I remember crying during lunch my senior year of high school
My math teacher’s eyebrows colliding turning one plane into a fractal image
He had sat there every day for nearly four years
Helping me struggle through an unreal number of numbers
Literaly and figuratively
And again and again the numbers on my math test said
You are less than average
You
Are
Stupid.

But behind the eyes of a determined math teacher
Never read, what my insecurities where screaming
Refusing to believe the numbers, I sought one thing
Some unspoken meaning
I almost found it the day of my graduation
I almost found it between my teacher’s eyebrows
Wearing it like a point of pride
I was the first of my family to hold
Such a light thing as a diploma
Instead of a heavy head
Weighed down by ******
It nodding under all the pressure
The first to feel the lightness of feather
Instead of a sixpack
A lame back, from manual labor
I was flying
College was my next undefeated feat
Again I let an institution tell me what I was
Test scores tell me what I should meet
Intelligent measured by something
That couldn’t understand its diversity
Trying to tell me I was less than average
When I was just an individual
Above a point of comparison
Excelling in conceptual understanding
Debating and good energy

I could construct social interaction
Like gold, I learn to read people
The power in my phone
I learned that it wasn’t the diploma that I should be proud of
Not the thing I sought after
Not what I would show my little sisters and brothers
To show them how to live better, how to be stronger
Burn brighter. Burn longer.
So here I am
Red faced and scared
spoken word
was hiding, but always there
in between my math teachers scrunched brow
Was the answer
I could have cheated if I had known how
If I knew what question that needed answered
Had realized it was never in his book
I should have listened to what I saw
Not to the math test I took
I
Am
Not
Stupid
I haven’t failed by choosing something outside of school
That I am not defined by the score
By numbers or lines
By this institutional rules
Test scores or even rhymes
I am not less than average
I just don’t average out
That power isn’t really in a piece of paper
Power is found in your words
And chosen behavior
That silence and insecurity
Means nothing really
The answer wasn’t in his book
It was in his look
And his persistence to prove
I
Am
Not
Stupid
He just wasn’t good enough with words to prove it.

Hey there, I'm Joe Sixpack,
an American full of pride.
I don't want no welfare state,
I don't want no free ride.

And I don't want no charity
'cause freedom don't come free.
I just got four priorities,
they're ME, ME, ME and ME!

I just can't stand the government.
Tax, I don't wanna pay.
Don't want no lazy welfare bums
to **** it all away.

Don't want no ******* FEMA
after flood or hurricane.
Don't want no public healthcare
to fix someone else's pain.

But if my house blows over
or if I get unemployed,
and I don't got insurance
and my health's getting destroyed...

Well, then you'll see me change my tune
and I'll be first in line.
Sayin' "I deserve a handout",
"Oh poor ME" I'll ***** and whine.

The bottles were scattred monuments to beaten livers and bad decisions.
I awoke like any other morning okay afternoon hungover and to void of ***** to deal with
hampsters or flying monkeys .

The agony was what I was used to but the ringing in my head was altogather a diffrent matter.
it grew louder that constant annoying ring and to my suprize much like the voices in my head after my
usal sixpack and half pint of Wild Turkey it was still there.

It rang and rang and caused such a clatter I had to finally get up off my **** and see what the **** was the matter.
I opened the door to the pub to be met by a bright light jesus christ it was the rapture or one of thoose other
big hippie rock festivals dam you  lalapalooza!

But it was just then I remebred to put on my sunglasses.
That huge annoying lightbulb was a cruel ***** indeed.
Now in the realm of what most called the outdoors the noise was clear and to my suprize it was some
strangley dressed ****** slash recruiter for the Forein Legion or Salvation Army really whats the diffrence
ya see one fashion cult ya seen em all ohh snap!


The woman kept ringing the bell as if in some weird trance and like some strange witch she stood by a kettle
dear Lord! what if she was putting a curse on us all.

Hello sir care to make a donation?
It seems I could pay to keep the witch at bay why hadnt i thought of this scheme myself.
In a slurred voice i spoke to the witch in her native tongue most people call it english.
For ?
I said in a naughty school girl way inwhich a ***** ses to the teacher when she wants good grades
or a ride home with a happy ending.

It's to help the needy on Christmas.  
It seesm the pagan was raising funds for one of her bizzar rituals.
being the reporter with the heart of gold and not grain of sense I asked her to speak of this
strange custom.

It seems as though her good had had one to many and made another little hampster
so far this God sounded like someone I could enjoy a drink with.
Then he called on his homeboys to vist the little dude and give him some totally useless
gifts hope they kept the reciets cause ***** that crap give me a gallon of Turkey and a Xbox

She rambled on with her fairy tale and how now people seem to all give things to one another
On this strange holiday .
Boy like that will ever catch on sister .

She jingled her bell as i jumped and screamed like a little girl a very manly little girl may i add
dear lord woman !
That noise you may use your magic to scare other's into paying you but when I pay
a woman it usally ends in *** okay almost always.

She looked at me deepley she must have been undersing me with her eyes i felt so ***** in the right kinda way.
But enough with the foreplay children.
Are you insane?

The witch asked in a angry voice her grip on her bell tighten she spoke again.
get outta here  you ******.
Yeah i know she was totally into me.

Witch I know you've cast a spell on me so why toil with your silly made up holiday scheme.
Of all the pubs you could have decided to hook in front of you picked the home of
Hello's favorite guilty pleasure .
I say we cut through this silly spell  **** and go into the bar and i give you the most forgetable experience of your life.
Hey as long as im happy thats all that counts kids.

She paused caught deep in the moment then asked whats Hello?
Oh that was a site that used to be really fun and now really isnt.
She paused yet again pulling in her magic purse often used by witches
and candy **** singers like Justin Bieber!

She pulled from it some magic spray that blinded me.
the pain was terrible i herd her blow a whistle  lucky whistle.
Calling her warlocks who I feared were powerful and *****.

Soon I  found myself locked in a dungeon with other strange people all under spells.
there was a man dressed as a pagan God calling himself Santa
Seems he liked to play with his candy cane in public.
Yeah who doesnt?

The days passed and i was put through a horrible torture worse than having
to watch the O network or listening to Justin Beiber that musiacal ****.
I went days without  my ***** i was put into a strange state called sober.

Finally the curse was lifted as the guard showed me out he informed me
it was cause it was Christmas .
Dear lord !
The witch had  cast her spell over the world.

So as I sit in the confines of my Pub whiskey flowing like water.
I've learned beware of this bell ringing witch and her tales of strange Gods
and give or fall victem to her charms as did I.

Untill next time stay crazy hampsters.

Norwegian summer night.
She opens her guest room window and
Balcony door to

Give the scent of warm pine and
Sunstroked willow a free tour of her
Apartment on a welcome breeze.

I mute the TV, as she enters her bedroom  
Leaving me shirtless in shorts on her
Sofa, headphones nearly plugged into

My laptop when she requests a tuck-in,
Knowing that granting me the remains of
Her Saturday night sixpack means

She's going to bed alone.
I kiss her forehead goodnight. She steals
A bonus hug, wanting it to

Last until morning though it's
Futile. I bury my face in warm, soft
Neck. She

Releases hesitantly. Smiles.
She has bed. I have Johnny Cash and Chet
Baker, Alan Watts and Allen Ginsberg,

Beer, time, and a window of solitude.
"Silent" and "listen" are spelled with
The same letters.

My impairment is that I am a man.
I love her. And the aloneness that
A man can only obtain when

Even the loneliness has left him.
I can't feel my feet, unless she does what
She has learned to do;

Give me space. Space with the texture,
Colour and pattern of the
Blanket one tucks

Around
The legs of someone
In a wheelchair, gesturing by it:

*I love your
Every single
Circle.

Ah, sweet solitude!
How welcome you are!
The kids are away,
(but not too far).

The girlfriend's out,
enjoying her own.
No friends who visit,
a moment alone!

Work is finished,
Chores are done.
A sixpack of beer!
I think I'll have one..

No thinking to do,
some rest for the mind.
Shall I cook a steak?
(to go with some wine?)

I can read a book,
I know just the one!
Or lay on the porch,
with my feet in the sun.

Can I go see a movie?
All by my self?
Or feast on the cookies,
up on the top shelf!

So much to enjoy,
With a moment alone.
But what's that I hear??

"Honey, we're home!"

She always loved the ocean .
And often she drug him along although he hated the the sand .

Frank was never much of a beach person but it was beautiful with her always .

"Why won't you marry me "?

She asked as they sat together upon the shore.

"Come on Beth didn't you get enough ******* form your last marriage "?

"He was a ******* but your the one I was supposed to marry I made a mistake ".

"So now your looking to make another "

Frank replied laughing .

Beth was not amused .

She was always in love with him and Frank knew full well he was not with her .

She was fun in small doses .
She was great in bed but eventually you had to be able to communicate .

Beth was the sort that never stopped talking and seldom had a **** thing to truly say.

Susan always plagued his thoughts .

Because she although a ***** was the one he could not forget.

There was something in the  silence  they shared .
She was gone and so was it .

And now he simply drank to forget and wrote **** to fill the space and grab publication.

"You know I love you so what's the deal dude"?

" Look sweetheart it's never going to happen so maybe its best we not continue to do this anymore ".

And with that it was over .

Beth cursed him out and stomped off .

He watched her as she vanished over the dunes and faded from his life .

She would be far from the last to say goodbye .

He grabbed the last beer from the sixpack.

Listened to the waves crash into the shore .

It was empty peaceful and perfect in everyway.


Then Frank thought to himself .
He hadn't taken his car .

And he had left his phone on the dash of Beth's.

As he walked over the dunes he viewed the parking lot and as he figured Beth was nowhere to be found .

He viewed the little shops all were closed except for a little bar called the Riptide .

He laughed to himself .

For he may be stranded but least he was far from alone .

Any port in a storm beats standing outside in the rain .

The place was packed but it served cocktails .
Least he wouldn't die from lack of thirst .

And maybe a beachcombers existence would suit him for awhile .

Beth would find another much like Frank would always land on his often unbalanced and drunken feet  .

He had a lot of practice .
The night had only just begun.

My foreign exotic Romania dispatch,
Daytona the   horses inside of my gym bag
Like how my heart will abide under sixpack
My......
Fantasies forgot how speak.
Kissing the rim never made me so weak
After day dreaming you ran off my feet
You told me your age
As you smiled with a wink
Lifted your shirt as I swim to discreet
Wait ...
How old did he say he was....