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Melisa May 2015
Thirty thousand dollars.
That is how much a decent education will cost me.
Thirty thousand a year.
Thirty thousand that should go towards my family's debt right now but will only add to it in 2 years time.

"Why are these kids so lazy? Why don't they get degrees? Maybe then they wouldn't be so **** broke."

Well hey, the money we're hoping to make with our degrees means nothing when we're spending the first 10 'legal' years of our lives working to keep afloat,
keep the IRS from breathing down our necks,
keep pulling together just enough to not quite make rent yet again.

"Get a job. That's what I did growing up. You're just making excuses."

Yeah, and when you were growing up Yale's tuition was 5k and flipping burgers made enough to feed a family.

Brick by brick our fates are sealed,

Brick by brick we were set up for financial disrepair.

"Don't forget about FAFSA", right?
But of course, if you have an income, it's all going towards college, right?
Or if you don't, your middle class parents can afford to pay for you to go, right?

They don't need to give us a ton of help - rent is a luxury, remember?

Money is a luxury, remember?

Living is a luxury, remember?
And a great big ******* to the American education system.
Blake Bourland Aug 2012
Stay away from that victory gin that causes rebel rouses, but no elections
Go join the 99 percent and never graduate your fafsa dreams don’t intimidate me
**** your mace brand justice
and your senior citizen abuse.
join the merchant sailors like the greats. be some one who can change,
******* it what we need right now is someone who can wright this right of passage.
we need another Kerouac
we need another Ginsberg
cause all i ever did in Dallas was die
all i ever did in Dallas was die.
set me free from this pretentious tyranny of name brand sweaters, and lemon bars,
your art house cinema fulhouse applause can’t match the street grit grime of my soul.
too much vermouth with much rancid brine has made me a bitter soul of conquest.
the tomorrow is wasted youth on main street on a wave of *****, and appletini *******
sugar sweet synth pop and black liquorice hip hop spewing out of every show off trendy water hole.
the sixth street, fry street, main street, bourbon street of our fathers will swill down the drain
to make room for the next
for the next
for the next.........
after all we ever we wanted to do was last.  
where do we go from here?
bobby burns Mar 2016
upstairs and downstairs, like a frazzled owl character in my third-grade reader
in the doorway of my 200-level on sub-Sahara where we talk only of Nigeria
holding the elevator for my superior in the lobby of a too-tall edifice to man

a college student.
an ABD.
intern.

backstage at your high school graduation ceremony, your mortarboard won't stay on your head
in a food court where your mother doesn't get it when you say you can't wear pants anymore, or get your bimonthly haircut
when you're skirting the poverty line after your family business was sued but your FAFSA says parent #1 earns six figures

initiate.
neophyte.
not-quite-other.

the female body as a threshold between worlds, channel betwixt boundaries
Schrodinger's cat simultaneously in separation and marginal phases according to van Gennep
divorce papers signed but not sent, enclosed in manila at the bottom of a cherrywood desk

continuum.
spectrum.
a line without points.
on liminality
bobby burns Mar 2015
my grace is cherubic,
seraphic, angelic,
she is a temple built
upon skepticism.

my boy wears a sloth-suit
and is swept away by even
the weakest rapids after
dipping only his pinky toe.

my grace is a hefty FAFSA award,
and she is report card dinners,
a new-blue honda, a heartbreak,
she is coming home to  do laundry.

my boy is a defect, anomalous,
he cannot bide his time and so
rushes. i chase him to the city
limits and hope he'll get it right.

my grace is building strength,
compartmentalizing, sequencing,
she is careening into career
and coping/moping with loss.

my boy is behind, he's lazy.
he shirks, avoids, evades,
any escape, any port, no storm,
he has to bring something else,

he only sits with us when he
wants something. he spends
time with us when it serves
his agenda, his procrastination,

he likes men; he's abnormal,
he has to bring something
extra to the table or else
it will reflect badly on me.

i never went to college.
i rarely did my homework,
so my daughter, son, my wife,
they bear the brunt of my avoidance.

my grace breaks down while
student-teaching. i love her.
my boy aces econ test after
physics quiz. i tolerate him.
siblings from father's view
(get me out of this house)
I often find it puzzling when my 28-year-old sister displays her total lack of adult feeling. In her adult years she never has shown an ability to feel what my parents were feeling as they took care of her 100% financially.
    She was mentally ill from a very young age, a spectacle for the neighborhood kids to see as she took the smallest things to heart and didn't care much for friends to play with. Once old enough to have a job, she had no interest in having a job. And not in the usual immature teen kind of way, but a more deeply-rooted, adult fear of work and adult responsibility type of way.
    Now 28, still living at home and jobless she attends the local community college where she is afraid to check her grades because having no job or responsibilities does not allot her the ability to firmly grasp all A's. I was not always so highly critical of her. To the contrary, my whole family was made to think she was some mysterious *** of gold we all had to treat as if there was nothing peculiar and all her outlandish antics were okay.
   Indeed, I'd have no problem with her if she could only hold a ******* job, or do like I am and get on FAFSA and find a loving, kind-hearted man to support her while she goes to school. A man for whom she'll clean up after, do his ***** laundry and fulfill all domestic obligations in-part or entirely until she graduates an honors student and finds a career she can be proud of. But no, instead she found an abusive boyfriend who was himself mentally Ill, as arguably anyone would have to be to want to get with her, and after a fight she broke her cello and now my parents are paying for it. My dad, who has been for several years saving up for something nice for himself, who is now committed to paying for my wedding, who has been ignoring my emails inquiring about money to start buying little reception things, willingly or unwillingly. My mother, who barely makes anything as a public school teacher. Who both help support my uncle who is also living there now.
   *******, the hardship of my mental life has been to be angry at these people, the sweetest of the sweet for continually allowing her to suckle their metaphorical ***** for 10 years too long. The enabling has put me into a mental twist and I have become obsessed with it because I was down in it for so long. I guess all families have that one person, but few too my personal knowledge have one like this. Sometimes, I wish one of her suicide attempts had been successful, but then my parents would be enthralled in pain and anguish for something that may have been different, but probably never will. It is just like how it is better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all. If she'd never been born, maybe they'd been happier. Or maybe she'd have been born a different person. But now they have her, and they can't go back.
   She'll probably wind up homeless once my parents are gone. We've both agreed we can't take her on...
   This all might make me seem like the bad guy, but you wouldn't know unless you spent a day in the life.
True story. My sister just turned 28, has no job, lives at home, doesn't drive and my father is now paying for the instrument she threw across the room, and neglecting to answer my emails asking for small installments of reception money so my Maid of Honor and I can start buying things... But, as I said, I can never be mad. How can one be mad at Mr. & Mrs. Mother Teresa for caring for a ****** they chose to have.  (I use the term ****** because she is, for all intensive purposes emotionally and socially *******)
Gemini Jan 2020
Bullets made of lead
Brave soldiers blood keeps getting shed
IEDs and S-vest go off leaving captain America with TBI and shrapnel in his head
America said it’s only my 3rd day out here so why must y’all choose to put me 6 feet deep in my bed
My winter nights supposed to be cold not ******
When I said a vacation far from everyone I didn’t mean in ROTC crawling on the ground getting muddy
And I won’t say names
But this countries deck of cards hasn’t been the same since we added the 45th card and now he keeps receiving the wrong kind of fame
I don’t have a problem with the man it’s more his beliefs choices and antics
Airstrikes on foreign countries now WW3 is trending and everyone’s in a panic
College students scared to file their FAFSA because they’re scared to be drafted
To think I almost brought a child in this world
To think I almost married one of my friends to keep her in her first world of choice and not taken back to her third world
People get married in court rooms then take pictures in front of the courthouse and settle for dutty pigeons flying over head instead of the white doves
No flower girl in sight just kids forced to dress up and smile for their parents wedding picture but it’s the fifth guy they’ve seen their mother with so they’re confused as to what is really love
Most women dreams of an elaborate wedding get shot down and crushed due to the fear of immigration looming
Now men’s dreams of being able to protect and provide for their family get replanned for them by getting shipped to war to prevent nuclear bombs to get to booming
Instead of making peace we’re bombing people
Before getting out of one war we’re deployed to the next
Low morale and fatigue get us captured and tortured now the enemy is recording a video of chopping off our necks
We just sent 700 troops to the Middle East to prepare for a war that’s imminent
If not WW3 scale there’s a war coming
And when it comes I’ll be running
Not towards the bullets but in the opposite direction
Up north and make my new national anthem oh Canada and sipping a Canada Dry
And if I look at the news and hear sad reports about my former country I probably won’t have a tear in my eye

— The End —