Ask Americans why they prefer kosher Hebrew National Frankfurters for July 4th cookouts



they will reply:

they are extra clean,
possibly even a little blessed
by the rabbin-ate,
and everybody knows
the jews got all the luck,
so don’t forget the mustard and
the pickled relish,
which rhymes with
you know what:
(embellish, shellfish (?), psychedelic).

kosher hot dogs,
love that jewish treat,
a digestive hellish,
proof positive that hot dogs
make America great
again and again,
in brown, yellow, and green.

For you it is red, white and blue; firecrackers,

cookouts and American beer. How easy it

must be to assume that by saying “God Bless

Our Troops” you are patriotic. I have an

entirely different view of the 4th of July.



Every boom is an IED, every pop a ******

round. If your God was present when my

brain was shattered he did not show up to

see me through my recovery. You presume

that every soldier is a Christian like you.



I was an American soldier. I’ve bled and

killed in service for this country. I left behind

pieces of myself in faraway lands. It was my

choice. Do not use me to support your moral

propaganda. I am a veteran. I am not your

political stage-prop.

Water ebbs and flows like the gentle breeze
Tourists lounge in chairs, watching with practiced ease
Bright blue skies dotted with clouds roll by
*** in hand, I sit and let out a contented sigh

Flashing back to the times of years long past
When wiffleball, sleepovers, and cookouts trended; not the latest reality cast
When movies, delivered pizza , and cake felt like the perfect day
And no one obsessed  over what social media had to say

Let’s bring back the joy of those  pure summer days
With nothing to do but let them pass in a daze
A fog over my mind, past worries but a whisper
Looking forward to good memories  with my brother and sister

Whether school-age or not, what a great time of year
Visits await with friends and relatives; vacation is drawing near
Take a moment just to savor it and let that feeling stay
For life will roll in like the tide and try to take it all away.

I am from the ever expanding library of my imagination.
From stories that I keep re-writing in my head.
From all the things that happened a lifetime ago to the hopes and dreams of tomorrow.
From the falling leafs in Autumn to the blossoming flowers in the Spring.  
From the smells of fresh cut grass, gasoline, and pine-sol.
From countless hours with my nose in a book.
From ‘Maureen Elizabeth I swear’ to ‘one more chance’ and getting ten.

I am from the ever expanding library of my imagination.
From the endless supply of golf ***** in the basement to the mountains of unopened Pepsi.
From the non working clock on the porch to the woods with our forts.
From ‘only one’ and taking five.
From ‘don’t get that on your clothes it’ll stain’ and ‘stop biting your nails,’ a habit I’m still trying to break.


I am from the ever expanding library of my imagination
From tickle wars that always end with my hiding or crying because I’m the most ticklish person you’ll ever meet.
From older siblings saying ‘there’s someone in the house’ to scare me to ‘Fight me!’ as a joke
From the holes in the walls from sibling or cousins fighting.
From endless hours that my siblings and I would spend cleaning and being mad at Mom.
From secret discussions to sneaking around and being caught.
From our “spy agency,” to ‘Mom and Josh are coming run!’

I am from the ever expanding library of my imagination
From the yellow van always parked in the lot
From the yelling of children outside.
From the cookouts at friends houses.
From fights to forgiveness.

I am from the ever expanding library of my imagination
From the inside of my head  
From my grandfather’s house
From the books I read.
From countless hours spent with siblings
From the ruined friendships of my past to the ones that’ll last a lifetime.
I am from the ever expanding library.

“She’s dead.” 

Just like that:

two words cause an eruption; 

A dam break. 

She was alive, 

and laughing, 

and smiling, 

and doing her job

(and doing whatever it is —

important or not —

that a person does 

when they’re living 

and you’re not thinking about them.)
*
“There was a gun,”*

they said.
*
“Her boyfriend is dead too,”* 

they said. 

“It was a parking dispute,”

they said.

And no amount of explanation 

could take the air that escaped her lungs

and put it back

to restart that beautiful, 

big,

loving heart inside her. 

And then you think, 

Man, if I had picked up the phone. 

Man, if I had made more effort. 

Man, if I had been a better friend. 

But you know you can’t change the past, 

and even three hours ago
when you were folding clothes, 

and she was sitting in that house

is the past. 

And now she’s gone and you don’t know why. 

“Everything happens for a reason,” 

they say. 

But they don’t tell you what the reason is.

And sometimes, you never figure it out. 

Then comes the candles, and the funeral.

And an eighteen year old ray of sunshine
is being put in the ground. 

And you’re here. 

Living, 

and breathing, 

and folding clothes. 

And you wonder why her 

and not you. 

You’re surely not deserving enough

to live 

while she can’t. 

And her family; 

All you can think about is her mother, 

and her father. 

And you remember watching TV, 

and riding the boat on the lake, 

and the cookouts, 

and even that time she was sleeping
and snoring a little.

You can still hear her voice. 

And remember that week before Christmas
when you saw her,
and she was really busy making coffee? 

But she sad hi to you and mom anyway. 

Nothing is the same anymore.

The world just isn’t the place it used to be.

Things like that just don’t happen where you live. 
Maybe in Los Angeles, 

or Florida. 

But certainly not in Maine. 

Not to someone you went to high school with. 

And certainly not her. 

No, not her. 

But it happened. 

A 74 year old man 

shot and killed your friend. 

Stole her life, and her light. 

And the worst part is that the world
keeps on turning 

even thought it feels like it stopped.

It greets your nose with mixture of smoke, perfume and stale beer.
On the counter , an empty pickle jar , a few dollars in there.
Always a need for that jar , times get rough,
it's  a way we help friends and pray it never is us.
Band is setting up and sound checks going right,
few folks already here, going to be a good night.
Folks come in here to take a load off  for awhile,
some come to sip, others to get plum wild.
Barmaid looking good with that pushup bra,
boy got lucky and married her last fall.
Six days a week this bar rocks and rolls
and true to the good Lord  on Sunday we closed.
A few new boys and gals here to night,
pitching pick up lines, one might be right.
Someone will get lucky and cross that line,
someone will be in luck, get drunk  but leave the car for the night.
This old bar is a meet and greet place,
information gets passed and memories erased.
Cookouts in the back for a charity or two.
Bike wash, car wash, a  flash of skin might happen too.
All in all, this place fits us all,
I'm glad to say that I am a part of this old bar.

Oh, spring how your dear to me
and as pretty as can be
with the buzzing bees
and the flowers oh so pretty

When Spring comes I can't wait
for playing outside until late
with cookouts on plates

Oh spring how I love you!!!

My mind is playing tricks on me, my dear
I almost feel as though I'm home again
Passion Pit playing in the background and
Of Monsters and Men playing in my head
Cards on the floor slipping through the only cold floorboards
We're all shirtless again
It's one hundred thousand and ten degrees outside
the walls haven't quite crumbled down
over the cabins that we love
the clouds can't penetrate these green hills, much less roll over them
only we can roll on these hills in our hot sleeping bags
and almost fall into the green lily pond and the sky's green
but I'm not scared anymore
Because I've jumped off the high dive and
introduced myself to older girls
What else could there be to love other than the smell of cookouts
bad singing, and BO?
I painted my face for the first time to give a blanket
to a girl who'd never have a better night.
I got my eyebrows plucked in the same room and night
She plucked my guilt out like the hairband she was trying to undo,
her fingers said, "you're forgiven,"
my eyes said, "thank you,"
as I leapt through the fields to hug my friend because she was crying
even though I was naked
I braided so much hair during that time-
Held more hands than you'd wanna
Jesse McCartney didn't even know what a beautiful soul was-
My summer was set to the playlist of
the only twenty year old in the room who is trying to guide our ships
as we sail through the changing ocean tides
and summer is the easiest to handle of the seasons of my life-
There, I built my own wheel, learned how to take it myself,
and then I gave it to Jesus
and he's piloting fine.

The grass is greener on my side,
this time
and it's freshly mowed,
releasing its scent into the noses
of the kids running up and down the streets,
screaming their praises to the god of summer,
and begging for just a little bit more time.
Steam rising from the burning pavement,
the smell of cookouts
the warm air
springing life to the city around me.

Riding in my car with all the windows down
screaming along to Say Anything
and feeling alive with the glory of love.
All of this creeping up on me
surprising me with its inviting grin,
everything is funny now
because all of this
always leads me
straight back
to you.

I dig my toes into the cold dark dirt
thinking to myself these words
that could never encompass
the taste of the atmosphere around me,
finally wrapping itself in a flannel blanket.
I feel like a broken record
scratching at the same chorus,
trying adjectives to describe the way
today smells like better times,
but I'm determined
and I'll keep trying
to make these times even better.

When I look in the mirror gazing at my reflection
I will always think of you Dad.
I will remember all the people whose hearts you touched and your departure that made us sad.
You were my Dad first, my bestman, my bestfriend
and my first example of a family man.
There were so many things that shouldve crossed your mind
but your families well being was your plan.

I have so many fond memories and thoughts including you
that came rushing through my head,
such memories would break a weaker man
but your strength helps me to look ahead.
I will miss our talks and laughs and I know the cookouts will not be the same,
but I will carry on the tradition in honor of carrying on your name.
So when that dreadful day will come however long it be,
your hard work ethics, family devotion and love for helping others my family will see in me.

I am from keurig brewers and phones
from grits and Bluetooth headphones
I am from the white walls,
incense, and
I am from the lilacs outdoors
The neighbors plants

I am from "Wash your hands" and "Go Cavaliers!!"
I am from No Scrubs by TLC and shouting at TV due to basketball
I'm from family cookouts and foster care
I'm from Madison, WI and short prayers around the table
From my mom going to riots,
Thick hair,
and white walls.
I am from a cozy home on the north side of Madison,
and a good hug when needed.

I'm from hard times.
I'm from hard fought battles and long talks about
why **** is bad.
I'm from dumb arguments and loud cheers from the audience.
I'm from so much, and so little.

Love,
me.

I’m reminiscing on the past, the time
you were outside conversing with the
family and giggling uncontrollably,
lost in the good times and cookouts
that illuminates your mind,
while your mother and dad sat in the
rocking chair staring at the scenery
surrounding their sight and the little
kids running jubilantly down the pavement,
your eyes sinking into their laughs and
the richness of their youth.  I’m seeing the
smile in your shimmering teeth when you
stood in front of the grill, gently turning the
grilled fried chicken, fresh flounder, tender
steak and smoked sausages until they were
fully cooked.  There was a melanin glow
in your skin that lit up the surface encompassing
your path, a magnificent depiction full of hope
and dreams.  I’m rearranging the vivid details
inside my mind and looking at you when you were
sitting next to your brother drinking a beer,
head held up to the sky like an eagle gazing
into the clouds, the way you guzzled down
the last drop to its core and chuckling
afterwards, your face swimming in delight.  
There was so much vivacity in your essence,
the way the afternoon breeze blew around
your body, the way the shape of your arms
personified boldness and bravery, how when
you moved in different directions; there was a
gleaming light shining in your direction.  I’m
recalling everything all at once and it’s
destroying the inner core of my being.  I know
I must let go, but these memories are resurfacing
from the depths of outer dimensions and striking
my soul relentlessly.

Rich as the soil, my people rich as the soil, I want no dirt on my name, compared it to ***** in a bucket; so I don't want to stay in my community, I thrive with the people with hearts cold as concrete, no cookouts, at least there's no shootouts. My people lost in the sauce, I'm seasoned to drain these ***** ****** that taint my kids growth, no room for weeds to induce it. I'm rich as the soil, my people rich as the soil, until they know it, they're nutrient poor as the sand, you won't catch my kids at sand boxes; we'll be in gardens growing sweet potatoes and cabbages and poison it to savages.

To the degree of mastery
no college
forget the
masters degree
A bachelor amongst
associates
life is just time
How do you spend it
who gives a ****
what you got
Please tell me how
YOU FEEL
is it all a dream ?
is it relevant you care ?
Or are you afraid
living week to week
a never ending
NIGHTMARE
Yeah I have my faults
my insecurities are real
But I vent those out
on here so they can’t be near
MY TIME
I spend it well
I live life to the fullest
I rise up slowly but surely
with my friends and loved ones
on my back
RELIABLE
I rather be eye level
with my peers
than looked up on
I hate looking down
on someone
REGARDLESS
Last week was Pennsylvania
this week Michigan
Next week 8 days off
before going to Ohio
I love my job
because I get to
TRAVEL
I love my job
because I get to
take multiple weeks off
Money can’t buy happiness
but it’s a good down-payment
TRUTHFULLY
I got the job, I got a car, I got a camper, I got a truck, I got a couple tractors, I owe nothing to no one, so someone please tell me why I can’t be happy?
I don’t have bills I have titles, I don’t live check to check but rather wreckless, life of the party, I’m the hostess, I create environments second to none, my main focus to create
a good time
I may not spend it wisely
but I spend it good
bonfires, cookouts, parties
If the mood is good
then better believe
it was on purpose
Mr know it all
they call me
not because I’m arrogant
but rather they know
every variable
that could go wrong
I thought about
amongst my plans
1-2-3 and A-B-C
i got a solution
for problems
that may never
SURFACE

Bound and gagged
Laying on the floor
Naked
Bleeding
Hurting
The Salt from my tears stings
As they wash over the wounds upon my boby


For three years we had been friends
For three years we had been like brothers
Having cookouts
Going to ball games and parties
Celebrating each other’s life
or
Just hanging out
Just the two of us


Little did I know the monster within my friend
It started out as small stuff
Touching
The way he spoke
Sometimes it ways the way he acted


Then one night while we sat on the couch
watching tv
He made his move
And jumped me
I tried to fight him off
But
To no avail


When I fought he fought back
Punching
Kicking
In some cases cutting me with a knife


Finally I gave up trying to fight
Seeing it was doing no good
And was just getting me hurt worse
Once when he had his knife out and was cutting me
I screamed “ Go ahead and **** me while you’re at it.”
His response “No I want to here you scream.”


He finally bound me
And started his ***** deed
Pounding his tool in my ***
Like a jackhammer
Again, and again, and again
The more I screamed in pain
The more he laughed


Through tears and blood
I endured it all
Then he was done
Before he left he told me
If I said anything to anyone
He’d come back and **** me
He gagged me just to be safe


After he left
Through much struggle
I worked free of my bonds


I never said anything about that moment
Until now
Two weeks after this happened
He was in a car crash and died
Justice paid from above

I have the mystical madness
But I hope my children definitely don't

Maybe a marine biologist
Maybe the madness won't

Lead them to write poems
Deep into the Night

They can work ordinary jobs
And have spouses that don't fight

Walks along the beach
Basketball with friends

Cookouts, picnics, quietness
Joy that does descend

Like moonlight upon Elliott Bay
Misty all over Seattle

For them I wish these good things
And for them I go to battle