If you don't afford me the same respect
That I afford you
How dare you expect me to hold my tongue
Keep my silence
Look down, look away, so as not to offend
your darling pride
How dare you pretend that you're all
Supreme
Though you are almost hypocritical
You might delude
Yourself into believing yourself fair
But you're anything
But fair in your dealings, anything
but respectful
How dare you tell us that we have to keep
Shut and follow
When you barely set the brightest example
No one expects
You to be a perfect idol, but you're just vile
In your treatment
We might be below you for now, but one
Day we'll go on
To become the future generation, the leaders,
The pioneers
So lady, please talk nicely because even though
I avert my eyes
Try and keep my tone flat, even I have a threshold
When I break
And look at you finally, with the eyes that scream
'Anger! Hate!'
Be careful. I might not make the best grades, and I
Certainly don't
Believe I do. It isn't even my first priority but I am
Still your student
Still obliged to you but even I won't back off if you
Start talking down
Like I am a pesky bug that needs wiping away
I am not
Going to simply avert my eyes then and look away
I will stand
Scream out the truth I believe, I see, the truth of you
Being totally unfit
For such a holy profession as teaching

they spoke to me and reassured
that the house was made of wooden doors
i couldn't look as the body lay
face down in blood with hands and feet on floor
but her voice echoed like a melody
running through the corridor just before he left
how could i resist such an offer
which only required my arms and wrists in cleft?
there was more to separating sins
than a focused mind chained to a steady hand
she was the witch in it all
yet i was the fool to have supplied her demand


her words ran through my mind like a metaphor
as i walked to pull the curtains and close the door
there were eyes beside, inside and below
still all i recognized was the familiar sounding blow
the splatter of relief, the push of regret
the drenching touch of guilt set to infinite
my body turned to face a shadowed form of deceit
dimpled cheeks and glowing satisfaction head to feet
i'd done her work and paid the price for naivety
within a minute she ran from there to beyond infinity
all that was left to see was a man down on his knees
contemplating a clenching self-inflicted please


but who could hear through a room with sound-proofed walls?
Who would recognize a plea for mercy through a set of wooden doors?
And who besides myself saw sin dripping through the floors?

I'm going to be somebody someday.

I'm going to matter, be something
worth the minute it would have taken to say 'hi'.

I'm going to be loved, more than just temporarily.

I'm going to be worth more than a birthday card
with no greeting, no hugs, no wishes.

I'm going to be somebody you can't touch,
Someone happy, somebody with someone to come home to.

I'm going to be someone, without you.

Whose job is it to make sure our kids are educated properly.
The parents are putting all the blame solely on me.

I was always told that a parent is a child's first teacher.
Although, you want to place the blame on the public school system and teachers.

Why doesn't he know how to read and tie his shoe?
But....he can unlock different levels that were unknown to you.
Nintendo's Wii, PS3 and Xbox 360 are more important to you and your children....not a lesson sent home from me.

He can count to 25.....although he doesn't recognize the numbers when he sees them.  
Parents continue to say that I don't teach enough and I don't know what I'm doing.

My response is this.....some of you ruin the children.  You want to be their friend and dress them in name brand clothes and sneaks.
Meanwhile....he doesn't recognize the seven days that create the week.

I asked him to read and he became upset and pushed his book on the floor.
He used inappropriate language and said "I don't want to be in this class anymore!

He's in seventh grade and reads on a first grade level.
So....my question is this.....is it my fault or the teachers who came before?
That he's not on grade level when he enters my door.

Homework rarely comes back when I send it home.....although he has a new iPod and an iPhone.
The interNet and social media.....has a strong hold on our youth.

The sad thing about this is......people won't admit that this has a hint of truth.
It still takes a village to raise a child....but things are not the way they used to be.....and you can't tell people about the children that live under the same roof.

We need to go back to the core principals of teaching our children. Teaching begins at home. That's where I first learned....to read and to write.

A little discipline never hurt anyone....it encourages them to learn and  to do things right.

My question to you and it's open for discussion ......
Whose job is it ?

Do not stand at my grave and weep..
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awake in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star-shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry..
I am not there. I did not die.

a girlfriend came in
built me a bed
scrubbed and waxed the kitchen floor
scrubbed the walls
vacuumed
cleaned the toilet
the bathtub
scrubbed the bathroom floor
and cut my toenails and
my hair.
then
all on the same day
the plumber came and fixed the kitchen faucet
and the toilet
and the gas man fixed the heater
and the phone man fixed the phone.
noe I sit in all this perfection.
it is quiet.
I have broken off with all 3 of my girlfriends.
I felt better when everything was in
disorder.
it will take me some months to get back to normal:
I can't even find a roach to commune with.
I have lost my rythm.
I can't sleep.
I can't eat.
I have been robbed of
my filth.

Alone now in a strange country,
feeling myself a stranger,
On this bright festival day
I doubly pine for my kinsfolk.
Far away, I know my brothers
will be climbing the heights
With dogwood sprays in their jackets,
and one man missing!

I think sometimes
We have to learn
The hard way
Running with scissors
Simply because
You know
You aren't
Supposed to
Its easy to get caught
Its easy to do the things
We know we aren't supposed to
Sometimes the thrill
Of crossing the line
Knowing that
We are getting away
When we think
We have everyone fooled
Ultimately
All it takes
Is that one time
Too many
Before life
Has a way
Of smacking you
Its always fun and games
Until someone
Pokes an eye out