1/5/2014
Tomorrow is a funny word Poem

Tomorrow is a funny word.
Not that it makes me laugh.
It just feels more preferred,
to think of the potential unheard.

Tomorrow should be used when we go to sleep.
At the end of the night when it's time to count sheep.
But that's not what people use it for,
the literal expression is such a bore.

When we say tomorrow,
it creates a strong of sense of hope.
When we say tomorrow,
it gives more time to tell our problems, "Nope."

Nobody wants to say tomorrow and feel something negative.
It is such a dreadful thought that we demand an alternative.

But what if tomorrow is going to ****?
What if?
...
and there you go.
That's why tomorrow is a funny word.

We live in a society that is reluctant to hold individuals accountable for their actions.

They did this to him because of his smile.
They did this to him because he was in the bar bathroom a long while.
They did this to him because of his clothing style.

The environment can create stimuli and stressors which trigger predispositions.
Predispositions of behavioral tendencies to make bad decisions.

They did this to her because they saw it on TV.
They did this to her because nothing comes for free...
or at least easy.
They did this to her because of how they were raised by mommie.

However, at the end of the day, you have ****** autonomy.
Physically responsible for your own actions,
you have damaged another human...
being.
You don't want to accept you could do something so heinous to another human's ****
or ******.

Morally responsible to actively educate,
yourself.
How to live in a world with other humans whom differ from you.
People who you may not completely understand.

She said no, but things happened so fast.
Kept go-ing on, not for long he didn't last.

He might have been interested at the start of the night,
but wasn't trying to be perceived as putting up a fight,
resisting what his assailant created, his forever tragic night.

I'm not big on the concept of 'deviant behaviors' or 'social taboos.'
Certain things however, you should know what to do.
We violate others' rights, freedoms, privileges, happiness, mental stability, and personal well being.

And For What?
It doesn't matter if you're gay, like metal music, or get drunk, because
We can't blame the color gray.  
not tomorrow nor today.
Don't sit, just stand, get up and say.
Advocate that **** is wrong every innocent second of each precious day.
more clearly defined, not merely social constructs within a particular society.

Long story short; **** is Wrong. Get and Give Consent. Be Safe as well.

When I was younger
I liked to spin and spin
I would get dizzy and fall
and I would laugh
because things were good
and life was kind

When I was a little older
I liked to follow my brother around
I would get tired and fall
because no matter how hard I tried
I couldn't keep up
but things were good
and life was kind

The day I became a teenager
I began to internalize
and I would get dizzy and fall
because I was different
things were not good
but life was still kind

When I was a little older
I made peace with my struggles
I got light headed and cried
God made me different
but things were good
and life was kind

When I became an adult
I met my first love
We would kiss and I would fall
because I knew he would catch me
things were very good
and life was kind

When  I was a little older
I made too many mistakes
I was so sorry but I didn't fall
because I had ruined his life
and mine
and there's nothing to be done
things got really bad
and life was not kind

Now the days go by
but things are different now
and when I think about it all
I get dizzy and I do fall
because not a day goes by
that I don't think of you
and how sorry I am
for the idiot I was

but life goes on
there's not too much I can do
the little that could
was done
and we've moved on

The day I'm a little older
I'm sure I will see you that day
and I will probably get dizzy and fall
but I hope enough time has passed
where we are able to smile
because things are good
and life is once again kind

Not on your lips,
No, not anytime soon.
Your mind has become
Like the dark side of the moon.
Full of holes and lacunae
and dark shadowy walls.
Sometimes words fail you,
More often, recall.
I show you a picture
Of when you were young
I can see it’s a struggle,
on the tip of your tongue.
I wish you could help me
Match names and faces
Caught here in print
In silvery traces
If only a synapse could snap into place
Give you back the dignity
That time has erased.
Then you could name these comrades
headed off to the war.
Maybe then could you tell me
where past years are.