"scholarship" poems
black girl
burnt fingertips on blunts and radio knobs
singing along to the words
pretending to fall in love
black girl
stuck with scratches
ashes
burnt skin
a taste for
female friends that benefit
black girl
can't hide her DNA
as easily as her true colors
black girl best friend
back girl white for a black girl
black girl lives on the north side
has a side girl on the south
black girl plays blues
bumps Kings of Leon
and Future
wondering which of the two
will be her future
black girl
never cusses in front of her sister
even though all she says is
'fuck it'
black girl white car
black girl no license
black girl speeds
black girl art school
black girl need scholarship
black girl raps
and forgets the words
black girl gossip girl
black girl breaks cigarettes
black girl never laughs at me when I think she will
black girl psh
black girl so much better
than who she thinks she is
black girl can't take a compliment
won't take credit
black girl so beautiful
black girl never pays for drugs
but gets high every night
black girl sometimes makes me jealous
sometimes I want to make
black girl jealous
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 3:27 AM UTC
It's like a blind man leading a poor man
He sees the cliff coming but he doesn't mind
Grateful to have company on the way down
Thinks the cloud they'll fall through will be silver lined
It's like the teenager who just gave birth to a still born accident
It hurts real bad inside
But she's grateful that if she returns all the diapers everybody bought her
She might have enough money to buy a prom dress
Thinks the pain she feels will be silver lined
It's like the boyfriend of the young girl who just gave birth to the still born child
Grabs his cleats out the closet
Grateful he still has time to get a college scholarship
Dumped her over the phone
Said he didn't like the way her ***** *** whined
Thinks adding another drop to the bucket of pain he will never feel is silver lined
It's like a young man who works at a gas station
With dreams so big he'd have to run the world to accomplish them
Grows up, gets marrieds, gets settled, and settles
Knows the only way he'll make the TV is by beating his wife
Grateful that strangers know who he is
Thinks the jail time he's serving is silver lined
It's like the grown man who has everything the boy at the gas station ever wanted
Doesn't want it, wishes he could give it back, but can't
So he buys houses, clothes, and Cadillacs
Grateful to have enough
Thinks the silver lining on his silver Cadi is silver lined
It's like the overwhelmed twenty something year old who puts a lock on her own knife drawer
Too proud to get help
Grateful that she has a boyfriend willing to take the brunt
Of all the problems she can't see past
Thinks the inconvenience of the knife drawer is silver lined
It's like the boyfriend of the overwhelmed twenty something year old
Who takes the brunt of all the problems she can't see past
Grateful he has a key to the knife drawer
Thinks the blood on the floor will be enough
To show her there's more to the world than the problems she can't see past
Thinks his mama's heartache will be silver lined
It's like the staunch republican who got laid off last year
Now he's so broke he's on unemployment, food stamps, and TANF
Grateful the democrats were in control during the great depression
Still voted for John McCain
Thinks the bumper sticker on the back of his car is silver lined
It's like the young family started by a couple kids
Who insisted on having a couple of their own
Now they're too poor to afford but too rich for assistance
Begging their government to bail them out of something that nursery rhymes got them into
Grateful their truck didn't break down again this month
Thinking raising hungry babies is silver lined
It's like a poor man leading a blind man
Who knows the cliff is coming
Knows they're going over and doesn't really mind
Grateful to finally be in the company of someone just as blind as he is
Thinking the cloud they'll fall through is silver lined.
Aug 25, 2009
Aug 25, 2009 at 7:38 PM UTC
I am a *****
Minus the triggers being pulled and the drugs being sold
But just a black man bold enough to face a world so cold
A cold world we call society
When being black and sobriety doesn't mix because we use drugs in variety
But quietly
I am a *****
Thinking what made this word so negative
Is it because we made it positive
Or is it negative we became cognitive enough for a scholarship
Yes, I am a ***** no I'm not a rapper
But this system makes me sick enough for chicken soup and crackers
Yes, I am a ***** and I am an athlete
And I still maintain my sanity from having my *** beat
Although I am a ***** I am not lesser than you
Nor am I second to you
I just wonder what it takes to get the message to you
Crazy I'm a ***** yet I still know my father
Crazier calling me a ***** doesn't give me a bother
Maybe it's crazy that I'm a part of the problem
What's craziest is I'm a ***** still attending a college
You should have no problem reading this regardless of race
What's absurd is a word means more than a face
We're more focused on race than we are as a species
But I'm going to sit back and take a sip of this sweet tea
We went from black panthers, huge bushes, picks, and combs
I thought words could never hurt you?
What happened to sticks and stones?
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 1:27 AM UTC
The heavy girls are too heavy
The skinny girls are too thin
The **** is perfect
The nerd is a try hard
The fangirl is a freak
The fanboy is gay
The goth girl is a *****
The goth boy is insane
The person who asked for help today just needed a person to talk with
But in today's society we only follow hate and gossip
That skinny girl can't gain wait
That fat girl doesn't know what to do
That **** maybe varsity but he's got problems too
The nerd is poor and wants to go to college and the only way to do that is through a scholarship
The fangirl lives in a fictional world because of the judgmental people in her own
The fanboy does the same and it doesn't matter wheather or not he is straight or gay
The goth girl isn't a ***** she just listens to her music and wears black
The goth boy isn't insane he just wants his happy life back
The person who asked for help today really did need it
But now it's too late for her and now her death has been completed
All of these people could be good or bad but you will never know that
Because in today's society we only follow hate a gossip
So the next time you see a strangers face
Go on say hi and see what they say
Some might stick their noses up and walk away
But for others a stranger being friendly just might make their day.
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 1:03 PM UTC
Suicidal tendencies, alleged attempt in 2011
(National Scholar-Athlete)
Bipolar with psychotic features, meds necessary
(President of student government)
Anti-social features, deceptive, manipulative, lying.
(Captain of varsity athletics)
Qualifies as a pickup. Forfeits all rights. Police involvement if necessary.
(President of an all-star rugby club)
Extreme aggression. Any homicidal idealization should be taken seriously.
(Trustee Scholarship to a renown private college)
Narcotics abuse. Marijuana, LSD, Klonopin, ******* Alcohol, Painkillers
(3.7 GPA)
Masks and shields intentions. Deceptive with professionals.
(Active volunteer)
I advise that he be admitted to a hospital immediately
(Participant in community)
Drug abuse counseling, medication, extensive therapy necessary
(Leader of peers)
Diagnoses fly like a panhandlers love affairs
Your inexact science is a disgrace to what I've created
A philosophy based on your experience
Ignoring the dynamic of the human condition
****** for feeling to much
****** for not feeling enough
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 12:37 AM UTC
One morning, I decided to ask people what their favorite myth is. I asked them what myth did they think was the greatest, and the one that made a huge impact on them. The most interesting one, the myth that would keep you wanting for more. Some people said vampires, some people said dragons, some said the origin of the world, and of course, most of them said the famous Greek mythology. And I asked some, what myth do they think is the most unlikely thing to happen, what is the myth that will never be real? And I was taken aback when some said their favorite myth was **** culture, followed with laughter. As if it’s a myth, as if it’s fiction, as if it’s something that isn’t real.
**** culture is a myth. It’s not real. It’s not happening. Apparently, it’s just a work of fiction for some people. Apparently it is a myth when it’s happening everyday. It is a myth when you report it to them, and instead of asking “Are you okay?”, the first question they will ask is “What were you wearing?”. Because your skirt was the reason, your sleeveless top was the one that gave them permission. And when you told them you were wearing sweatshirt and pants, they will ask you “Were you drinking?”. When someone took away something that is yours without consent and you’ll be the one blamed. Because you were wearing shorts, because you were drinking, because you were just outside. *When we teach women everything about not getting ***** but we don’t teach men to simply not **** When our bodies are nothing to you but to objectify. When you see us and think the word sexualize.* When they asked you whether you said no or stop, and if you didn’t, you liked it. It was consensual. But you never said yes, and it’s not **** right? It is not real when people shame the victim, when the help people are giving you are words such as **** ***** and instead of calling you a survivor you will be known as “the girl who was asking for it”. *It is a work of fiction when nothing happens to the ****** or when some even refuse to call that person a ****** You will see headlines describing him as an athlete, as someone who has scholarship, any good thing but ****** *It is a myth when the ****** runs free, but the victim is still suffering and constantly being shamed. It is a myth when the world thinks men who are getting ***** are weak men, when they don’t think the consent of men are also important.* When people continue to joke about something that can ruin someone else’s life. Apparently all of these things aren’t real, these things aren’t happening.
But how could one person even think that **** culture is a myth? That **** culture doesn’t exist? *It’s not like the trojan war, because it’s far more chaotic. It destroys and kills people. It lets bad people win and victims suffer. It’s not like vampires who don’t sleep and **** people’s blood, instead this is even more dangerous than vampires. This normalizes something dangerous, something horrible.* And the people who do it, who contribute to it, and who do nothing to stop it? Are worse than monsters in mythology. And why would we even call it a myth when we learn something good in myth? When myth teaches us something good in life? **** culture is not a myth, **** culture is happening everywhere. *When you turn on the television and see comedians joking about **** when people call the **** victim they know a **** when people don’t believe someone when ***** reports it to them, when until now, **** is still considered inevitable.* **** culture is not a myth, **** culture is real, **** culture is happening. And they say **** culture is part of the reality that we have to face, but what do we do to things that bring us no good? To things that damage our reality? *We do everything we can to stop them, to destroy them, to crush them. And that needs to happen to **** culture,* now.
Apr 8, 2017
Apr 8, 2017 at 5:26 AM UTC
On the first day, he was pushed
robust in his stance, the other forced,
this boy down the spiral staircase
of the Catholic church, the school
had renovated, the Spring before
Isaac had begun his studies,
at the high school.
Ballet was his passion, Latin was the
language that so effortlessly, fluently
was spoken from his lips in class
as he smiled at his Professor, another
victory accomplished in academia
so proud were his parents, of their
blue eyed boy.
Jonah was the reject, the older brother
he had been kicked out of school,
not once, but twice, and was often
found with a joint, his unshaven face
wrapped around one of the girls,
from the all girls school that ran
alongside Isaacs all boys.
Issac was hurt, a further blow to his
stomach, rendered him broken
as a waterfall of tears ran down his
bruised and cut face, so ashamed
as other pupils laughed, staring, pointing
until the final bell rang as they fled from
the high ceilings and narrow corridors.
Wrapped in a ball, he waited for all
halls and students to clear, and as
he rolled over, picking himself up
he took to the washroom, knowing he
needed to be presentable for his mother
waiting for him at the school gate
brimming with pride, at her boys scholarship.
All his dreams, mystical and serene, Romeo and Juliet
fluid streams of poetry of Elliot, Poe, Hughes
and of course Wilde and those love letters of Beethoven
math, biology, all paled into insignificance
he was born a writer, a dancer, a drawer,
sketching and typing his heart to a page,
prose a future love would read.
Johan saw his mother's car pull up
as he raced and giggled with Saskia
leading her astray, he promised her all
the things those boys always did, and of course
not to break her sweet sixteen heart, unlike other boys
as his mother smoked another Camel, the two lovers
jumped into his truck, Johnny Cash blaring from speakers
laughing hysterically, the world at their feet.
By 4pm, Isaac was ready to leave school,
tentatively walking out the main door, down
concrete slabs as steps, no predators in sight
he couldn't hide the dark circles under his eyes
that formed as bruises, knowing he was fortunate
to have not been damaged further
by the haunting before last period.
Walking to the gates, he listened through
headphones; Tchaikovsky
his release
his home
his saving grace.
© Sia Jane
Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 6:53 PM UTC
I don’t have faith.
I just know that I belong to my Savior Jesus. I met her once when I was 11, at her humble single wide in a cramped trailer park and she made candied walnuts on a hotplate. I didn’t find out until years later that she paid for my scholarship. She had passed on by then; I wish I could have thanked her.
He arrived at Juvenile Hall at 7:00 pm looking like Mrs. Santa Claus, to take me into her home for a year. I made some sarcastic teenage comment about the stupid country music on her car radio, and she tolerated it with a smile; saying ‘its not stupid, its simple.’ She showed me what a caring family looks like and didn’t kick me out for being a ******** gave me chores and a curfew to show me I belonged.
When I had no family or boyfriend in my life, I lived in a maternity home until my baby would be adopted. Jesus was the stranger in the hushed hospital room holding my hand, after the medics couldn’t find the heartbeat in the ambulance, which was confirmed on the maternity floor, and I was taken to another floor so my crying wouldn’t upset the other mothers. The room was small and dark and alone, and the clock on the wall took an eternity to move two minutes, for the entire night that I was in labor, the longest night in my life. I didn’t remember someone holding my hand; I was so drugged for pain. She showed me her arms two days later, so bruised because she didn’t leave me.
Jesus was the woman from Planned Parenthood on the other end of the phone, listening to me when I called the Women’s Clinic asking how I could find a doctor. ‘ I just moved here, and I work at a minimum wage job, and I lost my baby a month ago, but how do I get a post-partum exam when I don’t have a doctor, or any money, or insurance?’ I was very matter of fact about it, I mean this was my circumstance and what to do? She arranged a birth control exam because the state would pay for that, by a doctor who would give me the post-partum. She also referred me to a support group. I had been alone but she found me people who understood and could sympathize and help me accept grief. I look back on that now; there were no sign-carrying Christians or Churches arranging the adoption who helped me, she was the only one who cared.
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 2:36 AM UTC
Before I moved to New Mexico
I never thought that I deserved to be in college
Because In California I got bad grades, skipped classes,
Didn’t care about my life and played the victim in high school
Now I’m pursing an Associates and a Bachelor’s Degree
In Liberal art, education and creative writing
I wasn’t sure if I had what it takes to lean on God’s faith
To complete my classes and do well
In that secondary education knowledge
I but I passed my summer with a B+
In my life I’m known to be late for everything I attend
Yeah I was always on that black people time
Waking up at 4:00 am to get ready, eat
And also catch the bus to a summer class
That starts at 8:30am and ends 12:50pm
Every Friday for 3 months was difficult
But I learned to make sacrifices and
I never missed a day of class
I had a bad habit of being a procrastinating excuse maker
But I was tired of wasting time,
I hated proving people right about me
I was tired of my family treating me
Like I was a burden on them
And having haters trying to destroy my spirit
So I could do what they want me to do
So I pushed passed the negativity and I never fell behind
I’d never had a scholarship before
But my first year in Central New Mexico Community College
I received 2 scholarships and I’m going for another one
My mentor used to tell repeatedly
That anything in life that’s worthwhile takes hard work
So try, when it doesn’t work try again and
When you feel like giving up, try even harder
Because a man has no excuses, rich or poor
Now I know 100% that anything is possible with God
And a lot of effort on my part
So I won’t ever quit, I’ll stay motivated and hungry till I have nothing left
Because I’d rather die trying my best than live with regrets.
By Shannon Pollard
©Summer 2012
Oct 10, 2012
Oct 10, 2012 at 8:19 PM UTC
She remembers the day the stick turned blue, “wow for **** up the spout”
He remembers her smile when she told him. Smile, really?
Then there was telling her parents, “okay we'll make this work”
Then there was telling his parents, “You threw your scholarship away for this ***** you're a dumb ***
She remembers the morning sickness
He remembers the hangovers
She felt warm inside when he said it was her choice
He felt like dying when she said she was keeping it
She framed the first ultra sound photo
He deleted his Myspace page
She noticed the day she started showing
The same day he noticed the legs on the waitress
She was snickered at behind locker doors
He quit the team
Her mom brought home baby shoes
His mom circled the classifieds
She got peanut butter cravings
He got hand gun cravings
It's a girl
It's a girl
She remembers finally talking again after four months
He remembers being cornered after 3rd period
She wanted to pick names
He wanted to hang up
She remembers their second first date
He remembers how nice she was
This could really work please kiss me goodnight
We'll see how this goes please don't kiss me
The doctors say the shadow on the ultra sound could be nothing
What if the thing on the picture is something
She prays for the health of Amelia
He begs God to do something about this
They have such a bright future ahead
He had such a bright future ahead
She goes to Goodwill for maternity clothes
He rings her up at the cash register with a kiss
She remembers buying baby clothes at the mall
He remembers how cute the onesies were
She sees him smile
Amelia...good name
She's due next week
He packs his cleats to make room for the crib
She packs to move into his house
His dad packs for a motel
She's still craving peanut butter
He's still craving the waitress
She ate peanut butter
He ate the waitress
She's in labour
He's in traffic
Hold my hand
Ouch...Okay breathe honey...ouch
There's no crying
Nice, quiet baby
Amelia's dead
I'm not a father
She cries into her shirt
He leaves the hospital
She cries into the onesies
He returns the crib to Wal Mart
She burns the ultra sound photos
He grabs his cleats
She gets a hair cut
He quits his job
She returns the diapers and shower gifts
His new Myspace says “single”
She shops for a prom dress
The waitress finds out he's seventeen
Her mom hugs her as she falls asleep
His dad pats him on the back after wind sprints
She can't stop starring at him during prom
He wonders if she went to prom
She writes Amelia in bubble letters on a piece of paper she hangs on her wall a reminder of what's important
He buys a Costco pack of condoms and tacks one to the wall a reminder of what's important
Jan 4, 2010
Jan 4, 2010 at 10:17 AM UTC
He entered our classroom
Quietly
Something in his hand
A slip of paper
Assigning him
to English 11b
English words
Thick in his mouth
He whispered his name,
Jaime Chavez
Jimmy Changa!
someone mocked,
Had one of them for supper
Nice to know you burrito boy.
Jaime Chavez smiled,
And remembered.
He entered our classroom
Quietly
Something in his hand
A book
Shakespeare
Carefully noted
In Spanish and English
Jimmy Changa
Someone mocked
Whatcha got there?
A book?
You don’t need them to cut my lawn.
Jaime Chavez smiled,
And remembered
He entered our classroom
Quietly
Something in his hand
An award
Superior achievement
English 11b
Jimmy Changa
Someone mocked
You didn’t earn that,
******* ****** ****
Jaime Chavez smiled
And remembered.
He entered our classroom
Quietly
Something in his hand
Full scholarship
Princeton University
In English Literature
And something else
A bumper sticker
"God Bless America,"
Which he carefully
tacked to the bulletin board
My name is not Jimmy Changa.
My name, is Jaime Chavez
And he smiled.
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 4:07 PM UTC
The envelope was red, white and blue just like the flag
Betsy Ross spent days with bleeding fingers over so many
years ago. It was addressed to me from an unknown sender.
I was giggly, jumpy. Who would write to me? I wasn’t important.
Just a seventh grade nobody stuck in a sparkly purple wheelchair.
Mom said I could join. She secretly wanted her outcast
of a daughter to have a sense of normalcy during her
last fading moments of childhood. I just wanted to have
fun. I wasn’t ready to accept that I was different. I knew
that I was. The stares told me so but I didn’t want to be.
The letter said that I could represent my fine country
as America’s National Teenager. Me? All I had to do was show
my ability by competing in a scholarship pageant. You know,
a beauty pageant except it wasn’t being called so because adults
are trying to be sensitive to teenager’s feelings because we’re
more likely to be sensitive, emotional and prone to disruptive
and potentially harmful outbursts. The perks of being a wallflower.
Teenagers, we know this. We’re also not stupid. I and every
other girl who would participate knew this pageant
was nothing more than a beauty pageant; a popularity
contest. That didn’t keep us from dreaming of becoming
rich and famous, stop the crying fits, hormones from raging
or acting like drama wasn’t our life’s goal and college major.
Four days in Southern Idaho and an eight-hour drive
to and from gave me plenty of time to practice my talent,
an essay. Even then, I knew I had no real physical attributes.
Instead, I shoved my fears aside and wrote, rewrote and polished
my essay on America until my parents, teachers, and friends
repeatedly had to tell me “that’s enough already. You’ll do great.”
I made friends, told stories, laughed until snot came out my nose
and answered the ever cautious “What happened to make you look
that way?” I had the time of my life. I knew I wasn’t going to win
because let’s face it, I’m not pretty enough. And just as predicted,
I left with “Most Inspirational” and cried ugly tears when I
didn’t come home as America’s National Teenager. Looking back,
I was a real American teenager. I don't need a pageant to tell me so.
Aug 9, 2010
Aug 9, 2010 at 9:15 PM UTC
If I crossed the street I would've been in the district with all the black kids
I begged my mom to take me there.
If I crossed the street I wouldn't have gotten IB
I wouldn't have gotten the prestige
That I thought everyone deserved
Saving me almost a year of college
And money like a scholarship.
If I crossed the street I wouldn't, as much, question my identity.
I wouldn't be single and question my beauty through white eyes
I would learn how to answer questions in class without feeling my white peers lying their eyes on me to see if the black girl could get it.
If I crossed the street I wouldn't be the only black girl in my classes.
If I crossed the street I wouldn't have to feel like MLK day was my job to announce according to my substitute teacher.
Because you know what week it is! Well of course you know girl.
If I crossed the street I would've been with my black brothers and sisters
Rather than trying to find my black experience in my white friends
But I didn't cross the street.
Maybe it took a bit longer to learn to love my black because of that.
But today I love myself
No matter what border I reach
And who disclaims or proclaims my authenticity.
I love my black self.
Maybe I wasn't supposed to cross the street
Jan 31, 2016
Jan 31, 2016 at 2:46 AM UTC
Your smile could light up a room
like the sun lights up the sky.
You left this world so suddenly no one
was ready to say goodbye.
When I heard you had died my heart grew cold.
It has been three months since you left this world behind,
but it feels like you were with me just yesterday.
Some days I still don't believe you really died.
I don't want to accept the fact that you are really gone.
I want to hear your voice one more time.
I want to walk beside you on the vibrant green turf
of the football field just talking about our futures.
If I could just hug you one last time
and feel the warmth radiating off your body.
To hear your soothing voice telling me
everything will be okay than maybe
I could except the fact that you are gone.
As for now I don't want to believe that it is true.
A part of me died alongside you that night,
that part of me I will never be able to get back.
Not a day will go by that I don't think of you
and wish I could hold you in my arms.
I cant watch a football game without thinking
AJ could have done that better.
I just want to say a formal goodbye to you.
You were taken from this world way to soon
and I don't understand why.
People may say I'm holding to much onto the past
but how could I leave the only memories of my best friend behind.
Even though you died young you still left behind a legacy.
You will be remembered for many years to come not only in
the hearts of family and friends but also in the actions
of many young football players that will get a chance
to pursue their dreams because of the scholarship
you have given them a chance to get.
Even though you may be gone in the flesh in my
heart is your memory and there you will always be.
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 6:02 PM UTC
REPUBLICANS
Former South Carolina GOP leader
kills dog to please God
Rob Beschizza
GERMANY
Germany's top domestic spy advised far right xenophobic political party on how to avoid being billed as "extremists"
Cory Doctorow
RUSSIA
Guy who pretends to ****** people for a living named Russian Goodwill ambassador
Seamus Bellamy
BUSINESS
We're going to be eating bugs really soon now, again
Cory Doctorow
POLICE
Surveillance camera shows off-duty NYPD cop dropping a weapon near man he shot in the face
Rob Beschizza
SCHOLARSHIP
When should the press pay attention to trolls, lies and disinformation?
Cory Doctoro
CORRUPTION
Wells Fargo: we stole houses and we're being investigated for ***** low-income housing credits
Cory Doctorow
LATE STAGE CAPITALISM
How Jpay gouges prisoners' families for "digital postage stamps"
Cory Doctorow
ALEX JONES
Alex Jones is suing the parents of a Sandy Hook victim for $100,000
Gina Loukareas
***
:(
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 3:46 PM UTC
Timmy Ray, poor boy from Kentucky.
Football scholarship.
Degree in Business Administration.
Respectable job, bored.
Enlists with best friend in Marines as a macho trip.
Vietnam, what a crock.
This ain’t football. And it ain’t fair.
Schemes to get out,
ignores an order to go out on patrol,
******** mission, but the friend goes,
gets shot up bad.
Timmy Ray runs out to help the friend, is shot.
It’s all blood and mud, man, blood and mud.
Friend paralyzed, Timmy Ray okay.
Court-martial for Timmy Ray, discharge.
The friend takes an overdose.
“No moral here,” Timmy Ray says. “My
war story. That’s all.”
Timmy Ray makes sculptures, big metal things.
No people.
“The human body’s been done,” he says.
Downtown Detroit in front of an office
he welds a pile of globes,
names it “Love” so he’ll get paid
but he says it’s really “Moose Brain.”
These days, Timmy Ray’s hand
trembles. He volunteers at a suicide
hot line. No moral there,
either. Moose brain.
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 12:23 PM UTC
The Race
An injury in sophomore year
caused me to miss the springtime meets.
I was sitting in a cast
while my teammates won their heats.
I am no brain, I can’t sit still
No chance I’ll ace the S.A.T.
But medal wins in track and field
could mean a scholarship for me.
Near Lewis is a cinder track-
an oval of a quarter mile.
So I come here to do my laps
And dream of victory for a while.
A short fat man goes jogging by
In sweat drenched shirt and navy shorts
Gasping, like a fish in air,
fleeing from his mortal thoughts.
I doff my sweats and start to stretch
I take no chances with this knee.
Soon I’m feeling good and loose,
it pays to warm up properly.
A tall thin runner, strangely pale,
About half of the track ahead
I‘ll pass him like he’s standing still
Then he’ll be chasing me instead.
I pass the jogger right away
The pale runner, though, moves speedily
I pick up my pace a notch
Just as quickly so does he..
I stretch my stride, he does the same
And gains upon me steadily
I thought that I was chasing him
It seems instead he’s chasing me.
I never raced this guy before
At any of the local meets
He appears to be as old as me
But his gear is “thrift shop” quality.
Sure enough, he’s gaining fast.
I dig down for a last reserve
I didn’t think I’d lost a step
Bad news, if it’s true, for me
I hear his foot falls close behind
And vainly try to stay ahead
I turn my head to see his face
It is the face of one long dead.
The ghostly winner makes a turn
and passes through the gate and chains
The cemetery lies beyond
That holds the urn with his cremains
“You saw him too” the fat man gasps-
“I thought that he had come for me”
I knew he only came to run
I recognized the ghost you see.
“Tommy Miller was his name
School Champion back in 63’
.He died crossing this finish line
an aneurysm in his brain.”
Unfinished business binds him here
A restless spirit, more than most,
The race is ever to the swift
The quick are beaten by a ghost
Dec 21, 2011
Dec 21, 2011 at 5:21 PM UTC
my aunt,
my beautiful aunt,
my hippie aunt.
the one who gave me a jar of sand and shells and whispered, "don't ever open it, or else the whole sea will spill out".
my aunt who smokes joints and offers it to the birds.
the one who sings on mountain tops, and tells me about her trips.
"i could hear my skin cells whisping past one another",
'parmel gantry they said, parmel gantry i echoed'.
the one who told me her whole existence is based on the fact that a furniture truck delivered a sofa to the wrong house.
my aunt who said when her daughter was young,
14 maybe, she would sneak off and see maryjane.
she said she was on her way to Woodstock,
but her brother, her brother was a cop in new york,
and he 'kidnapped' her,
told her "no, the closest you'll get to those ***** hippies is through this television in the attic."
"but he made me dinner every night, it was wonderful" she said,
"i hadn't seen him in years, we really bonded."
"i had a scholarship to upenn, he didn't want me to lose it"
but she dropped out one week in and moved to oregon.
she married on a commune, and her housemates threw rose petals on the only bed there.
and when that was over, she married another by the same name.
and i've never seen someone laugh so much.
i've never seen someone so happy, so genuinely happy.
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 4:57 AM UTC
I believe most Americans are appalled at the wanton gun violence in America today.
Surely the ****** of young children is revolting to almost everyone and begs for some action.
But what can we DO about it? I mean REALLY.. really.
Republicans want to arm themselves more, while democrats use these events to ******* to gun control fantasies that either cannot pass as law or will be struck down by the courts.
I’d like to propose a real, actionable solution.
We would announce this plan in every high school in America, propagate the offer in every morning announcement until further notice:
Any young man (or woman, let's not be sexist here) who, in their heart of hearts feels sufficiently motivated (kill-crazed) would immediately be sent to Ukraine where they could **** real Russians to their heart’s content.
They would only be trained if they wanted it, only be part of an organized unit if they desired it, they would be armed on arrival or they could bring their own initial arsenal if they had it at hand.
Once they achieved 200 certified Russian kills (this number is negotiable) they would be declared heroes and could either continue their good work or receive some sort of scholarship or cash.
This is just one, practical idea - you, my reader, are free to propose others.
This is not a joke, not sarcasm, irony or parody - let’s actually DO something, shall we?
May 28, 2022
May 28, 2022 at 10:13 AM UTC
She was wheeled into the maternity ward
With pains minutes apart.
The doctors knew that they would have to start.
An hour later she gave birth to twin boys
You could see in her face she was full of joy.
She had complications that the doctors did not see
And she began hemorrhaging , she started screaming
I don’t care what happens to me , but please
Take care of my babies.
She died that very day, and the twins
Had no family with which to stay.
They became wards of the county, and up for adoption
They would go, but adoption moves very slow.
The doctors found that they had dwarfism syndrome.
Which did not allow them to grow
Which was something the mother did not know.
Growing up with the other children, they was teased
And laughed at because of their size
And that made them open their minds.
They knew that if they wanted to accomplish
Something in their life, and not have anyone ridicule them
They would have to find a friend.
Someone that they could confide in and tell their troubles to.
So this is what they set out to do.
There was a woman there who taught them the true meaning
Of the word HOPE, and with that they learned to cope.
She always instilled in their minds, that they could
Be as big As their dreams, for with HOPE
Anything Can be achieved.
To reach their goal there would not be any hesitation.
For HOPE was fueling their determination.
They received a scholarship to the college of
Business administration. They were filled with joy and exhilaration
Being dwarfs they had a lot of adjustments to be made
But they were strong, they were not afraid.
They both got jobs in an accounting firm
And doing this they did learn, they learned how
To run a business starting from scratch
And there was no turning back.
Now as the business started to grow, they took
Care of the woman that they did know.
For she had became a mother to them
They considered her more than a friend.
She was getting up in her years, and her death brought them tears.
But they always remembered her words
That with HOPE anything can be achieved
And you had to follow your dreams.
They are now nationwide and her spirit is by their side.
And in the office you will see a sign above their desk.
HOPE IS THE KEY TO SET OURSELVES FREE
(dwarfism- is a growth hormone deficiency)
Also known in the u.s. as the little people
Jul 30, 2010
Jul 30, 2010 at 2:08 PM UTC
Shes grown up in a world where your name is everything. So she played everything, & gave it her everything. When that money came in she saved everything for college not knowing she would get a scholarship. But she is smart, smart as if she is but a descendant of Einstein, And I look up to her cause im short and compared to me she is sky high but she is 6,3 and beautiful a goddess *3 to me. She plays ball like her daddys twin was scotty pippen and he tolder put her hands on the ball and boom they traded powers like mike.. like mike and when i would tell her ik someone who plays better she would tell me im trippin. Cause she never missed a practice she only wanted to get greater. And when she dunked for the first time ever she went home on some macklemore **** like "i touched the net mom i touched the net" it was the best day of her life. And shes been running all her life from miles to around the basketball court. God **** now the army what else do you want to accomplish. What are you running from young girl them legs... them legs all them **** legs big girl dont stop now dont give up brown eyes.cause In this world ill be jenny and your forest gump run run forrest run.
May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 2:22 PM UTC
Tensions build,
Issues turn to tissues,
and you fold into your fears.
The calls turns to cries,
you were so happy
The downward scrawl of your note,
paralleling the downward spiral of
your life.
so full of potential
In physics class we learned to calculate the force of tension for a rope weighed down by a mass.
I got a 96% and a full scholarship to our dream school.
Working towards my PhD.
My thesis you ask?
"Predicting the force of tension for a rope weighed down by a mass."
But sadly
you just
can't
stop
gravity.
Apr 28, 2013
Apr 28, 2013 at 7:01 PM UTC
_Amy Louise Jackson_ is a British actress
& model known for her work in Indian films.
She played the role of _Imra Ardeen-Saturn Girl_
on the third season of the CW's superhero series
_Supergirl_. She began her modeling career
at the age of 16, and went on to win the 2009
_Miss Teen World_ competition after winning
the _Miss Teen Liverpool_ & _Miss Teen Great Britain_
pageants. Amy won the title of _Miss Teen World_
in 2009. She won eighteen prizes, including
a modelling contract in the US on a $50,000
scholarship. Soon after, she won _Miss Liverpool_
in 2010. She competed for _Miss England_ in 2010
& crowned the runner-up to Jessica Linley.
Subsequently, director A. L. Vijay cast her
as the _leading lady_ of the Tamil language
period-drama Madrasapattinam in 2010. Jackson
continues to act in Indian films of all languages,
including Tamil, Hindi, Telugu, and Kannada
Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 4:59 AM UTC
He might be going to another school
**** him, **** the school with an actual application,
He's smarter than me, for sure.
But can't we be together forever?
If I'm going to a good university on a scholarship,
Instead of a ****** cheap college, I'm going to need good grades
Where the **** am I going to get those?
My parents can't afford school funds
They spend ten grand on renovations
But now they don't have anything for our educations
Wow, thanks Mom.
I rubbed globs of Vix into the bridge of my nose this morning
It burns a bit, makes my eyes water
But it feels good
Am I suicidal because of that?
I don't think so, I don't ever want to die
I don't like pain, either, which rules out a lot of suicide methods
Unless you think Vix is super painful. I don't.
But I'm fat, stupid and ******
And if I got a %50 on a math test
The girls in my class talk about it behind my back
And laugh, even wondering
"How did she even get into eighth grade?"
My best friend told me about that, which I'm grateful for,
But I forgot to ask if she'd stood up for me.
I bet she didn't, she probably laughed with them
Because she's got a nice, cozy spot in the Populars.
Who wants to risk that?
I want to find my portable CD player
It's been missing for months,
but I'll just borrow my sisters and go for a walk.
I'll need to put on a shirt first.
Oct 23, 2011
Oct 23, 2011 at 2:16 PM UTC