If I die in a school shooting
I'll never go home again.
My room will sit unused,
A capsule frozen in time,
A snapshot of how I was.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my dog again.
She will sit at the front door
Waiting for me and wondering,
Why I never came home

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never graduate from high school.
My yearbooks will sit stacked
Stopped short of their goal,
Missing years that should have been

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my mom again.
She will sit distraught,
Planning a funeral
For a child taken from her.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my friends again.
They'll sit together, missing me.
One empty seat among them,
A constant reminder of their loss

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my little sister again.
She will sit through high school
Knowing I can't guide her through,
That she has to figure it out alone

If I die in a school shooting
My school will be stained.
Pools of students lives will sit,
Blood tattoos on the brick structures,
Marks of death ground into it.

If I die in a school shooting
Everyone will wear black.
They'll send their thoughts and prayers
To a town marred by death,
Forever to be the home of a shooting.

If I die in a school shooting
Will the world change?
Or will I become one of hundreds  
Of kids who have to die?
What will it take?

If things continue this way
Children will have to live in fear.
They'll look over their shoulders
Always worried and wondering,
If they'll die in a school shooting.
The state of Florida is now home to the two most deadly mass shootings in American history. Pulse Nightclub was attacked in my city, I have friends who attend Marjory Stoneman Douglas in Parkland. My little sister often fears going to school. I'm afraid to graduate and leave her. I want to be able to protect her if something happens. I hate that we have a reason to be afraid... That it's reasonable to have these fears. I hate it so f*cking much.
symbol of contemporary life
packaged, preserved,
instructions on the side.

simplicity of modern day,
pop stamped symmetrical;
hunter gatherer.

collect them into rows
italian chopped tomatoes
best before date, barcode.

tin can still bites,
like bramble thorns,
to repel against harvest.

boxed up comfortable living
adding edge to expectancy
countering convenience.
April 2018  (draft scribbles in 2015)
KRM Mar 6
Oh, Andy-
speak to me in paints:
red, yellow, blue

When I told you I wouldn't be good at this,
an inability to sketch hands that punched at everything leaving me weak.
Keane's sorrow filled eyes upon oil made more sense to me.

I was never angry or mean, just sad and hopeless.
Lichtenstein was more your speed with obscene images of topless women
and dialogue of broken hearts.

Van Gogh never made sense, but his attention to detail caught my eye.
To not know what goes on in your own head is identifiable so,
my head is art crafted by Picasso.

they hospitalize you once you've lopped your ear off
when giving a part of themselves to a lover.
I'm not cut out for this- the starving artist,
the tragic sketcher,
or the natural- born painter.

I've calloused my hands,
shed tears on pages of sketchbooks
put paint that looks childlike
and nothing worthwhile,
in all the time spent learning,
I've never learned how to be an artist.

I thought it was the mantra to be pained and miserable,
but you accounted for bold choices and vivid primary shades.
I feel betrayed, that my art alone, isn't enough to be good.

They will never frame my name,
or immortalize flaws in which could never be erased.

Like our conversation in my dream:
"I can't be mean." -Me
"Killing yourself isn't much different" -You

So Andy, what is the color I'm feeling? If it isn't blue?
A dream I had of speaking with Andy Warhol
“Life is a precious thing. I've learned that in my time on this earth.”
Life is a precious thing. I’ve learned that in my time on this earth.

“15 whole years of being a speck in oblivion.”
Seventeen years of being a speck in oblivion.

“I'm crying as I speak these words. I wish I could have made a mark on this world.”
This time I’m not crying as I write this. I see that I don’t need to make my mark.

“You know...... Just one thing to be remembered by. God this is so fault in our stars.”
I don’t need to be remembered widely. Living in a few hearts is all I need.

“I'm not ready for this. Three weeks to do what? Sit here and rot away?”
I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready but everyday is a gift to live and enjoy.

“Sleep and say goodbye to everyone I care about. This isn't how life should work.”
Goodbyes will never get easier but they’re never forever and that’s how life should work.

“You're supposed to grow old with the man of your dreams and tell stories to your grandkids.”
I’m going to grow old with the love of my life and recall my glory days with them.

“To get married and run off with cans on the back of your car.”
I’m going to get married in an old church and drive off in a classic car.

“I haven't even gotten to go to prom and dance with the guy I like.”
Prom this past year was amazing. I’ve never felt more loved than dancing in his arms.

“Because I don't care what people think. I want to go to college and stress out about school and homework and tests.”
I could care less what people think. I’m going off to college next year. I’m stressed about applications, and homework, and papers.

“That’s what teenagers do. They don't have to worry about how long their going to live and if their best friend will come and say goodbye.”
That’s just what teenagers do. I’m lucky that I no longer have to worry about how long I’m going to live.

“They have two arms and two legs. They do sports and hang in groups.”
I’m missing one of my legs. I run track and play basketball. I see my friends most every weekend.

“They go to the mall and the skate park. They don't have to care about anything, but I can't help but care because I can't stand see someone suffer the way I have.”
We hang out at the mall and each others’ houses. We all care about something, we’ve all felt pain, and we all don’t want another to feel the pain we’ve had.

“I know things could be worse, but they could be better too.”
Things could always be worse, but they don’t get better than this.
A response to 15 year old me's poem "Me ranting and Crying about wanting what can never happen"
Focus on the good, and
Remove the bad/negative in your life. Look with "fresh
Eyes" and
See the beauty that this world
Has to offer.....

Except we're destroying our world and each other
Yet no one cares. We need to wake up, and
Each of us make a change---Together we can
S**top this and make our world better!
©2017 McNally/Flanders, Inc.
I wrote this last month and now have a chance to upload it.
I love this song and wrote this in like 10 minutes.
Song title by Andy Grammer
Tyrus Jun 2017
A classroom of laughter,
And a little girl on her own,
The harsh critique of one popular child,
And all the geese they'll follow,
Difference isn't acceptance,
In their eyes she was weird,
An outcast, she had few,
Only until this very day,
I speak in the third person,
That little girl was once me.

But now things have moved on,
To lands of leather and made up faces,
And those school kids still un-accepting,
But his voice it carries me through harsh winds,
My gloomy days far below the horizon,
I can breathe with my head now held high,
No more fear for my own safety,
He's brought me this far,
I know we'll finish this journey together,
All hands in hands,
I may have fallen, but my wings are not broken,
Wounds tightly shut, the scars fading away,
I wear my pride on my sleeve,
And my love for the boy with that voice,
My blue eyed savior.
Umm...i have an OBSESSION with Andy Biersack, so uh, I wrote a sappy poem about him.
jdotingham May 2017
the birth of a hipster (in denial),
so pose for the camera (and cover that smile),
                    silhouettes are as edgy as a circle can be,
                    3-D induced make belief.
so deny all you want; the fashion speaks/
it's a lifestyle when youA hipster/28|7\12-days-a-week.&
        
hit me up before the trend, no positivi-tea, just a cynical-coffee-blend. DRIPster that drink, make sure to blink and for crying out loud: do it whatever [that is] quietly over that god.damn.kitchen.sink!
     but edgy as a circle (you are)
     _but
         _but
             _BUT!
you *aint no
warhol superstar.
jdotingham Apr 2017
filter tips [between your] finger tips,
          lean right in for
a cigarette kiss
          &
i'll brush your hair right off your eyes,
*touch.your.neck
           &
carress.your.thighs.
extract from my Epic poem Andy + Co.
Go out and change the world;
Only you can change you. Show
Others Kindness and end the hate.
Differences makes us unique.

Together is the way
Only way we can make this world

Better.
Everyone has their own beliefs, opinions, views

And we can agree to disagree--that's okay.
Life will be alright if we all got along.
I** know it sucks and hard sometimes-everyone struggles-it
Varies-person to person, but we'll be okay.
Each day is a new day-So live it like it's the last.

(Happiness happens to when you worry
About you not what others might be doing. Your
Life is yours not others--
Live it your way and forget the rest, but give respect-
Everybody has a right to
Live their own life the way they want.
Understanding all beliefs are out there is okay not
Just your's- No one is perfect, but together-maybe
All of us- can end this
Hate in this world.)
Written in a few minutes of picking the title from an Andy Grammer song. We are all in this together. Another 2 part poem.
©McNally/Flanders, Inc. 2017
jdotingham Jan 2017
they wait,
                 rock n roll music plays,
                                                      john­ny b goode runs through their veins,
                 distorted views fuel their brain,
they wait,
!for the walk on the wild side.!
they create,
                   dancing oh so late,
                                                      inspi­ration runs through their veins,
                   in hazy hotel rooms they say, what wisdom days,
they create,
!for that walk on the wild side!
they rebel,
                  with that distinct smell,
                                                          ­  of vodka and cigarettes,
                  god knows what else,
they rebel,
!for that walk on the wild side!
he leaves,
                  his "bad influence friends",
                                                       ­    no pretense runs through his veins,
                  no shorter way to live your day,
he leaves,
for that walk on the wild side.
then bang!
a silver-haired burger eating contemporary [silent interview speaking] bold colour choice (and creative flair) boy is gone.
[the starman had written a song]
                                                           ­    the silver haired boy had gone
                              !to the place in the wild sky.!
but not for long...
                                     james dean was there and looked down on him and said "hey man, your 15 minutes aint over for the ride
!you gotta walk on that wild side!"
then that other guy, reminisces on his days, in the place
with the group that plays
and creates
and taint
4art.*
&
_
.
d.d. #36 - you know whom you are my friend.
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