joined the African National Congress (ANC),
Four years before the National Party,
Which institutionalized racial segregation, came to power
Racial segregation triggered mass protests
And civil disobedience campaigns,
In which Mandela played a central role
After the ANC was banned in 1961
Mandela founded its military wing Umkhonto we Sizwe
The Spear of the Nation
As its commander-in-chief,
He led underground guerrilla attacks
Against state institutions.
He secretly went abroad in 1962
To drum up financial support
And organize military training for ANC cadres
On his return, he was arrested
And sentenced to prison
Mandela served 17 years
On the notorious Roben Island, off Cape Town,
Mandela was elected as South Africa's first black president
On May 10, 1994
Cell number five, where he was incarcerated,
Is now a tourist attraction
From 1988 onwards, Mandela was slowly prepared
For his release from prison
Just three years earlier he had rejected a pardon
This was conditional
On the ANC renouncing violence
On 11 February 1990,
After nearly three decades in prison,
Mandela, the South African freedom beacon was released
He continued his struggle
For the abolition of racial segregation
In April 1994,
South Africa held its first free election.
On May 10,
Nelson Mandela became South Africa's first elected black president,
Mandela jointly won
The Nobel Peace Prize
With Frederik de Clerk in 1993
On taking office
Mandela focused on reconciliation
Between ethnic groups
And together with Archbishop Desmond Tutu,
He set up the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC)
To help the country
Come to terms
With the crimes committed under apartheid
After his retirement
From active politics in 1999,
Madiba dedicated himself
To social causes,
Helping children and HIV-AIDS patients,
His second son
Makgatho died of HIV-AIDS
In 2005 at the age of 54,
South Africans have fought
a noble struggle against the apartheid
But today they face a far greater threat
Mandela he posited in a reference to the HIV-AIDS pandemic,
The ANC slogan of 1994; A better life for all
Was fulfilled only
For a small portion of the black elite
Crime and lack of job prospects
Continue to threaten the Rainbow Nation,
On the international stage
Mandela acted as a mediator
In the Burundi civil war
And also joined criticism
Of the Iraq policy
Of the United States and Great Britain
He won the Nobel Prize in 1993
And played a decisive role
Into bringing the first FIFA World Cup to Africa,
His beloved great-granddaughter
Zenani Mandela died tragically
On the eve of the competition
And he withdrew from the public life
With the death of Nelson Mandela
The world loses a great freedom-struggleer
And heroic statesman
His native South Africa loses
At the very least a commanding presence
Even if the grandfather of nine grandchildren
Was scarcely seen in public in recent year
Media and politicians are vying
To outdo one another with their tributes
To Nelson Mandela, who himself disliked
The personality cult
That's one of the things
That made him unique,
Nelson Mandela was no saint,
Even though that is how the media
Are now portraying him
Every headline makes him appear more superhuman
And much of the admiration is close to idolatry
Some of the folks who met him
Say they felt a special Mandela karma
In his presence.
Madiba magic was invoked
Whenever South Africa needed a miracle,
Mandela himself was embarrassed
By the personality cult
Only reluctantly did he agree to have streets
Schools and institutes named after him
To allow bronze statues and Mandela museums
To be built
A trend that will continue to grow.
He repeatedly pointed
To the collective achievements
Of the resistance movement
To figures who preceded him
In the struggle against injustice
And to fellow campaigners
Such as Mahatma Gandhi, Albert Luthuli
Or his friend and companion in arms
Oliver Tambo who today stands in Mandela's shadow,
Tambo helped create the Mandela legend
Which conquered the world
A tale in which every upright man
And woman could see him
Or herself reflected,
When Prisoner Number 46664 was released
After 27 years behind bars
He had become a brand
A worldwide idol
The target of projected hopes
And wishes that no human being
Could fulfill alone,
Who would dare scratch?
The shining surface of such a man
List his youthful misdemeanors
His illegitimate children
Who would mention his weakness for women?
And female journalists
With whom he flirted
In a politically incorrect way
When already a respected elder statesman?
Who would speak out critically?
Against the attacks
He planned when he headed the ANC
Armed wing Umkhonto we Sizwe
And who would criticize the way
He would often explode in anger
Or dismiss any opinions other than his own?
His record as head of government
Is also not above reproach
Those years were marked by pragmatism
And political reticence
Overdue decisions were not taken
Day to day matters were left to others
When choosing his political friends
His judgment was not always perfect
A Mandela grandchild is named
After Colonel Muammar Gaddaffi
Seen from today's perspective
Not everything fits
The generally accepted
Picture of visionary and genius,
But Mandela can be excused
Because despite everything
He achieved more than ordinary human beings
His long period of imprisonment
Played a significant role here
It did not break him, it formed him
Had been a university of life for Mandela once posited
He learned discipline there
In dialogue with his guards
He learnt humility, patience and tolerance
His youthful anger dissolved
He mellowed and acquired
The wisdom of age
When he was at last released
Mandela was no longer
Burning with rage,
He was now a humanized revolutionary
Mandela wanted reconciliation
At almost any price
His own transformation
Was his greatest strength
The ability to break free
From ideological utopia
And to be able to see the greater whole
That those who think differently
Are not necessarily enemies
The ability to listen,
To spread the message of reconciliation
To the point of betraying what he believed in,
Only in this way could he
Serve as a role model
To both black and white humanity
, communists and entrepreneurs,
Catholics and Muslims.
He became a visional missionary,
An ecclesiast of brotherly love
Wherever he was, each humanity was equal
He had respect for musicians and presidents
Monarchs and cleaning ladies
He remembered names
And would ask about relatives
He gave each humanity his full attention
With a smile, a joke, a well aimed remark,
He won over every audience
His aura enveloped each humanity,
Even his political enemies,
That did not qualify him
For the status of demi-god
But he was idolized and rightly so
He must be named in the same breath
As Mahatma Gandhi, the Dalai Lama
Or Martin Luther King
Mandela wrote a chapter of world history
Even Barack Obama posited
He would not have become
President of the United States
Without Mandela as a role model,
And so it is not so important
That Mandela is now portrayed
Larger than life
The fact that not everything
He did in politics succeeded is a minor matter
His achievement is to have lived
A life credibly characterized
By humanism, tolerance and non-violence,
When Mandela was released
From prison in 1990,
The old world order of the Cold War era
Mandela stood at the crossroads and set off in the right direction
How easily he could have played with fire, sought revenge,
Or simply failed; He could have withdrawn from public life or,
Like other companions in arms, earned millions,
Two marriages failed because of the political circumstances
His sons died tragically long before him
It was only when he was 80 and met his third wife,
That he again found warmth,
Partnership and private happiness,
Setbacks did not leave him bitter
Because he regarded his own life
As being less important
Than the cause he believed in
He served the community humbly,
With a sense of responsibility
Of duty and willingness to make sacrifices
Qualities that are today only rarely encountered,
How small and pathetic his successors now seem
Their battles for power will probably now be fought
Even more unscrupulously than in the past
How embarrassing are his own relatives
Who argued over his legacy at his hospital bed
Mandela was no saint
But a man with strengths and weaknesses,
Shaped by his environment
It will be hard to find a greater person
Just a little bit more Mandela every day
Would achieve a great deal
Not only in Africa
But in the bestridden geographies
Epochs and diversities of man,
In my post dirge I will ever echo words of Mandella
He shone on the crepuscular darkness of the Swedish
Academy, where cometh the Nobel glory;
Development and peace are indivisible
Without peace and international security
Nations cannot focus
On the upliftment
Of the most underprivileged of their citizens.
What is Love?
I'm not talking about
What she where's Above
Low cut shirts
And tight fitted jeans.
Just to use what's In-between
But what she says.
But it's how we show it
Is always defined,
by a persons Action
Not two people that have
Two people that have,
reason to Believe
The people who show no
I love you soo much Click
Lets see what you're wearing above Click
A couple with
So we both have more,
to talk about.
"What are you doing tomorrow"
"How did your day go?"
Because we all have to borrow,
we're all in debt for the time
In our lives.
And that -First time smile-
Where cheeks are turned,
hearts are burned.
With the same response
"It took you a while"
It takes the right person
To take just a while
To see if smiles aren't
Fake to see if they don't.
Shatter and Break.
A kiss is the biggest,
It means I'm defeated
It means I'm the weakest
Because it has more meaning
Than the greatness
Of just locking lips?
Do you see, what I'm Seeing?
See because were Free
And not just
But we have Free
Reason to Speak
And it gives us Free
I Love You
Are chucked in to the wild
And used soo freely
Would make a person melt
The feelings are warm.
They feel soo familiar
So be careful how they're used
because the words also kill
Are they Free now?
With jewels, clothes, and
materialistic things don't
Bring the Love she brings to me.
"I've been broke(n) all my life"
All the points
Point you in the right direction
For Success to Succeed
This is Reality
I pass like a ghost in the halls
floating on arrogance
You did it once to me and so I'll do it
twice to you
Don't bother reaching out
for your hands will only feel nothingness
And the light you marveled at has gone out
Don't say my name again unless you want it
to crack away at your lips
And please don't pretend that we never happened next time we speak.
the quietest words are the loudest
knowledge and open eyes to the real world
through prose i speak and speak alone
nobody encouraged me to be outspoken
i was a shut-in, trapped for months
like anne frank, with only power in writing
i found power in words, nobody taught me
how to live, but i learned how to exist in
a world lost in it's sin, a mediocre society
lost in it's power of indulgences and faith
with paper and pen, i can capture honesty
the most brutal tragedy, the most beautiful love
i've never felt intense fear, like hanging off a cliff fear
but i've been pushed to that cliff one too many times
i've always been scared of heights and losing someone
but my fears are all in my head, my heart is power
my heart is courage, my heart is love
it is the first and last thing i have
oh, rising sun on east horizon.
shine your light through purple hues.
sunbeam fingers reaching long
spreading warmth ‘cross mountains blue.
awake, oh towering pine majestic
for deep below your roots flows pure
crystal liquid falls in dance
to fill each pool with nature's mirror
this my Oregon, i call her home
where skies of grey and winter long
chills milder souls to the bone
yet hardy stock from which I come
know her best, still to be sung.
her rocky crags where eagles soar
her mountain lakes, her breaking shores
het rapid’s ripple, current strong
her open skies and painted rocks
from each she springs alive with flame
a floral tapestry, her fields ablaze.
here streams cascade through canyons tall
tumbling long in waterfall
through rock and mountain, a gorge cut deep
a bridge to history, the gods they speak (1
a people weary, a journey long
struggling forward they sang their song.
first the solo, small band of men
discovery's song, a brave brethren (2
an orchestra growing, families joined in
they came for land, they stayed for joy
smitten by beauty, they wrote our lore (3
today her wonder, her majesty
calls to her young, “come, walk with me,
come taste my bounty from forests green
from lakes, from streams, from ocean deep
from waving fields of amber grains
abundant yields, endure my rains
come sip my wines, my vineyards flow
come drink my waters, fresh winter’s snow
drawn deep from wells, my streams below
my plains and valleys, my hills and dales
i offer richness within my veil
when journey’s burden becomes too great
find respite in my sunset’s slate
my star-kissed skies they offer thee
my arms, my breast, thy comfort be."
i am hardly an expert on this subject, projecting here only my viewpoint and perspective garnered since my arrival in my late teens. hidden meanings tied to Oregon history abound here. for some reference i invite you to join me on a quick journey: