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Riot Apr 2014
One two three four
Turn around and shut the door
Five six seven eight
You say you love me
But now it's too late…
amanda
my never ending story begins here.
when i was in 7th grade
i would go on webcam with my friends
so i could meet and and talk to new people
and the compliments did not end…
then…
someone said
“show me a little more of your beauty”
i was in seventh grade
nieve i didn’t care
then 1 year later
a facebook message told me
that picture is still there
amanda
the man who sent this message to me
new everything about me
how he got that information
i don’t know
but on christmas break
i didn’t think anything of it
it was too late
for him to do anything
my life was great
but a knock knock knock at 4 am
change the way i felt
my picture was sent to everyone
i felt like i was in hell
this lead to anxiety
all the time i tried to hide me
amanda
didn’t want to go out in summer
because i knew that mistake would find me
amanda
and it did
it found me in different substances and alcohol
my anxiety got worse than it ever was before  
a year past and the man sent me the list of my new school and friends
just when i thought the torcher would end
but it got worse
this time it was a facebook page
the picture of my “beauty” was his profile
i
amanda
cried every night
lost my friends and respect again
walked down the hall being called names
being judged
again
i would never get that photo back
it was out there forever
so i started to cut
and i promised myself never
i had no friends
sat at lunch alone
so i moved schools again
just to be alone
but it was better this time
a month later i started talking to an old friend
he was a guy
we texted back and forth
and it was kinda nice
but then it got better
and he said he liked me
but he had a girlfriend
but he still liked me
so one day he said
“come over, my gf is away”
so like the teenager i was
i
amanda
made a mistake
we
got together
i thought he liked me
but just like every other
that mistake found me
one week later he texted me
amanda
saying
“get out of your school amanda ”
his gf and fifteen others came to find me
amanda
her and to other just stood there and said nobody liked me
amanda
a guy said in the background
“just punch her already”
so she did
she threw me to the ground
and punched me
amanda
over and over again
but the worst part was it was taped
and i was left there
alone
amanda
a joke in this world
nobody deserved this
this hurt of the world
i lied and said it was my fault
that i told him to do it
i didn’t want him to get hurt
and it’s no different if they put me through it
because i thought he liked me
amanda
there was one person in the world
who like me
but he just wanted what i could give him
so i just layed in a ditch all day
feeling like nothing was right
until my dad found me
and brought me home that night
i wanted it to be over
i wanted to stop the pain
so when i got home i drank bleach
and thought the pain would go away
it killed me inside but not out
so the ambulance came
and saved me
but i was still dead without a doubt
because on facebook
they said
she deserved it
i hope AMANDA is dead
and i tried so hard but i couldn’t get those words out of my head
and i didn’t want to press charges so i changed schools instead
i
amanda
just wanted to move on
but i was being tagged with pictures of bleach on facebook
how could i
they wanted me gone
i
amanda
a person
made a mistake
and on my story video
the comments
i could not take
the last words i read were
darwin at it’s best
but i’m just amanda
no more perfect than the rest
Alan Maguire Sep 2017
Red balloon: Amanda Mustang

Amanda Mustang : yes red balloon

Rb: are you left handed ?

Am: I don’t think so red balloon

Rb: why not ?

Am: why not why red balloon ?

Rb: well, how come your not sure ?

Am: well I only use my right hand mostly

Rb: but you do use your left one too

Am: yes, but not as much

Rb: then I declare that you  
Amanda Mustang is both left and right handed

Am: ambidextrous red balloon

Rb: ambiwhich ? Amanda Mustang

Am: ambidextrous means using both your left and right hands

Rb: then you are ambidextrous Amanda Mustang

Am: not really red balloon, both hands must be as good as each other

Rb then I will ask each hand Amanda Mustang

Am: don’t be silly red balloon.
for hands and feet and ears cannot speak, they simply are not alive

Rb: but you are alive Amanda Mustang, you began talking the day I imagined you.The other balloons say that you are not real, but I know you exist. Maybe from your point of view I’m made up and the other Amanda Mustangs would say “stop talking to that balloon Amanda Mustang, for balloons and teddy’s and cats cannot speak and balloons and teddy’s and cats are not real”

AM: I’m sorry red balloon

Rb: why so Amanda Mustang ?

Am: well for doubting your existence and I apologize to you too both left and right hands

L and R H: That’s okay Amanda Mustang, we forgive you
Yesenia Acevedo Sep 2015
Six hours later the sun rose in Peach Springs shinning down on the little busy police station in the middle of town. Eve sat in a tiny well lit room hand cuffed to a bar attached to the wall. She felt dizzy from the tears she had shed unsure how she could still produce them, one after another they fell. The door opened announcing the police officer who uncuffed her and lead her to a room with a table in the center surrounded with chairs. She sat silently gripping to what was left of her sanity as the tears continued to fall. Minutes later two detectives entered, one female, one male, they sat down looking at each other stating their names and titles. The female detective asked Eve her fist question,

"Do we have you permission to record this conversation?"

"Yes, you do."  

She pressed the record button and the interrogation had officially began.

"Tell us what happened prior to you arriving at the hospital."

Eve began to tell her truth fading in and out of the memory as she told the events before and after she decided to get out of bed with Sam. Six hours earlier...


Eve and Sam were restless unable to return to their dreams. She hoped Matt would come back to bed and realize he was being a ****.


He doesn't even know what the situation is between me and Jake.

Eve decided to leave the bed with her son oblivious to the consequences that awaited. She kept her shoulders square, her eyes on the path that lead to the kitchen as she passed Matt in the living room. She peeked in the master bedroom searching for Julie when Matt's  mother spoke in an overpowering voice,


"I'm in here, close the door."

Eve felt her son squeeze his legs around her and quickly closed the door. She walked towards the back door listening to faint voices coming from Matt's room. She joined them sitting across from Julie with her son in her lap she asked,

"What are you up to Jewels?"

Eve wished she would've stayed in bed when Julie pointed to the coke offering  her some. She refused it but knew it wouldn't be that easy to get away with. Like with most things Julie told her to try it and stop if she didn't like it. Eve asked her what it felt like then agreed when Julie told her it felt good. She placed her child on the bed opposite to Jake, she shooed Jake"s hand away when he tried to grab her. Agitated she walked over to Julie who held the foil steady while she inhaled her hit. As she exhaled she washed the taste clean from her lips. When she looked up she realized Matt was sitting on his bed drinking a beer. Eve shook her head at Matt agreeing with his sister who was telling stop or he'd go back to jail.

******* *******, he's doing this on purpose.

she told herself when he downed four more. Eve followed Julie's lead yelling at Jake not to  give Matt any of the ******* when he offered it to him. Eve held her anger while she watched him as he snorted the fine white powder. Julie told her brother,

"Your ******* stupid."

Eve shouted at him,

"Yeah you are."

"Why do you even care.",

he asked in voice that stabbed at Eve. Lost in her thoughts she barely notice when Amanda walked in. Eve heard her whining but couldn't make out what she was saying. She looked up in time to hear Julie invite her somewhere. Automatically she refused using the excuse that her son was awake. Amanda threw a fit telling Julie to leave Eve behind then she turned to Eve glaring at her as she left the room with Jake following behind her.

"Ignore her. Lets go.",

Julie insisted.

"I can't.",

Eve pointed to her son.

"Ask Matt to watch him",

she told her. Eve looked at Matt who was shaking his head with his answer no.

"It's only for a few minutes Matt."

Julie told him. Eve walked towards Matt telling Julie,

"It's okay Julie, Amanda doesn't want me to go, remember."

"**** her."

Julie said laughing. Eve reached for her son taking him from Matt, but Matt pulled him back telling her,

"I'll do it."

"No, it's okay, give me my baby."

Eve insisted pulling on Sam. Eve frowned at Matt when he refused to let go of Sam. They both tugged at him til he started crying, with sounds of his cries she let go of Sam.

"Are you sure Matt? I can take him, he's my baby, just give him to me. "  

Eve studied him, Matt pouted saying,

"I'll do it, I always do it anyway?"

Feeling uneasy Eve handed Sam's bottle to Matt then left the room with Julie. They met Amanda, Jake and Jeff at the curb where the cream colored Cadillac was parked in front of the house.  Immediately Amanda threw a fit at the sight of Eve. Eve shrugged her off as they drove to the store. Jake went in then returned empty handed explaining it was two a.m. and the store clerk refused to sell him alcohol. They drove the four blocks back to the house with Amanda pouting a fit that had them all in distress. Upon arriving to the house Eve smoked a cigarette on the front porch with Julie keeping her company. She finish the cigarette proceeded to the kitchen retrieving a yogurt from the fridge. Eve step out on the back porch listening for Sam. She stood there for several minute while she ate her yogurt thinking,

Sam's probably asleep. If i go in that room and end up waking him Matt will flip. I'll just wait a few more minutes and smoke another cigarette, if Sam cries i'll get him, if he doesn't i'll leave it be.

She finish her cigarette certain everything was perfectly fine. She believed Sam was sleeping in the safety of Matt's protection. Matt had always referred to Sam as his son ever since Eve's belly began to show she was pregnant with Sam, she trusted him. With her mind at ease she returned to the living-room and out the front door.  The Cadillac took off leaving Amanda behind. She watched Amanda walk along side of the house heading towards the back yard. Eve followed Amanda until she turned snapping her words she instructed Eve to leave her alone. Eve turned around entering the house through the front door.  Amanda entered the house through the back entrance minutes after eve had sat down next Julie. Amanda joined them in the living-room visibly upset making it clear she was not happy that Jeff left to take Jake home. Soon after Matt ran through back door yelling ,

"Help! He's not breathing, he's not breathing!"

The girls met him at the frame of the door leading to the kitchen. They shouted at him demanding to know what had happened. He told them Sam must have swallowed a rock. Everything swirled into a blur and Eve took her baby from him grabbing her coat on the way out running, following Julie.

Eve blinked through tears returning her to the room where the detectives sat in front of her. She shook head resting her arms on the table saying,

"That's all i know."

"Tell us again, from the beginning, what happened?"

The detectives took turns insisting she tell them over and over again what she knew. After the fifth time through the events of that night she lost her composer. Eve slammed her hands down on the table as she stood from the chair screaming,

"I already told you what happen. Why are you doing this? How many times do I have to tell you?"

She hung her head low clearing her mind making sense of the situation. She looked up at them, in a confused voice she said,

"You think i killed my baby?'

Her voice hardened raising slightly.

"Is that what you think? Is that why your doing this? I didn't **** my baby, I didn't **** him."

Defeated she fell into her chair. The detectives looked at each other then turned off the recorder.

"We're finished."

They both said softly standing then leaving the room. Some time later a police officer opened the door leading her to another room with a table in the center surrounded with chairs and a two-sided mirror next to it. Her eyes leaked endless amounts of sorrow flowing, falling with every step she took towards the chair she pulled out sitting so that she faced the mirror. The door closed with the officers exit and she let out a wail of enormous heartbreak, sorrow, and just flat out pain.

What happened? Oh god, bring him back. Tell me what happened. Why?

She pleaded silently with her God. She watched herself in the mirror thinking,

I should have never left the bed. I should have made him fall asleep.

Feeling faint her eyes throbbed making her head pound deeper pulsing down her neck. Eve pushed two chairs together curling on to them making her hands her pillow. She closed her eyes wishing that when she opened them she'd be next to Sam in bed. But she open her eyes and saw the carpet of the room, she began to sob. The door opened with the familiar face of the officer who lead her to the exit of the police station informing her she was free to go. The light of the sun blinded her sending her into a daze. Nora and Julie soon joined her and she asked Julie's mother Nora,

"Where's Matt?"

Nora turned to Eve shushing her with a finger to her lips. When they arrived home Nora requested the girl join her in her room. Once there Nora instructed the girls to sit on the bed. They did as asked then Nora faced the floor slowly and clearly she said,

"Matt killed Sam!"

With the sounds of those words Eve's world turned, crumbling. Nora informed the girls what Matt had done to the child. They all cried in pain knowing nothing could ever be the way it was before. Now those loving feeling she felt for Matt in the darkest corners of her mind echo'd, slithering, completely tainted by the unspeakable evil he committed against her son resonated throughout her being.
Cedric McClester Apr 2015
By: Cedric McClester

They can be so cruel
When they want to
Make you look like a fool
And then they haunt you
Amanda showed her breast
Because of someone’s dare
She was just a young girl
Who was unaware

This is for Amanda
Who felt she was alone
Because some people have
Hearts as hard as stone

One careless moment
Captured on the net
Never went away
So no one could forget
She compromised herself
Much to her regret
And so it followed her
And made her upset

This is for Amanda
Who felt she was alone
Because some people have
Hearts as hard as stone

Her name was Amanda
She was someone’s child
Who was cyber bullied
Too bad she’s dead now
Amanda couldn’t take
All the stress and strife
And she got so depressed
That she took her own life

This is for Amanda
Who felt she was alone
Because some people have
Hearts as hard as stone

This is for Amanda
Who felt she was alone
Because some people have
Hearts as hard as stone
Where are they all now
Hope they’re satisfied
She was bullied up until
The very day she died

This is for Amanda
Who felt she was alone
Because some people have
Hearts as hard as stone


(c) Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester.  All rights reserved.
Jey Blu Nov 2018
Amanda confidently made the first incision on the corpse, as she’d done many times before. Starting near the right shoulder, she pulled the scalpel through the layers of tissue down the middle of the abdomen. She bobbed her head as she worked, listening to Where Did the Party Go by Fall Out Boy. The pathologist turned away from the body and pushed her long black hair out of her hands with her wrist. Taking her gloves off, she turned the **** on her speaker. “My old aches become new again, my old friends become exes again…” She hummed the tune while securing her locks in a ponytail. Pausing, she picked up her phone and rewinded the music. She could have sworn she Patrick Stump sing the words, “Woah, where did the body go?” Listening closer this time, she started the song. “Woah, where did the party go?” played through the speaker. She shook her head and took another sip of her coffee.
She gazed at the ceiling, bright lights blinding her suddenly. “Jordan!” She waited for a reply. Nothing. She called again. Flustered, she sighed and looked over at the schedule pinned to the wall. Jordan wasn’t scheduled today, Amanda was the only one. “Then why did the lights- Never mind.” She was obviously just tired. Tugging on another pair of gloves, she picked up a pair of forceps and a scalpel and turned back towards the body. It was gone! She looked behind and underneath the table, thinking it had fallen. It wasn’t there. “****! How am I going to explain this to the family?”
“You can’t.” She jumped at the deep, gravelly voice. “Wh-who are you?” she asked with uncertainty. Amanda was too afraid to look him in the face yet. “That’s not important,” the voice replied. “We need you to come with us.”
“We?” She looked towards the direction of the voice. There were thirteen men in black suits with dark shades standing in formation at the door. “Why? Will you tell me where the body is?”
“Just follow us, ma’am. We’ll explain everything in the car.” She followed them out the door. The man who spoke led her to a black Range Rover with extremely tinted windows. Once they were in the car, the man introduced himself. “I’m Peter C. Schultz. I work with the MIB.”
“MIB? Like in that movie with Will Smith?” She sounded confused.
“Exactly. But we don’t get laser guns.” He smiled, hoping to earn her trust.
She laughed softly and looked out the window. “So was he an alien?”
“Possibly. The craft seems to have removed the body, sensing alien DNA in the area.” Peter looked over his shoulder, quickly pulled out of the parking spot and turned onto the highway. Amanda still wasn’t sure if she was awake. Aliens? MIB? A disappearing body? What if they had taken her instead? All types of thoughts swirled through her head.
They arrived at a large, nondescript building. She hopped out of the range rover and shut her door. The men lead her into the building and down the hall to an interrogation room.
“So, Ms. Browne, tell me. Did you notice any strange noises or lights at the time the body “Um. Yeah, yeah, uh, there was. I was listening to music and the lyrics sounded different. I replayed the track and it sounded normal. There was also a bright flash of light right before I noticed the body was gone. I thought it was my assistant, but they didn’t weren’t on the schedule.”
“We’ve heard of the lyrics changing before. The lights are different, they don’t usually come that close.” Peter sighed.
“Before? You mean to tell me people’s bodies have been stolen by aliens before? What the hell?!? Why doesn’t the government tell us these things?” She started to panic.
“Calm down, Ms. Browne. The MIB has it all under control. Amanda stared him in the eyes. “Really? Because there are BODIES missing! That doesn’t seem under control!” She was yelling at this point.
Peter took a step towards her. She continued to glare at him. All of a sudden, his eyes went black. Amanda was confused. This had to be a dream. A lizard like tongue flicked out of Peter’s mouth. Blood poured out of his mouth and dribbled down his chin. She screamed and tried to run. A hand with sharp long nails and slender blue fingers came up from behind her shoulder and covered her mouth. She was instantly silenced. Another hand pushed her back to her chair, the alien body pressing against her. She forcibly sat down. The hands let go of her. The terrified pathologist tried to scream but didn’t have the ability to even whisper. Peter’s form changed into a tall, blue, thin body with disproportionately long arms and neck. She shook from head to toe, when suddenly she heard a strange voice in her mind. It spoke in alien tongue but she could somehow understand it. It said, “Look into the mirror placed in front of you. Be terrified of what you see and know it is your truth.” With shaky hands, she picked up the piece of reflective glass lying in front of her. Bringing it to her face, she looked at the aliens and then herself. She stared back into cold black eyes. She opened her mouth and could see the lizard tongue curled up between her sharp, pointed teeth. She expected to be scared, but instead felt strangely content. She noticed a new hunger awakening from deep inside her. Amanda stood up and walked over to the aliens. Her own kind. She spoke in the native alien language she now had a name for, Kewalanaei. “Do you have anymore of the body left? I need flesh.” Peter grinned toothily and led her into a room where hundreds of bodies lay. They feasted.
I know this isn't a poem or perfectly edited but its just something I wrote for class and kinda liked. I might start doing more 45 minute writes. Hope you enjoy it :)
JP Goss Apr 2014
“Amanda,” she said, in a bold assertion
“We really are the same
Person.” Limp in the dew and
Wise like a sage, no wound cut
No blood shed, yet,
There was something this
Bandage shut,
Something yawning, gaping
But I don’t know what…
How sad! She’s crying, that Amanda,
Shrugging ‘gainst the colic rain
And almost lost in the copes-y veranda,
Weeping softly on
Those concrete flats, wearing “Red Tom’s
And” both “Dating Matts” while
I saw her fear in that moment, appalling, stalling
With soroitous heart, “and fear of falling!”
Binding them tightly: “That’s US haha!”

How many laughs does a limp spirit draw?
—(a disparaged few or none at all…)
Still, she writes, “I am so glad” (a huff annoyed
From Amanda, distant and sad, that I
Can’t tell why “you” ever “joined.”)
But this is not my place, a passerby,
To pick up trash, inane and lonely,
To cast my judgments and inquire—why?

To heal the unbroken with words unspoken
But scratched on refuse, she may
“[heart] you” but refuse you, too
The spirit of [heart] in Amanda awoken
—(But she refused it, too!)
And then be a token
Some stranger takes home.
Yesenia Acevedo Sep 2015
In those twenty minutes Eve sat silently on the bathroom floor her sanity escaped drop by drop through the windows of her will to live. A labyrinth of oblivion exploding in darkness. Her mind had become a maze of confusion coated with denial. To reach reality and regain the urge to continue life it's self meant to follow the droplets of her memories. They represented her only hope radiating down the path of her past. Like breadcrumbs she followed them. She stopped before the first droplet allowing it to surge through her absorbing the memory she had buried deep...

"Help! He's not breathing, he's not breathing!"

The sound of Matt's voice shook and grounded Eve in the past. She blinked hard at Sam who lied limp in Matt's arms. The toddler was blinking rapidly while gasping for air his eyes rolled back displaying only the whites of his eyes.

"What happened to him Matt?"

Eve demanded to know as she scooped her son into her arms.

"He must of swallowed a rock."

Matt answered looking down at the floor.

"I'll go get mom."

Julie blurted then ran to her mothers room. Seconds later Julie returned with car keys in hand.

"Mom said to take him to the hospital now."

Julie grabbed her sweater then ran out the front door. Eve grabbed her coat and followed Julie. Amanda followed Eve yelling,

"I'm going with you."

Julie started the car put it in reverse, then drove down the back roads towards the hospital. Eve looked down at her son whose eyes were still fluttering clearly struggling to stay focused.  Sam wheezed through what would be his only words,

"Mum... mum,mum,mum,ma".

With the sound of his shaken voice he stopped fighting. His eyes closed and his body was still. Eve panicked.

"No, wake up!  Don't go to sleep, stay with me. SAM, WAKE UP!"

She continued to scream at the toddler while she slapped him repeatedly desperate to see  his eyes open. In the back seat Amanda stirred at the sight of Eves panic. Amanda insisted with a calm but firm loud tone,

"Give him to me, I know CPR."

Eve hesitated still begging her son to open his eyes. She let out hysterical laughter when he did open them again. He looked up at her weary and let out through wheezes followed by gasps of air his final words his mother would every hear.

"Mummum, mummum."

"Give him to me, I know CPR!"

Amanda continued to tell Eve and reluctantly she hand over her son to Amanda when Julie yelled at her,

"GIVE HER THE BABY!"

On the way Julie came to a red stop light with no traffic in sight she still stopped abiding the law even in this hectic situation. While Amanda continued to preform CPR on Sam, Eve turned to her friend yelling,

"ARE YOU ******* KIDDING ME? ******* GO. DRIVE NOW!"

Julie in her own state of panic floored the gas driving the final distance to the Out-reach Hospital. As they pulled into the the Emergency rooms round about Amanda open the door without the car at a complete stop she jumping out with ease still  holding Sam in her arms, she ran through the open sliding door. She screamed at the receptionist,

"He's not breathing."

Eve ran behind Amanda in time to see the Emergency double doors open exposing the emergency room and staff behind them.  Several staff member ran to Sam taking him to a room to began resuscitating the toddler. Eve ran behind them all. As she began to enter the room she was stopped by a nurse who instructed her to wait outside the room.

"But I'm his mom."

"We can not do our job to save him with you here, you are a distraction. Please take a seat over there."

She pointed to the chairs down the hall against the wall.

"Come on girl, let them do their job."

Julie tugged at her shirt. They sat waiting until a counselor showed up relocating them to a private room.


To be continued....
Tom Higgins May 2014
Amanda was a Panda
She was a lovely lass,
Although she had two ******* eyes,
She retained an air of class.

She ambled into the Bamboo Bar
To have lunch with Panda Pete one day,
And he looked into her eyes
And to her he did say.

"Oh Amanda with your ******* eyes
Will you please be forever mine,
And promise that you will never
Let your panda arms entwine,

Any other bloke panda
In this bamboo land,
Please oh please Amanda,
You've got to understand

For me there is no other
You're the only girl for me,
You remind me of my mother,
And so we're meant to be,

Together as a couple we'll be
With our four eyes of black,
Oh darling please look at me
Why have you turned your back?"

She answered very clearly
She said "because Pete I'd rather,
Find another Panda really,
To be my childrens father."

Now Panda Pete was really sad
He felt total and utter rejection,
So he sloped off before he got mad,
To a future of dejection.

He slunk out of the Bamboo Bar,.
Back into the forest outside
And jumped into his panda car
And took off for a long lonesome ride.

Tom Higgins 07/05/2014
K Balachandran Mar 2016
Amanda, a crazy collector of Vanda
had such an intense dislike for Aranda
she detested the ******,
when making out in tandem
her outdoor escapade once scared a Panda



(C) K.Balachandran
balaprimus@gmail.com
Vanda and Aranda are genuses of Orchids
paprika Oct 2012
Only love her when she's dead
Swallowed whole by words unsaid
She sleeps among our gritty lies
A stab of truth to open eyes.

She walked among the living, shamed
Burdoned by the sharpest pain
It slid beneath her skin like glass
Haunting her with days that passed.

She never meant for this goodbye
But solace comes in quick demise
Now she's a thought and nothing more
A bruised and broken opened door.

She tried to tell us what she saw
The chafing life that rubbed her raw
We closed our eyes, our ears, our souls
And bundled up against the cold.

You see a perfect amber girl
Preserved in another world
But she will soon be cast away
Overcome by future days.

To keep the stifling guilt at bay
We give her life in hollow ways
Born again by selfish needs
An angel just to give us peace.

We act like we respect her pain
But we're just scared we'll do the same
She was not too perfect for this world
But just another broken girl.
Jack Jenkins Apr 2016
My sister, my sister! How I love you so!
A beautiful woman, with a vibrant soul!
Worth a thousand words, and ten thousand more!
My sister, my sister! How I love you so!

You've given me hope and inspired me,
Gave me confidence to come out of my shell,
Show the world the ugly side of me,
Gave me comfort in knowing you didn't judge me.

I get sad when you're sad, and I hug you when I can,
I want what's best for you, for you to be happy.
You're my adoptive big sister, so here's a happy birthday!
From you're adoptive young brother, Jack Jenkins!

<3
//On friendship//
Keith J Collard Jul 2012
Amanda, what are you staring at?
arms up, eyes part closed,
as if to say "wait,
"I lost my phone."

You alright Pandah?,
on your knees, eyes half shut,
staring at the wall,
" Im a'right," all mumbled up.

Approaching sirens.
" Pandah my Pandah"
no narcane kit,
she lay dying.

Amanda, what are you staring at?
Prom?
Dad and Mom?
Nothing,
Gone.
amanda Nov 2020
amanda
amand
aman
ama
am
i
allowed to admit
these letters
are losing meaning
everyday?
some days
i don't want to be me

some days i don't want
to be a person
Jessica Brooks Jan 2016
There was a time in my life when I thought you could fix me.
The two of us were lost and scratching for meaning in a post-post-postmodern world,
looking for purpose and clarity,
looking for the black-and-white morality in our grayscale lives.
When fate left us reeling in a shared embrace,
I let my sorry *** believe you were the Big Bad to my Virginia Woolf.
Leave it to me not to learn from past mistakes.

There was a time I saw you as a hero, a martyr of some twisted kind,
willing to give back to me that missing piece that someone else had cut from my flesh long ago.
I saw your love as the highest I could ever earn,
and I was devoted to your work-- whatever that meant.

I never saw the casualties.
I don’t even know that there were casualties, but I look into your face and I can see--
blood has been shed,
and it was on your behalf.

You don’t have the kind of face that launches fully armed battalions.
Leeland says you look like a mall Santa,
but I think you make quite the lady-killer.
And I mean killer.
You may as well call me Lizzie Short.

And when your life or ours started to wane,
when I saw your empty promises for the broken vessels that they were,
I realized I didn’t know where I ended and you began.
I realized there were so many words in your textbook full of saccharine lies
and you were using all of them to keep me weak enough to stay.

Was I falling for it? Hell ******* yes, I was falling for it.
I wanted so desperately to have someone in my life
whose every word I could believe
without fear of betrayal or accidental abuse
that I chose intentional manipulation.
Better to know it’s coming, that was my logic.
Better to cause it myself.
Better if I’m the one who dips the cigarette in your poisoned blood and lights it.

You won’t end my life.
You look like it, you act like it, but you don’t outright **** anyone.
You just give people the means and method to end it themselves.
I’ve heard it said there are three types of people:
the type that lose to you,
the type that win and suffer the trauma for the rest of their lives,
the type that win and then become you.
I’m the third, and though you hate to hear it, I wish I’d been the first.

Some people are so grateful to be alive.
But not me.
Not anymore.
Not ever.
Heavily inspired by a weird almost-relationship I had with someone a year ago and by the dynamic between Amanda Young and John Kramer in the Saw movies. Performed this at a slam once and it was a great experience! Feel free to like and/or comment, encouragement is always appreciated. Thank you for reading! I hope your day is better than this poem. <3
September Jun 2011
Amanda,

Do not become the spying rat,
Do not invade their habitat.
    Do not become a ****.

Do not do the scientist's evil deed.

He does not care for his fake plant,
You are simply a decoration,
He is using you.
Bought for beauty, thrown on the shelf.

Do not overestimate yourself,
fake a strong back,
and bluff about the things,
    you are lost in.

You will not win.

Amanda,
Chop off your synthetic stem,
before you grow into something so unknowingly fake.

Amanda,
Do not make people up,
and drop them like impostor petals.
Do not make excuses up,
or blame your actions on substances,
to salvage your pride,
    and save your lies.

Do not fake life amongst the butterflies.

Accept defeat.
Burn from it,
    Learn from it.
Regrow from your ashes,
    Like an organic phoenix.

Fall with the seasons,
    Nutritional blue.
We're living, we heal.
    We always do.

Amanda,
Save scars as reminders,
And only open the wounds,
When you are too.

Remember the things that we once knew,
put past us as we said we grew,
and lied to ourselves,
as we sprouted plastic leaves.

    Turned into information thieves.

Repeat this course, like a failed grade.
    Re-burn from it.
    Yearn for a different ending.
Like a request that is pending,
Flashing yellow, like the neighbor stoplight,
And it maybe, maybe, might,

      Change,
          Amanda.
Danny Valdez Dec 2011
She could never do anything.
Her parents thought nearly everything
was immoral & blasphemous.
A boy from school had gotten her
a poster for her birthday
of her favorite band Good Charlotte.
It was just harmless pop music
but her parents didnt approve of
all their black clothes, tattoos, spiky hair, and eyeliner
so they were making her tear it down.
It was the only thing
hanging on her walls
that was hers.
Everything else had to do with
Joseph Smith & the Morman Temple.
That's all the two of them ever talked about
but when she actually asked questions
and was critical of the beliefs of the church
they just shut her down
with empty answers & irrelevant metaphors.
"But Mom there isn't anything bad about this band! It's made for kids!"
"That's what worries me Amanda...the media & music companies want to poison your mind. The morals of this country are falling apart, heck they're not even there anymore. Amanda...you and I both know that this band does not follow the teachings of the prophet. You know how we feel, you need to choose the right. Remember?"
With her head down and tears falling, she knew she couldnt win.
"Yes."
"Okay then."
Her Mom said, tearing the poster off the wall.
She held it out to her.
"Come on. Rip it up."
"What?"
"Rip the poster in half."
"No. No way. If you wanna tear it, then you do it. I'm not gonna destroy a gift from my friend. What is the point of this? Am I not allowed to have anything?!"
Her father stormed into the room.
"Young lady....I am NOT going to stand for such disobedience!"
Her mother stood in the doorway, while her father violently ripped the chords for her phone and t.v. out of the wall.
"Three months grounding. To your room, no phone, no tv, and absolutely no theater activities after school. I don't care what it's for. Now sit on that bed, and get out your book of morman. Dinner will be ready soon, you can come down then."
He slammed the door shut and locked it from the outside. They had a special lock installed.
She paced the room, her thoughts going a mile a minute.
If she didnt do something, she would lose her mind, she decided.
Inside a pile of stuffed animals was a phone.
Her secret phone.
One of those prepays, she kept it on with babysitting money.
She didnt know if it would do any good, but she called the cops. She had to try something.
An hour later
they were eating dinner in silence, when the doorbell rang.
Her father shot her a suspicious look, before getting up to answer.
The girl could hear the officers talking to her father at the door.
They came inside and sat in the den
talking
for a good five minutes, maybe more.
Finally he called her into the room.
"Amanda."
"Yes, Dad."
"Did you call the police on me?"
"...yes." She said, looking down.
"Why? I havent hit you. Have I?"
"No. But...you keep me locked up all the time. You wont just let me be a normal kid. You're so into the church, you can't see what it's doing to you. Officers I've spent the past two months locked up in my room. Now they want to ground me three more months. All because I wouldn't tear up a Good Charlotte poster. Just because they're not mormon, doesn't mean that they're bad. Does everything have to be about church? All the time"
The two cops looked at each other, concerned, with wrinkled brows.
They were both young, crew cutted, blond hair, blue eyed, boys in blue.
One spoke up, clearing his throat.
"Amanda...a band like that...doesn't follow or honor the teachings of the one, true, prophet....Joseph Smith."
"Yes, you really must obey your parents. The lord commands it."
"Nooooooooooooo!!!"
The girl shrieked, blood-curdling, up the stairs
to her room.
They were everywhere, there was no escape. Her parents, teachers, neighbors, friends, and even the police.
It was the Mormon Church's town.
She finally embraced the solitude
decided to just ride it out
wait them out
and then get out.
When I finally got a car
I would drive by her house
and she would always be there in the window
waving back at me.
She had two long years of that
before she was finally
granted freedom at eighteen.
My friend in the Tower of Zion
the Morman Rapunzel
Pretty in Pink with her short blond hair.
She had to be free.
Today she lives on a piece of land
with her husband and some dogs.
She made it.
Shari Forman Mar 2013
… “Ready Scarlett; one, two, two and a half, three,” said dad looking as proud as ever.

It was my eighteenth birthday, the one and only year that I finally would graduate from High School. The ecstatic moment when I get my diploma and the rush I would get from wanting to rapidly pursue my career. I knew that I’d surely get a scholarship in life science, all about animals. The one and only thing that blockaded my chances of having a future life was me having to suffer from diabetes and few heart problems. Other than that, I was in for all new surprises.

“Scarlett Perkins, would you now gracefully make your way up for your diploma.”

The principal of the school should’ve spoken louder so people could hear, but when I smiled, he got a warm feeling and smiled right back. I know I’m not supposed to make a speech or even say anything, but meaning I’m officially finished with high school and by law, allowed to live on my own, I thought I’d say something that my family would never forget.

“Thank you Principal Williams.” “I will always strive to improve on what I struggle with the most. I am proud of myself as an honor student and will always think positively. Whether it’s finding a cure for my heart problems, leaving my best friends behind to let them pursue their careers, or finding someone to love and to cherish for the rest of my life; preferably Jewish and good looking…

Audience laughs

“I will work up to my very best and even further if possible. Thank you all for your time.”

Audience claps and cheers me on.

“Well, time to go to sleep ladies and gentleman, as the day is officially now over.” “I’m really proud of you Scarlett. You sure have the guts to get up there and give a fantastic speech, you see, I have barely any guts left; kids beating me up in your grade, but overall, I’m good.”

All I could do at that point was listen and smile at his humorous jokes.

It was a long car ride home with the window ajar and my mom having to stop short at every yellow light. It is just her thing now a day’s. My brother, James, was wearing his usual, yet casual, short-sleeved shirt with coterie shorts.

I had to open the window fully as if the humidity increased
about ten percent in the last few minutes. My graduation gown made me sweat even more and feel much overheated. My mom was wearing her new, loose fitting blouse with jean shorts. I would have to admit, my dad looked rather cool with his dark shades on even though it looked as if it was impossible to see through them.

“I’m very proud of you Scarlett. Hey, who knew that such a bright girl could make a speech like that,” said dad.

“Thanks dad, it wasn’t that hard to make a speech like that. I was more excited then nervous,” I said.

“So Scar, who’s having this graduation party honey?” Said mom.

“Mom, it’s just going to be a party with my close friends and maybe a few kids from school. Jake said he might be able to come too.”

“Ooh, Scarlett and Jake…” said my brother.

“Are you really going to be that immature on my graduation day?”

My brother and I always end up arguing about something. James lay back, looking relaxed while listening to his I-pod.

We arrive home at about once thirty eager to see our grandparents whom we haven’t seen in ages. They were on my dad’s side of the family.

“Hey, what’s cooking mom, dad?” said Dad.

Mom and dad both walk over to greet grandma and grandpa as well as James and I.

“My James, you’ve gotten so tall since I last saw you. Oh, and older too”, said grandma.

“Yeah, I just turned fourteen a couple of months ago,” said James.

“And who have we here?” “Happy eighteenth birthday Scarlett.” said Grandma.

… My friends pick me up at about six at night. They are the kind of friends that you would call very fortunate. Chelsea’s car is a silver Honda that costs close to the amount of $20000. To tell the truth, I don’t know how and where she gets that kind of money from as only a teenager. I know only one thing; she doesn’t have a job yet.

I got my first and only job about a week ago at a pet shop explaining to people how to care for certain animals.

“Chelsea, how long is the party till?”

“Till around ten,” replied Chelsea.

“How many people are going to be there,” I asked.

“Don’t worry so much Scarlett; they’ll be about twenty of the people from school that we know.” Said Tory from the backseat of the car

“Okay, no more questions.” I said. “Party it up baby!”

Chelsea, Tory, Veronica and Katy all smile and laugh at my remark. I smile as well.

We all arrive at the party ten minutes later. She was right on account of about twenty other graduates from school there. After all, Chelsea’s house looked spectacular!

She had a sign with big letters saying, “We’re the 2005 graduates!” Boy I felt so proud of myself and for once, relaxed.

“So I think It’s really cool that you are interested in animals. I love that subject as well. Great speech Scarlett!” said a girl named Rachel from school

“Thanks a lot Rachel,” I replied as I went to get a cup of water.

Something slowly wrapped around me as I was pouring a glass of water.

“Whoa, you scared me there for a second.”

“I wouldn’t say that I’m that much of a creeper Scarlett,” replied Jake.

The DJ (graduate) started to play some popular, current music in which we could all dance to. I head with Jake to the center of Chelsea’s enormous living room to go and dance with everyone else. I knew Jake for a long time now and he definitely out danced everyone on the dance floor with his cool moves.

The music started to get so loud that I couldn’t hear myself talk or even think for that matter.

“Hey Katy and Veronica, I’m going to go outside for a little bit. Can you please tell Chelsea if you see her?” I said.

“What’d you say?” said Veronica in a loud tone.

“Never mind.” I replied.

I took a couple of steps, then straight to the ground while holding my chest. Jake ran over to me like lightening.

“Scarlett, are you okay?” “Scarlett, Scarlett, Scarlett!” cried Jake with fear in his eyes.

It eventually got to the point where I fully blanked out, not being able to hear or see a thing.

...When I woke up, I was a little scared and baffled as to where I was and what happened. I further noticed my mom and dad looking as nervous as ever by the look of their faces, and my boyfriend Jake coming towards me frantically.

“Oh, my God Scarlett, are you alright? You look so pale sweetheart,” said dad softly.

“What happened honey? Do you feel dizzy or motionless? Said mom extremely worried.

“Did I blank out or something? Oh, I feel so dizzy and I have a migraine.” I said helplessly.

I moaned hopelessly and tried falling back to sleep. That didn’t work because I also had another part of emotion on me and that was guilt. I felt terrible that I ruined the most important party of my life, and possibly, the last party I’ll ever go to.

“It’s going to be okay Scarlett. I’ll ask the doctor to give you some Advil for your headache and please try to get some rest. Try not to think about the pain in your chest.” said Jake.

I know he was trying to be nice to try and help me and cheer me up, but visualizing pain in my chest felt painful to me and I tried not to cry.

He smiled at me holding my hand. I smiled back at him hugely.

“I’ll be right back sweetie.”

About five minutes later, the doctor came to check up on me.

“Hello Scarlett; Mr. and Mrs. Perkins, I’m doctor Isenman.”

“Nice to meet you said dad.”

“I’m just going to ask you Scarlett, how much pain do you have from one to ten?” said the doctor.

“Eight, I replied without any enthusiasm; my head still on my pillow with my eyes shut.”

The doctor turned from having a smile to a serious frown. The doctor told me to drink a lot of water to prevent the suffrage of dehydration. Dr. Isenman also told me to take it easy and try to relax for the next couple of days. I vowed to take his advice because he was definitely right.

“Scarlett, you have a very high fever of 103.5. I want you to drink every cup of water to ease the fever.” said the doctor.

“Okay,” I said without lifting my head or opening my eyes.

As the doctor leaves, I see Jake coming back with Motrin in which he probably got from one of the nurses and an ice pack.

“Put this on your head scar to ease the fever.” said Jake.

“Thanks for staying with me Jake, but you don’t have to stay much longer. You should go home and rest.” I said.

“I want to stay with you though.

He paused.

“I don’t know if now would be a good time to tell you that I got a scholarship in football for the whole season; but, I did.” said Jake.

“Wow Jake, that’s amazing; very impressive. You’ll be the star quarterback.” I said.

“I hope so; thanks Scarlett, and one night in the hospital couldn’t hurt, right?” said Jake.

“Nope.”

… “How are you feeling baby?” said mom.

“It’s morning already, I’m feeling much, much, much better now!”

“That’s very, very, very great.” said dad.

Jake walks up to me with a grin on his face.

“So I heard you’re feeling better?” said Jake.

“Yeah, I’m feeling good.”

“So I was thinking, how about just you and I see your favorite singer, Billy Joel, in concert this Saturday.” said Jake.

He pulled out two tickets from his front pocket and my face enlightened greatly.

“Oh, my God! Are you serious? Thank you so much Jake! That sounds like a terrific idea! Thank you so much; this was so nice of you.” I said.

“You have to have some fun after a miserable; well half miserable birthday.” said Jake.

“You’re the nicest guy I ever met Jake.”

He leans in to give me a kiss on the cheek. We both smile and my parents, brother, Jake and I, walk out of the hospital very serene and calm.

The next day, I found myself working overtime in Joe’s Pet Shop. I was already used to all the animals there and treated them as if they were my own pets. One of the animals, a puppy, I had a very strong connection with and knew very well.

A lady walked in the pet shop with a girl that looked about my age, if not, older.

“Excuse me Scarlett, can I take out that puppy just to play with?” said the girl.

She scared me for a second when she called me by my name, but then I realized I had been wearing a nametag.

“Sure,” I said. “No problem.”

“Thanks, do you live around here?” she asked.

“Yeah, I live right near the mall. Michigan’s great.” I said.

“Yeah, I agree.

“Do you go to high school here?” I asked.

“That’s great; I just graduated from high school here about two days ago.”

“Wow, congrats! Oh, sorry; when I talk it can be forever. My name’s Amanda.” She said.

I laughed at the thought of her when I was the one who’d talk till sun down.

“So here’s our little puppy.”

Soft and not afraid, one who would strongly adore all thee who gave it no arm; all affection and this little puppy grew with happiness every time.

Five minutes later, my companion and I settled down on the smooth carpet, chatting intensely.  I nice, lonely girl she was, or assumed to be, and my companion and I went to extraordinary places; unforgettable times I shall cherish for the rest of my life. The park, where children jumping around of all sizes, smiled of the excitement, no stress, of their day. As I listened deeply to my companion, she had something wrong with her as well. Not just any sickness for that matter, diabetes, the poor thing suffered from. I now knew, my friend and I had much in common; she felt as a younger sister to me in a way; a good way.

… The next day, my lover, Jake and I were walking eagerly to the C.L.D.I. Stadium in Michigan.

“Are you excited Scarlett?” said Jake, nearly alarming me there.

“Yeah, definitely.” I responded with all emotions there.

On the way to the concert, I told him aout my friend and how she was like a close companion to me. She was a nice, clean girl with a bright future.

“This concert is amazing Jake!”

“What’d I tell you.” And to top it all off, front row seats.” said Jake trying to sound cool.

All of a sudden, right before my very eyes, the place turns pitch black, the lights flickering on and off; showing different colors all at once. This was something I wasn’t used to at all.

Jake started getting up and singing and dancing to the music. His dancing was cowardly, but his singing was reasonably good. He got me to my feet and started dancing with me when there were fun and slow songs.

Halfway through the concert I got a phone call from my friend. She sounded as if she couldn’t breathe the whole time. The words I could make out were “Can’t breathe… help and Joe’s Pet shop.

“I have to go Jake; I’m very sorry. Thank you for inviting me, but this is an emergency. Bye Jake.” I said quickly.

As I ran out of the stadium to my car, I drove my stick shift car with full speed ahead. Honking my horn to make cars go faster didn’t seem to work well, but I got there in less than ten minutes.

About fifty police cars were lined up near the pet store. The sound of sirens of a police car going off gave me butterflies. And, right before my eyes lay my companion dead on the ground. In total shock I was, having chills at the moment. Amanda’s parents were crying while their dearest daughter had been taken to the hospital. I knew right then and there… She wasn’t coming back. My good friend, my nicest friend, had died before my eyes and she wasn’t coming back.

… At the hospital, I viewed nurses and doctors trying to pump her chest with air and taking her blood pressure. Everything was spinning inside my head and I didn’t know what to say.

… There was no pulse, the doctor told her parents as I was praying for her. My friend, Amanda, had done nothing wrong to deserve this. Luckily, God spared my life, yet, there was nothing to be done to spare my friend’s life.
Tyler Zempel Dec 2018
The Entertainer

Warmth soothes my soul on this beautiful July morning.
A stark contrast to the dream I had the previous night that was the complete opposite of charming.
A violent storm tore apart my home leaving me in shambles, perhaps it’s a warning,
because the dread left behind in the pit of my stomach is concerning.
Tomorrow is my sons 8th birthday party, I fear it will be boring.
The last thing I want is for my sons’ friends to be unimpressed and fill my son’s ears with negative talking.
It may take a few stiff drinks but I’ll do my best to be charming.
A happy, gracious host can influence the guests into returning.
For my son Austin, that enough will be rewarding.
I have a man coming over soon who will provide me with details on what services he can provide to make sure all the kids view the party as being entertaining.
I hope and pray that he’s good at performing.
This is the first birthday I’ve had to plan on my own, so I’m sure I’m in store for some learning.
I’m hesitate whether or not I should pick up my video camera and begin recording.
I may record a complete failure or an event that proves to be rewarding.
Either way the children will be roaring
with either boos or cheers.

Food wise, I plan on keeping it simple.
Pepperoni pizza and pop to keep all the kids civil.
Two piñatas filled to the brim with candy for all the kids to lust over sinful,
while I watch from a dark corner letting out a giggle.
Still I need more fun things for the kids to do so that’s where the entertainer comes in.
To get a better price I might try to sooth him over with some gin.

Knock.
Knock.
Knock.

I answer the door to discover the middle-aged man smiling rather creepily at me.
He supports a trimmed beard along with a beer belly that sticks out rather beastly.
I have a sick feeling in my gut that something is off about him to a certain degree.
Having him makes me feel uncomfortable, I’m not sure if I trust his websites satisfaction guarantee.

He goes to speak, his breath reeking of cigarettes and alcohol.
His clothes are weathered, torn, smell something putrid and in need of a dousing of Lysol.
His eyes are bloodshot; it appears he has had a long night.
His presence here in front of my home fills my heart with fright.

He hands me his business card and tells me his name is Chester Pennyworth, entertainer.
It’s not in my nature to be a complainer,
but I wouldn’t hire this man even if he was my next-door neighbor.
I’m certainly not willing to pay the hefty fee for his retainer.

He hands me a booklet explaining all of the services he provides for children’s birthday parties.
I believe the only talent he actually contains is passing along genital ******.
I close the book as fast as he opens it and tell him I’m not interested in his services.
He snatches the book back from out of my hands laughing rather manically since I just deemed him purposeless.
I thank him for stopping by and for his time trying to be merciful,
but the frown that quickly appears on his face tells me he’s taking it personal.

I politely ask him to leave wanting to slam my front door hard behind him.
Chester then closes his eyes and begins to sing a hymn.
I forcefully ask him again to leave, he’s wasting valuable time I could be spending at the gym.
His eyes shoot open deranged; my soul instantly feels grim.
This man needs to depart from my presence now!
Him working my party, I simply disallow.

I go to push the man out of the door in an attempt to get him to leave.
He grabs my arm and squeezes my wrist hard, not the outcome I had hoped to achieve.
The forces me back into the house and with his free hand closes the front door behind him.
The outcome of this encounter for myself is starting to look grim.
He’s a large man, much stronger than I am.
Now I’m at his mercy, ****.

Now squarely in the middle of the living room, he squeezes my wrist even harder forcing me to my knees.
I look up at him as he admires down at me looking pleased.
He tells me I look good for being a middle-aged mom and am quite the **** tease.
I beg him to let me go and promise to hire him if he does so, in hopes he agrees.

With his free hand, the man drops his pants exposing he average sized ****.
He demands me to milk him dry and to end the small talk.
Hesitate, but with no other options, I slowly take all of him in my mouth.
I bob my head back and forth ******* him off while in my mind I pretend that I’m on vacation down south.
His manhood taste terrible, like he hasn’t showered in weeks.
I hold back gags as he pulls out of my mouth and slaps my cheeks.

He then shoves himself back into my mouth and I continue to ****.
I’m tempted to bite down and cause him misery but with the tight hold he has on my wrist, I’m afraid he would shatter it in retaliation, so I’m stuck.
*** starved, it doesn’t take long for his **** to fill up with cream and begin to throb in my mouth.
Excited, he moans and whispers that he’s going to keep this day as his Sabaoth.
He quickly blows his load down my throat and lets out a smile of pleasure.
It seems my mouth was quite the treasure.
I ask him if we are even and tell him I’ll let bygones be bygones.
He immediately frowns and tells me no, he’s going to put me where I belong.

He tells me to get back up to my feet and leads me into my bedroom.
He lies me on the bed, strips me naked and tells me he’s sure I have a nice womb,
but tells me my womb is not what he’s interested in.
He begins rubbing his hand over my leg commenting on my delicious smooth skin.
He licks his lips and tells me he bets I will make a tasty meal.
Panic cripples my heart as I plead with him to work with me and make a deal.
I have a young son who will be home from his friend’s house soon.
I don’t want him to walk in on us like this, I rather have in walk in on a cartoon.

The man, not caring what I have to say, climbs unto the bed and sits on my chest.
He places his right and above my left eye and tells me my son will soon be addressed.
Without warning, he slams ******* into my eye sock and rips out my left eye.
A loud piercing scream escapes from my mouth, God I want to die.

The sick, depraved lunatic smiles at me and shows me my eyeball.
I’m too busy screaming out in pain to be appalled.
He tells me the eyeball is the most delicious part of the human body and can’t wait to eat mine.
He reassures he won’t harm my son, that he will be fine.
He then sticks ******* into my right eye and rips it out as well.
The world as I know it goes black as I’m left in one terrible place to ******* dwell.
----------------------------------------------------------­---------------------------------------

The front door of the home squeaks open as a young boy enters, the son,
freshly back from his friend’s house where he just got done having a lot of fun.
The smell of cooking food enters his nostrils pleasantly, rumbling his stomach as he is hungry.
He’s a boy whom enjoys his food even though his mother warns him eating too much will cause him to become chubby.

He drops his overnight bag on the floor and yells out, “mom I’m home!”
She doesn’t answer, she always answers!  Something is not sitting right up in Little Austin’s dome.
He walks towards the kitchen then stops immediately in his tracks.
There is a strange, unrecognizable man cooking, wearing ***** slacks.
The man turns around and smiles, “Austin you’re home!
Dinner is almost done, please take a seat next to Jerome.”

Austin sees a puppet sitting in a chair at the kitchen table and takes a seat in the chair next to him unsure of the whereabouts of his beloved mother.
He’s not sure who this man is, a stranger or possibly his long-lost father?
“Where is my mother,” he finally asks.
The man flashes Austin a warm smile that disguises his true ugly identify like a mask.

“Your mother will be here shorty, she had to run and pick up a few last-minute things for your birthday party tomorrow.
She asked me to stay here and keep an eye on dinner you know.
My name is Walter and I will be providing entertainment at your party tomorrow.
Your mother only hired me for an hour although
so, you and your friends will have to make the most of that hour.
Dinner is ready Austin, o don’t look so sour.”

The man sits a plate of meat down in front of Austin then joins him at the table to eat.
The man tells Austin to take a bite and try it, it’s delicious meat.
Austin takes a bite and discovers the meat is rich with flavor and very tasty.
He cleans his plate rather hasty.

“Good stuff isn’t it Austin,” asks the man.
“Yes, what kind of meat was it?”
“Human meat Austin.”
Austin giggles thinking it’s a joke, “No really what kind of meat was it?”

The man drops his voice to a sinister low level and repeats, “Human meat Austin,
Your mother’s meat to be straight forward.
She did make one tasty meal.

Austin, visibly shaken by this revelation feels his heart sink in his chest.
He begins violently shaking and falls to the ground quite traumatized as you guessed.
He curls up into a ball and begins whispering to himself, “it isn’t true, it isn’t true.”
He didn’t want to accept the truth but deep down he knew,
his mother’s meat was just fed to him by a lunatic.
He now needs to act to save himself and act quick.

“You want desert Austin?  This is the best part.”
The man picks Austin up, sits him back at the table and tells him to have some manners and a heart.
The man places a dish in the middle of the table then removes the lid,
exposing two eye ***** ready to be eaten, his mothers.”

Screams echo around the house as Austin loses his composure and makes a break for the front door.
The man grabs Austin and tells him he still has to see his mother one final time in all her glory and gore.
“She’s still alive,” he whispers into his ear.
“It’s the only way to keep her meat fresh.”

“No, no, no, no Austin trembles uncontrollably as the man drags him into his mother’s bedroom.
A heart wrenching, ear drum piercing, earth spin stopping scream shatters the sound barrier as the boy comes face to face with what’s left of his mother.
Two ****** holes remain of what use to be her beautiful blue eyes.
Her tongue has been removed, leaving her unable to speak.
Her legs are missing from the knees down.
Her breathing is faint; death is nigh for her.

Tears fall relentlessly from Austin’s eyes as the man handcuffs him to his mother, forcing him to spend quality time with her mangled body.
-----------------------------------------------------------­--------------------------------------

The front door of the home slowly squeaks open as Dr. James Allen Burke enters the house.
His appearance here will surly cause a rouse.
Walter is sitting in a recliner in the living room, his eyes make contact with Dr. Burke’s.
Walter has been expecting him since he himself is one of the doctors failed works.

“Good evening Doctor, it sure is lovely to see you again.
Please tell me, your walking into the den of a mad man with a solid plan.”

“Walter, what have you done now?
I was supposed to help you control your urges, that was my vow!”

“Is that why you cut into my brain time after time, to help me doctor?
Because if you ask me, experimenting on my brain means you have no honor.
You’ve tried time and time again to get my brain right but each time you failed.
It’s about time I think that the police find out about your experiments and to a cross you should be nailed.
Do you want the public to know about your current experiment with your mother?
If you want my silence, turn around, exit the house and no longer ****
with me!”

“Walter, when I discovered you fifteen years ago, the police were ready to hang you.
You were lucky I was able to convince them to allow me to help tighten your screws.
You were found near death after being poisoned by your best friend Pete,
who was found with a bullet hole in his head from a bullet that was traced back to a gun owned by you that was found next to your body lying on the street.
You threatened to ****** your ex-girlfriend.
You threatened to ****** your son.
I’ve been performing procedure after procedure on you to fix your brain,
but all my attempts over the years, I’m afraid have been in vain.”

“I guess I should have been allowed to die in peace on that street instead of being revived doctor!”

“I’m sorry I failed you Walter, but I can no longer allow you to carry on with your rampage of destruction.
The crimes you have committed under my watch are too much for my soul to bear.”

“So you are here to **** me doctor, is that it?”

Doctor Burke, unfazed by his failed experiments aggressive nature towards him, smiles and nods as a gun shoot rings out.
A bullet, shot from a gun carried by Amanda who’s now standing behind Walter, hits Walter square in the head putting an end to the failed experiments fallout.

“Thank you Amanda for helping me…”

“Thank me later Doctor, there is something you need to see this instant.”

Doctor Burke and Amanda walk into the bedroom to the horrific sight of Austin handcuffed to his mutilated mother shaking and crying uncontrollably on the floor.
Doctor Burke takes in a deep breath greatly disturbed at the sight, he can’t even begin to enjoy the fact that Walter isn’t around to cause chaos and destruction anymore.

“Doc, the Woman is somehow still alive we need to put her down.
What do we do with the child?”

Doctor Burke takes the gun from Amanda and tells her he will do what must be done.
They need to clean up their mess to avoid and cops discovering their dark ***** deeds placing them on the run.
Doctor Burke points the gun at Austin’s head and pulls the trigger placing a bullet right between his eyes.
He had no chance on growing up and living a normal life, I’m not going to lie.
He would have been traumatized for life and unable to function in the real world.
Placing a bullet in between his eyes is a mercy **** and hope now his soul can be at peace.

Doctor Burke shifts the gun over to the mother and pulls the trigger,
also placing a bullet right between the dark holes of what use to be her eyes.
He looks over at Amanda and speaks,
“Let’s clean this mess up and cover our tracks.”
Jacque Vincent May 2013
I had to love her, I had no choice.

It is her name after all
Amanda, the fourth principal part
Of Amo, Amare, Amavi, Amatus
Formed into the perfect passive participle
She will be loved

I had no control over anything when it came to her
That is quite clear
It was fate telling me I had to do this
It was fate nagging me to believe in something
Something that is a stronger force than my will

I fought fate vehemently
But fate, as it always does, won
And I fell in love
Only to find that the woman who will be loved
Could not love
Shari Forman Feb 2013
… “Ready Scarlett; one, two, two and a half, three,” said dad looking as proud as ever.

It was my eighteenth birthday, the one and only year that I finally would graduate from High School. The ecstatic moment when I get my diploma and the rush I would get from wanting to rapidly pursue my career. I knew that I’d surely get a scholarship in life science, all about animals. The one and only thing that blockaded my chances of having a future life was me having to suffer from diabetes and few heart problems. Other than that, I was in for all new surprises.

“Scarlett Perkins, would you now gracefully make your way up for your diploma.”

The principal of the school should’ve spoken louder so people could hear, but when I smiled, he got a warm feeling and smiled right back. I know I’m not supposed to make a speech or even say anything, but meaning I’m officially finished with high school and by law, allowed to live on my own, I thought I’d say something that my family would never forget.

“Thank you Principal Williams.” “I will always strive to improve on what I struggle with the most. I am proud of myself as an honor student and will always think positively. Whether it’s finding a cure for my heart problems, leaving my best friends behind to let them pursue their careers, or finding someone to love and to cherish for the rest of my life; preferably Jewish and good looking…

Audience laughs

“I will work up to my very best and even further if possible. Thank you all for your time.”

Audience claps and cheers me on.

“Well, time to go to sleep ladies and gentleman, as the day is officially now over.” “I’m really proud of you Scarlett. You sure have the guts to get up there and give a fantastic speech, you see, I have barely any guts left; kids beating me up in your grade, but overall, I’m good.”

All I could do at that point was listen and smile at his humorous jokes.

It was a long car ride home with the window ajar and my mom having to stop short at every yellow light. It is just her thing now a day’s. My brother, James, was wearing his usual, yet casual, short-sleeved shirt with coterie shorts.

I had to open the window fully as if the humidity increased
about ten percent in the last few minutes. My graduation gown made me sweat even more and feel much overheated. My mom was wearing her new, loose fitting blouse with jean shorts. I would have to admit, my dad looked rather cool with his dark shades on even though it looked as if it was impossible to see through them.

“I’m very proud of you Scarlett. Hey, who knew that such a bright girl could make a speech like that,” said dad.

“Thanks dad, it wasn’t that hard to make a speech like that. I was more excited then nervous,” I said.

“So Scar, who’s having this graduation party honey?” Said mom.

“Mom, it’s just going to be a party with my close friends and maybe a few kids from school. Jake said he might be able to come too.”

“Ooh, Scarlett and Jake…” said my brother.

“Are you really going to be that immature on my graduation day?”

My brother and I always end up arguing about something. James lay back, looking relaxed while listening to his I-pod.

We arrive home at about once thirty eager to see our grandparents whom we haven’t seen in ages. They were on my dad’s side of the family.

“Hey, what’s cooking mom, dad?” said Dad.

Mom and dad both walk over to greet grandma and grandpa as well as James and I.

“My James, you’ve gotten so tall since I last saw you. Oh, and older too”, said grandma.

“Yeah, I just turned fourteen a couple of months ago,” said James.

“And who have we here?” “Happy eighteenth birthday Scarlett.” said Grandma.

… My friends pick me up at about six at night. They are the kind of friends that you would call very fortunate. Chelsea’s car is a silver Honda that costs close to the amount of $20000. To tell the truth, I don’t know how and where she gets that kind of money from as only a teenager. I know only one thing; she doesn’t have a job yet.

I got my first and only job about a week ago at a pet shop explaining to people how to care for certain animals.

“Chelsea, how long is the party till?”

“Till around ten,” replied Chelsea.

“How many people are going to be there,” I asked.

“Don’t worry so much Scarlett; they’ll be about twenty of the people from school that we know.” Said Tory from the backseat of the car

“Okay, no more questions.” I said. “Party it up baby!”

Chelsea, Tory, Veronica and Katy all smile and laugh at my remark. I smile as well.

We all arrive at the party ten minutes later. She was right on account of about twenty other graduates from school there. After all, Chelsea’s house looked spectacular!

She had a sign with big letters saying, “We’re the 2005 graduates!” Boy I felt so proud of myself and for once, relaxed.

“So I think It’s really cool that you are interested in animals. I love that subject as well. Great speech Scarlett!” said a girl named Rachel from school

“Thanks a lot Rachel,” I replied as I went to get a cup of water.

Something slowly wrapped around me as I was pouring a glass of water.

“Whoa, you scared me there for a second.”

“I wouldn’t say that I’m that much of a creeper Scarlett,” replied Jake.

The DJ (graduate) started to play some popular, current music in which we could all dance to. I head with Jake to the center of Chelsea’s enormous living room to go and dance with everyone else. I knew Jake for a long time now and he definitely out danced everyone on the dance floor with his cool moves.

The music started to get so loud that I couldn’t hear myself talk or even think for that matter.

“Hey Katy and Veronica, I’m going to go outside for a little bit. Can you please tell Chelsea if you see her?” I said.

“What’d you say?” said Veronica in a loud tone.

“Never mind.” I replied.

I took a couple of steps, then straight to the ground while holding my chest. Jake ran over to me like lightening.

“Scarlett, are you okay?” “Scarlett, Scarlett, Scarlett!” cried Jake with fear in his eyes.

It eventually got to the point where I fully blanked out, not being able to hear or see a thing.

...When I woke up, I was a little scared and baffled as to where I was and what happened. I further noticed my mom and dad looking as nervous as ever by the look of their faces, and my boyfriend Jake coming towards me frantically.

“Oh, my God Scarlett, are you alright? You look so pale sweetheart,” said dad softly.

“What happened honey? Do you feel dizzy or motionless? Said mom extremely worried.

“Did I blank out or something? Oh, I feel so dizzy and I have a migraine.” I said helplessly.

I moaned hopelessly and tried falling back to sleep. That didn’t work because I also had another part of emotion on me and that was guilt. I felt terrible that I ruined the most important party of my life, and possibly, the last party I’ll ever go to.

“It’s going to be okay Scarlett. I’ll ask the doctor to give you some Advil for your headache and please try to get some rest. Try not to think about the pain in your chest.” said Jake.

I know he was trying to be nice to try and help me and cheer me up, but visualizing pain in my chest felt painful to me and I tried not to cry.

He smiled at me holding my hand. I smiled back at him hugely.

“I’ll be right back sweetie.”

About five minutes later, the doctor came to check up on me.

“Hello Scarlett; Mr. and Mrs. Perkins, I’m doctor Isenman.”

“Nice to meet you said dad.”

“I’m just going to ask you Scarlett, how much pain do you have from one to ten?” said the doctor.

“Eight, I replied without any enthusiasm; my head still on my pillow with my eyes shut.”

The doctor turned from having a smile to a serious frown. The doctor told me to drink a lot of water to prevent the suffrage of dehydration. Dr. Isenman also told me to take it easy and try to relax for the next couple of days. I vowed to take his advice because he was definitely right.

“Scarlett, you have a very high fever of 103.5. I want you to drink every cup of water to ease the fever.” said the doctor.

“Okay,” I said without lifting my head or opening my eyes.

As the doctor leaves, I see Jake coming back with Motrin in which he probably got from one of the nurses and an ice pack.

“Put this on your head scar to ease the fever.” said Jake.

“Thanks for staying with me Jake, but you don’t have to stay much longer. You should go home and rest.” I said.

“I want to stay with you though.

He paused.

“I don’t know if now would be a good time to tell you that I got a scholarship in football for the whole season; but, I did.” said Jake.

“Wow Jake, that’s amazing; very impressive. You’ll be the star quarterback.” I said.

“I hope so; thanks Scarlett, and one night in the hospital couldn’t hurt, right?” said Jake.

“Nope.”

… “How are you feeling baby?” said mom.

“It’s morning already, I’m feeling much, much, much better now!”

“That’s very, very, very great.” said dad.

Jake walks up to me with a grin on his face.

“So I heard you’re feeling better?” said Jake.

“Yeah, I’m feeling good.”

“So I was thinking, how about just you and I see your favorite singer, Billy Joel, in concert this Saturday.” said Jake.

He pulled out two tickets from his front pocket and my face enlightened greatly.

“Oh, my God! Are you serious? Thank you so much Jake! That sounds like a terrific idea! Thank you so much; this was so nice of you.” I said.

“You have to have some fun after a miserable; well half miserable birthday.” said Jake.

“You’re the nicest guy I ever met Jake.”

He leans in to give me a kiss on the cheek. We both smile and my parents, brother, Jake and I, walk out of the hospital very serene and calm.

The next day, I found myself working overtime in Joe’s Pet Shop. I was already used to all the animals there and treated them as if they were my own pets. One of the animals, a puppy, I had a very strong connection with and knew very well.

A lady walked in the pet shop with a girl that looked about my age, if not, older.

“Excuse me Scarlett, can I take out that puppy just to play with?” said the girl.

She scared me for a second when she called me by my name, but then I realized I had been wearing a nametag.

“Sure,” I said. “No problem.”

“Thanks, do you live around here?” she asked.

“Yeah, I live right near the mall. Michigan’s great.” I said.

“Yeah, I agree.

“Do you go to high school here?” I asked.

“That’s great; I just graduated from high school here about two days ago.”

“Wow, congrats! Oh, sorry; when I talk it can be forever. My name’s Amanda.” She said.

I laughed at the thought of her when I was the one who’d talk till sun down.

“So here’s our little puppy.”

Soft and not afraid, one who would strongly adore all thee who gave it no arm; all affection and this little puppy grew with happiness every time.

Five minutes later, my companion and I settled down on the smooth carpet, chatting intensely.  I nice, lonely girl she was, or assumed to be, and my companion and I went to extraordinary places; unforgettable times I shall cherish for the rest of my life. The park, where children jumping around of all sizes, smiled of the excitement, no stress, of their day. As I listened deeply to my companion, she had something wrong with her as well. Not just any sickness for that matter, diabetes, the poor thing suffered from. I now knew, my friend and I had much in common; she felt as a younger sister to me in a way; a good way.

… The next day, my lover, Jake and I were walking eagerly to the C.L.D.I. Stadium in Michigan.

“Are you excited Scarlett?” said Jake, nearly alarming me there.

“Yeah, definitely.” I responded with all emotions there.

On the way to the concert, I told him aout my friend and how she was like a close companion to me. She was a nice, clean girl with a bright future.

“This concert is amazing Jake!”

“What’d I tell you.” And to top it all off, front row seats.” said Jake trying to sound cool.

All of a sudden, right before my very eyes, the place turns pitch black, the lights flickering on and off; showing different colors all at once. This was something I wasn’t used to at all.

Jake started getting up and singing and dancing to the music. His dancing was cowardly, but his singing was reasonably good. He got me to my feet and started dancing with me when there were fun and slow songs.

Halfway through the concert I got a phone call from my friend. She sounded as if she couldn’t breathe the whole time. The words I could make out were “Can’t breathe… help and Joe’s Pet shop.

“I have to go Jake; I’m very sorry. Thank you for inviting me, but this is an emergency. Bye Jake.” I said quickly.

As I ran out of the stadium to my car, I drove my stick shift car with full speed ahead. Honking my horn to make cars go faster didn’t seem to work well, but I got there in less than ten minutes.

About fifty police cars were lined up near the pet store. The sound of sirens of a police car going off gave me butterflies. And, right before my eyes lay my companion dead on the ground. In total shock I was, having chills at the moment. Amanda’s parents were crying while their dearest daughter had been taken to the hospital. I knew right then and there… She wasn’t coming back. My good friend, my nicest friend, had died before my eyes and she wasn’t coming back.

… At the hospital, I viewed nurses and doctors trying to pump her chest with air and taking her blood pressure. Everything was spinning inside my head and I didn’t know what to say.

… There was no pulse, the doctor told her parents as I was praying for her. My friend, Amanda, had done nothing wrong to deserve this. Luckily, God spared my life, yet, there was nothing to be done to spare my friend’s life.
Timothy Brown Jul 2013
I woke up in a wall-ball court
underneath the Arizona sun.
I was homeless and broke,
hundreds of miles away from where I begun.
No food to eat.  No water to drink
which is a death sentence in that kind of heat.
Just ***** clothes, an empty wallet
and my heartbeat.

It was a quest of love that brought me here.
A short, hispanic woman with red hair.
She was the person I meant when I said "dear"
Honestly, I would have done anything for her on a dare.
Even though being with her made me want to disappear,
when I was without her I was living in despair.

I got off the sweaty concrete
and marched back to the house of cards
we called a home.
I found the apartment
absent of her presence
so to the streets I roamed.
Nothing in my body
but heat cramps and passion
I searched over and under
the whole **** desert I must have combed.

I found her in the same spot we separated from
smoking a cigarette, I think it was a #27.
Laughing and reading but emotionally numb
to my exhaustion. I just turned and walked away ashamed of the man I had become.
Written for a friend
© July 4th, 2013 by Timothy Brown. All rights reserved
Amanda Kay Hill Jan 2017
Playing basketball feeling
the basketball touch
my hand is a cool feeling
Basketball
Basketball
Basketball
Playing basketball is
so peaceful I love to
play basketball and
feeling the basketball
touch my hand is a
cool feeling basketball
is my favorite sport
to play and watch
Basketball
© Amanda Kay Hill
11/5/16
Could be I’m on a mission:
Convince the entire world
I am the World's Greatest Living
English Language poet;
Of course, genius such as mine
Goes generally unrecognized until
The posthumous crowd weighs in.
And yet, wouldn’t it be nice?

• BEACH BOYS LYRICS-Wouldn't It Be Nice-A-Z Lyrics www.azlyrics.com /lyrics/beachboys/ wouldntitbenice. Wouldn't It Be Nice Lyrics-Beach Boys www.lyricsfreak.com›Beach Boys

Yes, wouldn’t it be nice?
(The Nobel Prize,
Tribute at the Kennedy Center,
A MacArthur Grant,
The Presidential Medal of Honor,
Reverent BJs from hipster groupies . . .
The Poet Laureate in his vicarage,
Enjoying my sweet twilight celebrity.)

(Cue “Guys & Dolls” soundtrack: “What's in the daily news?
I'll tell you what's in the daily news.”)
23: Beheaded at Nigerian Election Rally!
Amanda Knox Gets Away with ****** Again in Italy!
Kung Pow: Silicon Valley Penisocracy Crushes Ellen Pao
German Crash Dummy Co-pilot Flies Jet into the Alps!
Hilary’s Emails Are *****!
Sierra Leone Ebola Lockdown!
Iran: Kooks with Nukes!
Sri Lankan President’s Brother Dies from Ax Wounds!
Saudi Diplomats Evacuate Yemen!
Stampede at Hindu Bathing Ritual, Bangladesh Kills at Least 10!
Simply put:  THE WORLD IS IN A STATE OF ****.

Perhaps it’s time we turn again.
Seek solace in poetry—
“Yeah, chemistry,” insists my Sky Masterson,
My “Guys & Dolls” alter ago.
Surprised? You shouldn’t be.
All poets are gamblers & moonshiners.
We polish our chemical craft,
Sweet-talking the distillation apparatus,
Getting us, getting at linguistic essence.
Cunning linguists are we.
(Colonel Angus, are you back?)
Oyez! Oyez! The gavel raps:
“The Curious Case of Sam Hayakawa.”
We open this hearing to determine
Whether or not S.I. Hayakawa—guilty of
Numerous crimes against humanity & other
Professional Neo-Fascist “entrechats.”--
Whether or not he merits a kinder, gentler
Wikipedia BIO.
(Wikipedia ( i/ˌwɪkɨˈpiːdiə/ or  i/ˌwɪkiˈpiːdiə/ WIK-i-***-dee-ə) Wikipedia)
We open this forum, focusing on his
Courageous stand against the
SDS & Black Panthers, part of
An unlikely coalition: The Worker-Student Alliance
& It’s rival, Joe Hill Caucuses.
Da Name of the Place:
(“I like it like that!” Hot Chelle Rae-“I Like It Like That” lyrics| Metro Lyrics www.metrolyrics.com Lyrics to 'I Like It Like That' by Hot Chelle Rae. “Let's get it on, yeah, y'all can come along/Everybody drinks on me, buy out the bar /Just to feel like I'm.”)
The name of the place: San Francisco State,
1968-69, the longest student strike in U.S. history,
Led successfully to the creation of
Black & Other Ethnic studies programs
On campuses across the country,
And, one could argue,
Gave the green light to
Osama Hussein Obama,
Our first Uncle Tom President.
But I digress.

ACTING SFSU President, Dr. Hayakawa—
Perpetual audition, the pressure on,
Feisty, independent-minded & combative,
Screaming at that skeevy student mob:
(Skeevy as in “He bought the thing from
Some skeevy dude in an alley.")
Declaring “A State of Emergency,”
Calling in the SFPD, whose
Inexplicable slogan says”
“Oro en Paz,
Fierro en Guerra.”
Archaic Spanish for
Gold in peace,
Iron in war, by the by,
For you holdouts,
Those of you who still
Think the “English First Movement”
Breathes life still.
I’ve got more news for you:
That crusade died long ago,
Locked up, dark & shuttered,
Bank Repo thugs, their thick
Neck muscles flexing from side to side,
Sashaying across the parking lot,
Like John Wayne on steroids,
Right up to the front door.)
The SFPD: San Francisco city fuzz,
(As they were known at the time) &
The California National Guard, as well,
Obstreperously, generously catered by
Governor Ronald Wilson Reagan,
(Early stage, Alzheimer’s at the time.
But still very much “The Gypper,”
Still chipper in Sacramento.)
Ronnie--keenly interested in
The Eureka State’s congressional clout,
Lassoes a seat in the U.S. House of Lords:
AKA: The U.S. Senate, SPQR.
It’s still hard . . .

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Still hard to believe that California was once
Rock solid in the clutches of the GOP,
Gripped tightly in the Party’s
Desperate talons. But the grip slipped,
Slipped in the slip-sliding 1970s.
It got harder and harder . . .

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Harder and harder to remind
Leroy & the rest of his ebony posse,
That it was Abraham Lincoln—
“The Great Emancipator” himself—who was,
Our first Republican President.
The Emancipation Proclamation:
That toothless rhetorical flourish,
Based solely on Abe’s
Constitutional authority as
Commander-in-Chief,
Not on a law passed by Congress.
It was just Abe blowing smoke
Up their ***** again,
Just an egalitarian blast from
His Old Kentucky past,
A youth spent splitting rails,
Busting his *** just like
Any plantation ******,
A stark plebeian commonality,
Too deeply etched to be ignored.
Poor Abraham Lincoln:
Probably a **** Creek crypto-Jew,
Neutered by the opposition:
His very own Republican majority Congress,
Another example of the GOP
Shooting off its own foot, right up there
With Mitt Romney’s "47 percent of the people,”
The rhetorical gaffe which cost him his
Second & final shot at the White House.
But I digress.

Senator Sam S.I. Samuel Hayakawa:
That inscrutable Asian fixer, is now U.S. Senator,
Republican, California, 1976-83
Pulpit-bullying his Senate colleagues,
Fiercely opposed to transfer of the
Panama Canal & Panama Canal Zone to
Panama: a diplomatic no-brainer; Duh?
Their freaking name is on both of them.
Senator Sam, obstinate & blustering:
"We should keep the Panama Canal.
After all, we stole it fair and square.”
And Hayakawa, later the driving impetus
Behind the Far Right “English Only” movement.
His co-founding an "Official English"
Advocacy group, U.S. English;
Their party line summarizes their belief:
“The passage of English as the official language will help to expand opportunities for immigrants to learn and speak English, the single greatest empowering tool that immigrants must have to succeed."
That’s how they sold it, anyway.
In sooth: just old-fashioned nativist
Anti-immigration hysteria.

Hayakawa: always the high achiever.
Hayakawa: The Great Assimilator,
Preaching his xenophobic Gospel:
“Immigration Must Be Reduced!”
Aryan rhetoric, of course,
A bi-product of radical authoritarian nationalism,
A movement with deep American roots.
Senator Sam: a Japanese-Canadian-American,
Always tried too hard to fit in.
Sam, comfortable in Chicago during WWII,
Not personally subject to confinement,
Advocated that Japanese-Americans
Submit to FDR’s 1942, Executive Order 9066.
“Time in camp, will eventually work to Japanese advantage."
Later, during the Congressional debate over
The Civil Liberties Act of 1988 . . .
(Passed the House on September 17, 1987 (243–141)
Passed the Senate on April 20, 1988 (69–27, in lieu of S. 1009)
Reported by the joint conference committee on July 26, 1988,
Agreed to by the Senate on July 27, 1988 (voice vote) and
By the House on August 4, 1988 (257–156,
Signed into law by President Ronald Reagan 8/10/88.
He opposed $reparations for WWII internment:
“Japanese-Americans should not
Be paid for fulfilling their obligations."
Some guys, I guess, would say, or
Do anything for Bohemia Club membership.
Plagued by night terrors, nonetheless,
His Manzanar nightmares, his vivid
Imaginary experience at other Japanese
Internment Sites: Tule Lake & Camp Rohwer.
Stalag (German pronunciation: [ˈʃtalak])
Stalags, infamous still,
“Stalags ‘R Us,”
Still palpable memories for
Issei ("first generation")
& Nisei ("second generation").
See: 323 U.S. 214. Korematsu v. United States
(No. 22: Argued: October 11, 12, 1944.
Decided: December 18, 1944.140 F.2d 289.
The opinion, written by Hugo Black,
Chief Justice Harlan Stone, Presiding.)

Hayakawa: a strange duck, of course,
But we mustn’t ignore his strong credentials,
And I’d like to disabuse anyone here
Of the notion that it was anything
Other than his academic record
That got his case to this Forum.
Oyez! Oyez! The gavel raps:
“The Curious Case of Sam Hayakawa.”
So begins this fractured Pardoner’s Tale,
This petition for forgiveness,
The Capo di Tutti Capi,
Presiding: the original Italian mafioso,
His Eminence--the Vicar of Jesus Christ,
The Supreme Pontiff
Pope Paparazzi of Rome!
Roma: the only venue large enough to
Dispense dispensation of this magnitude.

Hayakawa: everyone says his C.V. is “impeccable.”
But did anyone ever freaking Google it?
Just where did Professor Sam go to school?
Undergrad? The University of Manitoba,
Truly, by any Third World Standard
A great bastion of intellectual rigor;
Grad school? McGill and U Wisconsin-Madison.
He was a Canadian by birth,
His academic discipline was Semantics.
(As in “That’s just semantics,”
That all-purpose rejoinder in any argument.)
Professor Hayakawa, The Semanticist,
He taught us: “All thought is sub-vocal speech.”

•  The Use and Misuse of Language: S. I. Hayakawa: Amazon ... www.amazon.com/The-Use-Misuse-Language.../B000... Amazon.com, Inc. The Use and Misuse of Language [S. I. Hayakawa] on Amazon.com. FREE shipping on qualifying offers.
  
Hmmm? We think in words.
The medium of thought is language.
If you grok this for the first time,
Let’s stop to celebrate our enlightenment,
With a cultural nod of respect,
We salute our Islamic brethren.
Radical Islam: the new bogeyman,
Responsible for keeping lights on in Alexandria,
Paying the defense & intelligence bills,
Sustaining that sinister
Military-Industrial complex
Ike warned us about.
Hang in there, Mustafa, old buddy.
Like the Cold War, this insanity
Will eventually blow over.
Orwell’s Oceania will reshuffle
Its deck of global grab-***, and a
New enemy will suddenly appear.
Big Brother, as always,
In the full-control mode,
Simply put: on top of the situation.
So Hurrah!
Allāhu Akbar. “God is Great!
The Takbīr (the term for the
Arabic phrase: usually translated as
"God is [the] greatest.")

“All thought is sub-vocal speech.”
What a simple, yet profound insight!
Just a short hop, skip & jump to the
Realization that, perhaps, the clarity
& Power of our minds can be groomed,
Improved upon by mastery of—
In Sam’s case, anyway--the English Language.
Was this, perhaps, the germ of U.S. English,
The political lobbying organization
He co-founded, dedicated to making
English, the official language of the United States.
Hayakawa: a wooly conservative of his own design;
No wonder Governor Reagan loved him.

Dr. S.I. Hayakawa, a colorful and polarizing
Figure in California politics during the 1960s and 70s.
Can we forgive his daily afternoon naps.
Asleep on the floor of the U.S. Senate,
Leaving California so pathetically,
So ostensibly under-represented.
Senator Sam’s comatose presence at
Washington-on Potomac; the
District of Columbia.
A long time ago,
In a distant galaxy . . .
Far, far away.

TEAR GAS.
Alas, long before he got to Washington,
Long before ever setting foot off campus,
He called for tear gas to
Disperse those pesky college kids.
I repeat myself for emphasis:
He authorized the use of tear gas at SF State.
Tear gas: a lachrymatory agent?
Actually, a potentially lethal
Chemical agent . . .
(Yeah, Chemistry!
To wit: Sgt. Sara Brown,
Referencing “Guys & Dolls” again.)
Outlawed for use during wartime,
Banned in international warfare
Under both the 1925 Geneva Protocol; & the
Chemical Weapons Convention;
“Tear gas:  a weapon of war against
The people. We believe that
Tear gas remains a chemical weapon
Whether used on a battlefield, or city streets.”

Thus, history will be your judge,
You unleashed tear gas on college kids,
So I wouldn’t expect a rep makeover
Any time soon, Ichiye-san, my ichiban friend.
Mark Edwards Jr Dec 2017
A daughter is born, a gift from the heavens, begets new mother in 87'
And though she loved, though she reared, despite the fights, in spite of tears, knowing not, then out of time, a darkness spawned and intertwined.

And over time, the darkness grew, a mother's daughter born anew, and though she tried to intervene, to stop the spread, to cure disease, her fate would deem it wasn't so, yet the hardest part was letting go. Her child lost, though still right there, but reaching out was like grabbing air.

Now lost to us, this shattered mind, a sprouting bud she left behind.
A gift she gave though darkness wrought, such light and joy this bud has brought. And with this light here cometh hope, this bud to nurture, and ways to cope. Our little bud, with flames inside, on streaks of lightning our MaVi rides.

And while her daughter she'll not forget, a mother holds so much regret, for missing signs, for losing reigns, fret not Mãe, you're not to blame. And though I know the pain's still there, an empty void, it isn't fair, and while the answers I have not, my love to give is all I've got. For now, as family, we can only pray, and hope our Amanda finds her way.

12/23/2017
For my mother, about my mentally ill sister, Amanda.

Mãe is Portuguese for Mother.

MaVi is short for Maria Victoria. It's my nickname for my niece, Amanda's daughter.
L E Dow Sep 2010
I don’t love you dear, because you make me laugh, or smile, and never judge.

I don’t love you friend, because you’re almost always on my side.

I don’t love you because you make kick-*** coffee drinks, or because you don’t try to understand my pain.

No friend, I don’t love you because you’ve seen me at my best and worst or because you’ve seen me high and sober.

I love you because you’ve helped me.
Because you never ask why.
Because you found a way out of the labyrinth.
Because you pushed past the pasts.
Because you hate my pain.
Because you give everything, always, even if it means you hurt.


I love you dear friend, because you’ve struggled, lost, failed, and you’re here, pushing on.

Moving Forward.

And I’ll be there; I’ll be your mother, your sister, your shoulder, your spine.
I’ll be your guide, build you up so you can keep up, keep moving.
Because, friend, I’d only be returning the favor.
Copyright 2010 by Lauren E. Dow
Olivia Kent Apr 2014
She who must be loved.
The meaning of her name.
The lady Amanda.
A loyal friend to many.
An honest friend to me.
The sweet gypsy lady prepares her sweet pegs.
Putting their clothes on and dressing their legs.
Some with hats and pretty dresses.
Unless they're bald  they have woolen tresses.
Had the pleasure of meeting her mum at work.
Where Amanda, my sweet friend introduced  me as Olivia the poet.
Requested that a poem for her I did prepare.
Of course I did, because I care!
(C) Livvi
Mandy my colleague makes peg dolls, they are cute.
She asked me to pen a poem for her, hence this!
"Amanda, her name means lady in need of love!"  I looked it up you know.
If life was a bed of roses, then
My neighbour would fit the bill,
He’d built him a twelve room mansion
Next to me, on top of the hill,
It made my cottage look down at heel
Til I grew a hawthorn hedge,
So nobody could look down on me
Though he did, from up on a ledge.

His name was Jeremy Harmon, and
His wife was Amanda Cale,
I’d played with him in the schoolyard, though
He’d won him a place at Yale,
He’d spent his life in America
Though he’d come back home to wed,
And stole the only woman I loved
From our own pre-bridal bed.

She’d fallen hard for his Ivy League
And his Yves St. Laurent suits,
His rented Aston Martin, and
His R.M. Williams boots.
He’d made a pile and he flaunted it
Before heading back to the States,
Taking Amanda Cale with him,
I got her note too late.

‘I’m sorry John, and I know it’s wrong
But he swept me off my feet,
We’re going to live in Chicago, where
He said that life’s a treat.
We’ll live in a condominium
And he promised me a maid,
Oh don’t be sad, for I’m rather glad,
Just think of the love we made.’

And that was the last I heard of them
For almost twenty years,
The name of Jeremy Harmon passed
My lips, as a sort of curse,
I just got on with my life, but brought
No woman to my bed,
My head was full of Amanda Cale
And her betrayal, instead.

They turned up totally unexpected,
Rang my front doorbell,
‘We’re going to be your neighbour, Hey!
It’s good to see you, pal.’
He seemed to be totally unaware
Of the grief he’d caused, back when,
I held my tongue and I kept my peace,
‘Okay, I’ll see you then.’

A year went by and the house went up
And I grew my hawthorn hedge,
Amanda worked in the garden planting
Seeds and lawn and sedge,
I did my best to avoid her, though
She tried to keep things light,
But chuckled things like, ‘Remember when…’
And I’d say, ‘That’s not right!’

‘You made your bed when you left with him,
There are no memories,
I saw you last in his Aston Martin
Waving through the trees.’
‘That was a mistake, I know,’ she said,
‘But things could turn out right,
He goes away on his business trips
And I’m all alone at night.’

I’m sure I said that it wasn’t on,
I’m sure I told her to go,
But she was given to plots and schemes
About things I didn’t know.
She asked me once for a bag of lime
To use on her roses bed,
And like a fool, I gave her the tool
To let her back in my bed.

Jeremy went on a business trip
And didn’t come home at all,
She said he’d gone to America,
Their marriage had gone to the wall.
She came to cry on my shoulder then
Each day, for almost a year,
And in the end, I had given in,
She seemed in a deep despair.

Her garden then was magnificent
For her roses were in bloom,
‘I’ve never seen such a great display,’
I said, one afternoon.
‘You can thank my husband, Jeremy,
He’s been working, all this time,
You’re tied to me for eternity
For you supplied the lime!’

David Lewis Paget
Light flanks the snowbanks
my memory thanks the simple soundscapes
of textures closing in
as walls and ceilings
and snow and sleet

We can blame the weather
but we'll be here forever
cursing ourselves
mid-stride

Stopping motion
mid-explosion

a simple thank you from the
particles we've denied

All things moving outward

The molten core of earth
Our mother

Chaos empty space
Our father


     Standing, surrendering.
        The weather tethers at my veins.
     Pushing.   Pulling.
             My emotions run high with the hopes of a new sunrise.

     Guide me,
          show me,
                 lead me to the holy water you sip like its never ending.
     Show me the truth behind every iris that passes my curious glance.
          Breathe in this cold sterile air while we dream of something tangible...

     Strange winds come on strong in the heart of the mislead, the outskirts.
                We thrive on the untouched surfaces of the mind..
           We breathe in the discomfort...



This is the nothing substance
I'm looking for

Seeking ever leaking truth
of faucet water too heavy

Minerals come to life
and return to the ground
in the instant of
midair waterfall

Weightless feeling fateless
determining the future
on solid ground grasses
fishing baitless

naked sameness

emotion

motion

ion

on


     Seeking direction in the wake of misdirected affection.
                                                     Faulting to the backbone of habits.

     Falling faster, I pause in the balance catching my breathe.
                                         I inhale everything surrounding my mind.
                         Exhaling all my simple poisons.
     A detox of wandering souls and singular holes.
     Eating.    Feeding.    Breeding.
             Filling all this space for all those after me.

     Fill me.
        Fulfill me.
     Accept the darkest crevasses of this mind.
                                                  I still turn a silent shy cheek...



Sea oh double
em oh en

Common ground
from the firmament I send

Confusion permanent
in an ocean

Oh see an end

Painless drifting aimless
seeking searching
for the seam
into which this world
is born

The lifeseeking thread that never ends

The bloodborne
pathogen

Of caring void
and emptiness

Caress you like a stone

Forever there

In the loveliness
of human hair

Saying, I was there

When emotion became
the firm ground
never sinking

Thinking of the way out
but never escaping

Mountains around
an ever growing feeling


     Drifting aimlessly into the empty serenity you present so pleasantly.
              Once again I slide further from comfort and balance...
                     Feeding off any sense of insecurity.
                            Craving that whole duality of my circumstance...

           I keep treading the muddy waters I choose.
     My body gets trapped in the
                                     sticky egos and messing misunderstandings,
                                                                                         in which everyone laughs away.

     I'll schlep the dirt from my soul and shine light once more.
            Exhausted and tried.

                                      Ill shine...



Your light
is not lost to
my dilated eyes


     It's lost in my own lost hope of withering dreams and lost star seeds.
            It falls away in every cold shake I make within whiskey's withdrawal.
                 It fades away in the simple staggers I make and unfulfilled chances I take.

     But, not all is lost.

     I still keep this little light of mine.
     I still let this light shine.

     I'm just a little more aware of the spaces it awakens and the souls it helps take in.
  
          It's ever shifting in this cosmic wake, it hides, it shies, it cries.
                    Like me, it knows when to pipe the **** down and listen to the world.
        Listen to everything it allows.

     It hears souls like you.
                                 It feeds me.



Feedback,
I've got my need back

Shaking like a lovesick
fiend

On every letter of your speech

I'll filter this wormhole
off kilter
into every relationship
in front of my eyes

Until we meet again,

I won't stop telling stories
of jackals speaking english

To fetch our sweet meat
from top shelves
and ruins

Blue and bruised
flesh alludes
to stories unspoken

and broken glass
dreams of unity

Bottle falls

Slow motion

It all seems
like a dream
in endless blue
love tokens
"It's how we communicate."
Tori Jurdanus Feb 2013
I like to make lists,
of things I've lost, assignments I've missed,
Of people I want to meet.
And I admit, most of those people are poets.
And I know how typical that might seem,
aspiring poet looks to understand a greater inspiration,
be enlightened by the sound of their voice as humans,
not the voice they use on stage, a made-up persona, a super hero.
And all of that? Is true.
I want to ask questions, I want to hear about their triumphs and their regrets and try to match each one with things I've heard from other poets, relate it to myself.
I'd think maybe I can be great one day, display one of my own poems on a trophy shelf.
And for every person on that list I have another someone,
on another list labelled People I am Proud to Know.
And all of these people are poets.
People you will probably never hear of,
And if you have, you still can't possibly understand the origin of their stage names,
The inspiration for their concepts.
And I will try, with every ounce of my being to spill out the trivia into a fishbowl as if these people were goldfish. As if I could ask you to stick your hand in and try to grasp the idea in your bare fingertips with my muck of explanations as your only net.
But its hard, because not all poets have pens, not all poetry is built with words.
It is built with sweat and and laughter and pride.
In name calling I wish I could go by on stage.
There is poetry in the way she kisses her boyfriend,
There is poetry in the way Malawi still sparkles in her eyes,
There is poetry in our long nights and jokes and the way they tell me to shut up simultaneously.
There is poetry in our dances on the sand.
I will forever follow in their footsteps.
When we were little, they they used to make me cry just so they could be the ones to tell me it was okay.
There are still days I cry. There are still moments I feel homesick no matter where I am and feel like it'll only get better if they let their baby sister crawl between their sheets.
I follow in their footsteps because it makes me feel like I know where I'm going,
through sand or snow or mud,
there will always be poetry there.
I feel it. Its all I've learned to know.
tread Apr 2013
Etymology,

                  Spanish.

  First appeared  

      on a gravestone

             in Warwickshire, England.

       Means:  

         'loveable,'
                      
                      'have to be loved,'

                                         'deserving of love.'

All technicalities aside,
I'm not with you for your
name. That'd be like saying,

'I'm here for the free cheesecake,*
but make sure it calls itself a cheesecake,
because I trust cheesecake, but not the
moon when it questions my insanity.
Frightens me with the prospect of a
normal life.'

I haven't found the answer yet.
I haven't been looking. I've been
too busy loving you, until one day
I woke up and realized 'its always
in the last place you look.' I'd been
nuzzled in your chest for hours
before I noticed I'd found the
most important meaning
in life.


Amanda.

Etymology,

             Spanish.

        First appeared on a gravestone

                  in Warwickshire, England.

Means:

                'loveable,'

                             'have to be loved,'

                                              'deserving of love.'
I am glad we met.
I am glad Robert took you under his wing.
I am glad you stumbled upon me.
You are a great person.
You deserve more than life has to offer.
You are beautiful in every way.
Don't you dare say otherwise.
Robert and I are here whenever you need us.
As friends...
As shoulders to cry on...
As siblings...
We will always be here for you.
Amanda?
We love you.
For a great girl Amanda. You helped me realize Robert and I are really meant to be! You are a great girl.
Amanda Feb 2018
A: Adorable
M: Mannerly
A: Attractive
N: Natural
D: Dazzling
A: Active
  Amanda,you're a blessing!!
About myself
Willow Branche Jul 2014
I got lost in the darkness,
And found HER on the way,
As I lay here in the dark,
I pray for forgiveness,
HER SINS haunt me,
Thoughts forever inside,
I lie here in the dark,
Wanting to DIE
Wanting to CUT
"WHY DONT YOU DO IT
YOU SCAREDY ****?!?!"
She pulls at my mind
Asking me WHY?
"WHY DONT YOU
PUT AN END TO IT ALL?"
My only answer is to cry:
"MANDY IS SO MUCH STRONGER THAN I!!!"

.AMANDA FALLS.
A poem about living with dissociative identity disorder.
Heirlooms

Jun 2017

One day, parkouring through my uncles two story apartment,

I was drawn naturally to his desktop computer

upon which I found his OkCupid Dating profile.

I don't remember his username, Or anything about the site really,

But I remember the head-shot of a beautiful woman

framed above the desk

the sterile grey Rubbermaid totes behind me like caskets, 

How they made even the hardwood floors

look like they were holding in the dead.

For my Grandmothers birthday

my family gathered at Captain Newicks

her favorite seafood restaurant.

My uncle flirted with the waitress.

I don't think I've ever gone to a restaurant with my uncle where he

didn't flirt with the waitress.

Captain Newicks went out of business shortly after that dinner

followed shortly by my grandmothers life.

the relationship between my uncle and that waitress expired well

before both my Grandmother or Captain Newicks.

I remember asking my grandmother about my Uncle.

Tarots Fool would have predicted

my grandmothers eyelids

a silent prayer before her words.

He had two children by his first wife,

keeps a portrait of her above his desk.

She was a blessing on the family

Selfless amd loved by every one.

She took her own life

Spread her wings to break free from the cage He kept her locked in.

He buried his heart in her casket,

motorcycles, empty bottles

had a third child by a second wife

who buried her heart in drugs and strangers.

Amanda was 6 years old when her mother died.

my uncles wife. Her brother josh was 3

when she died my uncle wanted to put them both up for adoption

he didn't.

Their mother died on the 20th of September

a week after her 25th birthday.

their mother once bought a bunch of carnations

with a dead rose in the middle

and said "it looks like I'm dead".

she took a bottle of pills before going to a chinese restaurant

went out as a family

and collapsed at the table.

she was rushed to the hospital

she didn't make it.

their mother wasn't happy

her and my uncle were getting divorced at the time

lived in the same house that I grew up in.

when my uncle told the kids mommy wasn't coming home

my mother was 17 

and there to see all of it.

When my mother was 17 

she had to watch her baby cousins be told their mother had died.

When my grandmother passed.

grief bounced off of my uncles callouses

ricocheted to my cousins, robbed 

twice now of a selfless mother.

The tragedies in my family

have always enthralled me.

like shakespeare sonnets

I breath them into my faithless nights

tap an extra dream-catcher on my bedpost

in space of a prayer.

When The hearth-fire of our family dimmed 

a tealight in my grandmothers eyes.

grayed, Glossed.

she could no longer crochet 

one big dysfunctional quilt, 

together from our families yarn.

without her needle, 

I was determined to watch how our life spun forward.

The next time I saw my uncle,

He offered me a job.

Thick mosquito blinded us as we carried our sweat 

with Rubbermaid totes into a blue two story home 

deep in the evergreen thickets of Maine.

a tall white fan rotated slowly back and fourth 

Cooling the wet patches on our T-shirts while my Uncle 

flirted with the landlord

I still remember when my uncle tossed me the truck keys

the look of terror I gave him

How easy it was for him to trust

I guess when your heart is buried in a casket 

you stop worrying who has your keys.

It makes me remember

when my daughter asked for my keys 

I would sit her in the drivers seat

watch her pretend to drive.

I loved imagining her free

living how she wanted.

I still wouldn't give her my keys.

she would turn my car into a casket.

It makes me remember

when that little girls mother asked me to drive

My words spun portcullises

prison bars forged in anxiety

scaffolding out of latex secrets

Glued with siren smiles, pacifier kisses

denying cigarette smoke on her breath

fueling infernos in my head.

when my uncle handed me his keys without hesitation.

my religion was insulted by his tough skin.

I felt his simple kindness 

like a splash of holy water. 

saw in me, the devil 

caging a woman like property

holding her hostage 

out of fear.

And yes 

when She could drive she left me

And yes 

when she left me she took her daughter.

every morning 

cereal bowl of pills, I **** myself

keep a poster of my mothers face 

covered in bruises 

behind the tiny orange bottles 

to remind me why I do it.

wake up twice, 

first as Phoenix, dying

second as a watcher, writer and admirer.

callouses are not to protect us from the outside at all.

Callouses harden our bodies into caskets.

Hold in all our dead.
Amanda F Feb 2017
Tie yourself to those who fly
Aspire the vivid in our onyx sky
Rid the negative
Utilise the prime
Be dynamic and spiritual
In all of your time.*

Amanda. F (c) 2017
My 1st poem on Hp
Dedicated to my Mother
Lady R.F
September Nov 2012
Oh, mother, mother!
Do you see me,
smiling
at the needle?
Mother, mother?                        

Oh, friends, friends!
Do you hear me,
laughing
from the addiction?
Friends, friends?                        

Oh, nurse, nurse!
Do you smell
the wafting
iron?
Nurse, nurse?                        

Oh, world, world!
Do you feel me
grasping
your wrist?
World, world?                        

Oh, Amanda, Amanda!
Do you taste your
bleeding
vein?
Amanda, Amanda?                        

The mother—
The friends—
The nurse—
The world—
And I—
Answer, *"no."

— The End —