Rainy nights thinking about Rwanda,
fog seeps out of the woods.
Like smoke, it crawls across the fields.
My head lights attempt to cut through it,
as it intensifies, inhibiting my drive,
but it’s nothing compared to Rwanda.

I arrive at the Mobil,
wait five minutes for the cashier to notice I’m here.
When she does, she hobbles over.
I attempt to buy a pack of backwoods,
my card gets declined,
but it’s nothing compared to Rwanda.

I get in my car,
and have a fit when I can’t find my keys,
but it’s nothing compared to Rwanda.

I begin to drive,
get cut off and curse fellow man,
but it’s nothing compared to Rwanda.

I ***** and I moan,
an entitled little ****,
but I’m alive,


which many can’t say after Rwanda.

i wonder
why we feel
a sense
of entitlement
for things
      or even for people
we don't even want.

You, know I've given this some thought
and these following words come straight out of my heart.

Entitled.

That's everyone's favorite word to describe everyone my age
They seem to look at us with disdain, and in some cases blatant rage
But I gave it a day to simmer over
And you know what?
We are entitled. All of us are.
We're entitled to a world we didn't Choke to death with coal, fracking, poisoned water and cars.
We're entitled to an age when you don't get arrested and incarcerated for token up with some friends and blazing, or for protecting our loved ones ending up behind bars

You're right, we're entitled to an Era when you don't have to carry debt to the grave to pay off a 4 year investment
And a world where we can love and live as who we want, without judgement,
Now, I know put of shape while you read or hear this you might get bent.

Entitled.

You're right, but not in the way that you think
Because you've thrown everything at us but the proverbial kitchen sink.
But we're still here, and not going away.
Call us entitled all you want, but we're taking that word back today.

Glass wasn't made to shatter;
Paper wasn't made to tear.
Fragmentation is a side effect of carelessness, not of life–
Not of love.
A rose is not meant to be crushed, pulled apart petal by petal, simply because it is soft.
The doe, graceful and wide-eyed, was not created to die at the hands of a man indistinguishable from a snake in the grass.
The monarch does not flutter with lithe wings to be caught, classified, and pinned to a page,
Nor do the leaves change hue, turn crisp, and fall to be crushed beneath an entitled foot.
I do not paint my eyes so that you can watch me bleed black and gold down my cheeks,
Nor do I wear my heart on my sleeve so that you can rip it apart valve by valve.
I am not your window pane, nor your blank page; your willow tree, nor your frozen stream.
I am the rabbit sleeping deep in her borough; I am the bluebird flitting between trees.
I may be fragile, but that doesn't give you permission to break me.

Since when is good enough,
Good enough?
Minimum, easiest,
Thoughtless and rushed.

We're giving pennies
Wanting dollars in return
We expect the gold medal
Without effort, it's not earned

Giving enough
to get by, and no more
Yet expecting the best
From the rest of the world

Too focused on taking
To ever give
But a one-sided life
Is no way to live

Good enough is not good enough
Half effort won't yield a full life.
If you feel like you deserve all the best
You've got to give what you'd like.

Soiled corpse lie in wait

sautéed by an armada of worms and snakes

Take what is taken

Love whats loved

When bulls stampede at clambering feet

If no bull present for the reason to fleet

Still await with a soulless rhythm

What we want

A name long forgot

Take the man before he pleads and kneels at the baby

Price paid for the difficulty never met

Shall you be sullied by the hypocrite

condensed in common sense

tattered by aggravation

Call me what I am as you stand for who I'm not

Take what i've been become remember what i forgot

Former souls lie and wait

to take a name the lie in wait

Soiled corpses desired for take

Be Somebody

Somebody