This tough time we are going through now
it's a fight.
but this fight
is mostly for others
more than for ourselves.

The serious teammate we have?
She's probably fighting for the passion she has
fighting for her other teammate,
who has one of the biggest dream ever.

That dream that I admire the most
because at least she has a clue
what she wants in her life.

I admire her
there's so many times when she said that
her dream was crushed
but she worked hard towards it anyways.
(because guess what, her dream will come true some day)

The last teammate
She's probably fighting for her lost hours
for her revision
and maybe
fighting for her club.
Maybe she's fighting to prove that she isn't always a
failure

I don't know what they are fighting for,
and I don't think I ever will know.

And there's me
I think

I know what I'm fighting for.

For my teammate's passion
and my second teammate's dream
and my last teammate's will to never give up.

To prove that
this week
of annoyance
frustration
stress
is all worth it.


and
For the invaluable friends we have
crossed path with.

I met Lori at a beer pong table. She was tall. A trash talker. Beach blonde hair. Eyes blue, blue as the sky on an afternoon in July, when the weather was cool from a light rain. This was post-college—a house party, for young adults who wanted more from life than the typical 9-5. She wasn’t from NOVA. She was from Weston, FL. Her teammate was a guy she was with at the time—they ended up breaking it off and for a while she was dating Cam, a pro-bass fisher, a long distance relationship, but they loved each other. But at the table, I was competing with her teammate, later on I ended up mentally competing with Cam, which didn’t do any good except to make me chain-smoke jacks and drink bourbon. I had a girlfriend at the time—let’s just call her Voldy. My teammate was Lori’s best friend Erica. This girl had swagger; played beer pong like Dr. J, always got us roll backs. I was tall as **** for a Vietnamese American—still am tall as **** for a Vietnamese American (Don’t worry my guys, my family’s from the Southside)—and in college we had built a beer pong table, at a spot called the pink house. “We,” meaning my roommates and I: CJ, Trevor, and Samuel. The U.N. I had practiced daily, playing before class, playing after class. Height made a difference; some great basketball player once said you need to have game on and off the court. I wasn’t sure what court I was on when I was in that moment. Lori was more than appearance; more body language; more eye contact; more southern twang; and more astuteness, than a TED Talk combined with NPR, combined with The New Yorker, combined with Al-Jazeera and linked with Wikipedia on a ***** binge. I could talk all day about how she looked, how she dressed. But I told you what you need to know. She shot first, her right arm shaped like a swan, the type of swan that sits on a lake in the middle of a spring morning, the type of morning when the sky is blue with the eyes of a girl who has seen too much, been through too much, and has heard too much. She sank the shot. Her teammate roared. But all I could hear was Lori’s voice; soft as the piano notes played by Sakamoto’s right hand, loud as the piano notes played by Sakamoto’s left hand. Blu was not how I was feeling. Or maybe I was.
Because at this table I had to either take a loss,
or seal a win. I didn’t know what I wanted. But I wanted her. Wanted her, like how you wanted a postcard
from Santa when you were 5 years old, and it was opposite day. So you got the address wrong,
and the letter was never received. And your parents told
you to keep trying so you did, you did, and you did,
but you were young and naïve. You didn’t know
what was real and what was not real. And now I was
at a place in time, when the setting didn’t matter,
and the alcohol didn’t matter, and the drugs didn’t matter.
All that mattered was her.
Because when I shot that orange ping-pong ball,
I kept eye-contact with her eyes.
Blue, much more blue
than the water in the red solo cups we were playing with.
I wish it were water from the beaches in Florida,
beaches I could read a Salinger story on,
beaches I could rest on
beaches I could lay on,
lay and take in the sun
that rises above my soul
that aches for something more.
But Lori wasn’t Brett Ashley,
she was more Daisy Buchanan
than anything.
But does that make me Tom or Jay?
Jimmy or Nick?
I didn’t know and I still don’t know.
What I do know, is this;
the ball sank into the
first cup of the triangle.
Lori’s face went from cocky,
to frustrated, from frustrated
to relaxed,
from that
to a smile.
One that I remember, and one,
I won’t forget.
Because all I want to do is forget,
Take my memory and squeeze
the bad **** out,
twist the living **** out of it,
and burn it with a match.
Because she thinks I’m the one,
Who did her wrong, but it wasn’t me.
I put that on my integrity, even if my words don’t mean much to your ears: please listen.
I was inebriated, 3/4ths of the time we chilled.
So I didn’t know what was false and what was real.
You can check my temperature,
Because when you’re in my thoughts I get a fever
And hey, I shouldn’t have made a pass on your roomie
I should have thought before I texted, because now your trust in me has been affected.
We’re not talking. I can keep apologizing for what happened, but you don’t want to listen to a broken record.
I wish the bad memories would pass away and I guess they’re all in the past today.
Look, I don’t have a time machine
strong enough to change all the mistakes that I’ve made.
But take this as a time capsule,
this piece that I’m sharing. Like that piece we were sharing. The one that belonged to you.
The one I wish I could kiss again,
Because your lips touched it,
And mine never touched yours.

Hockey is fun to watch
Hockey is fun to play
Shoot the puck in the clutch
Bat the cold pucks away

Skate down the smooth white ice
Pass to a  free teammate
Time together is nice
Don't shoot the puck too late

Fans like to view hockey
Who is the best player?
Kids like Sidney Crosby
He's a goalie slayer

Too many things we are afraid to want
too much of ourselves drifts by feeling no love
too many cooks may spoil the soup
but one hire may have only one trick
what will you do when the order changes?

while you are young explore your trades
a fashionista, a driver, go wild in the circus
he/she won't came and make you have fun
he will come and explore it with you

Moving my glass in a circle, listening to the ice and cup collision.
As I go on and on and on, the ice melts, as does my vision.
But I'm alone, my most frequently taken decision.
Followed by correcting my morning away in revisions.

I'm caught in my hammock, tangled like a fish in the netting.
Watching my hand pick up that bottle in this repetitive setting.
And wonder of your pulse, and if it's been forgetting
Those moments, that at this point, seem to be getting
To be all that I am.

Forgetting Sundays.
Or the stars with salt and butter, to feel better.

By forgetting the corner shelf, each handwritten letter,
Forgetting long drives, how making a bed with two people is best.
Being car sick. A beer to pitch up the tent.
Gazing up at the redwoods.
A single tear rolls, a fire burns as tall as we stood.
Tied together on that forest floor.
Tighter than the knots before.

It means,
Forgetting the inner dialogue of those people walking down the block.
It's never getting the hang of how that door unlocked.
Forgetting a **** good teammate for cracking word games.
Forgetting that medicine bag that was actually lame.
Or that plate under the bathroom sink with old dried up paint.

Visiting a farm, the salsa, debating on the shirts.
Deciding who really wanted to sneak into the abandoned house first.
Someone sitting at a bar, typing the night away.
Live music, completely failing at spoken word that one day.
Waking up as two kittens. For hours to play.

It means,
Forgetting the harmonica, and songs that lived inside it.
Reaching dead ends with GPS, so we had to guide it.
Laughing for hours on a porch, smoke winding around our fingers.
Mimosas, a most satisfying breakfast smell still lingers
Answering a phone as if faintly afraid.
Remembered the songs I heard; the exact time and the day.
Leaving notes around to be discovered and sweet.
Shaking hands with the world, all those random people we'd meet.
We never went to the BBQ at the corner car wash.
Always owed the store next door a dollar.
How I would sit on that chest as you walked back and forth, deciding what to wear.
Smoking out the window.
Finding socks everywhere.

It means,
Forgetting the run to the bart station after bar hopping quests
--Those in hopes you'll say yes to that one invitational request.
Always on missions to go see and eat things we hadn't before.
Driving to that one restaurant where kids worked the floor.
And there were no prices for the plates.
Staying up late.
Forgetting how the white people dance and we laughed.
This is how you dry two sweaty hands.
Promising all the adventures we planned.
The day you tried to get me to drink the green goo. Ew.
I still drank that whole glass for you.
Helping you even out the dirt in that backyard with a slab of wood and a string.
Those songs off Pandora I attempted to sing.
A Red Bull accompanied by other snacks in a bag.
Picking you up there, and later setting one of my pillows on fire.
I packed everything but that **** set of plates.
I laughed at your knee socks, BART running late.


It means, all these things that might ring a bell;
If you can forget them, you forget me as well.

vii..xii

He was never my classmate,
Neither was he my schoolmate,
As we have met on OkCupid,
Which is where we got suited.

He soon became my tablemate,
Then got promoted to bedmate,
Ranging from late-night nosh
To some naughty oh-my-gosh.

He was my almost-roommate,
Now, a hopeful housemate,
Since he would visit me daily
And keep me company gaily.

He was frequently my seatmate,
As well as invaluable playmate,
For we traveled places together
And cloyingly wrestled each other.

He has always been my helpmate,
And is presently my best teammate,
As he has cheered me up from afar,
As we chat as if there is no au revoir.

He will one day become my inmate,
Plus my hard-working workmate,
Since we will both have mini-me’s
Forcing us to slog away on our knees.

He is undoubtedly my soulmate,
One who is to become my lifemate,
For he is a romantic yet **** geek,
A keeper with charms all too unique.

When you don't want to say it in words, let your actions do the talking. And we're talking about celebrities' relationships here. It seems that the words 'we are just good friends' is also passe. Nowadays, even a selfie with your lovely other half says it all. So, while the media can hound the actors everywhere they go for that one quote to admit to their relationship, the B-Town folks choose to do it in their own style. Most commonly, they walk hand-firmly-in-hand to events, parties and premieres — pretty much confirming their 'couple' status. Recently, Salman Khanmade a grand entry at Preity Zinta-Gene Goodenough's wedding party with Romanian model/actress Iulia Vantur and everyone went into a frenzy. They didn't walk in hand-in-hand, but well, that day doesn't seem too far away. Though at a recent event, when asked about his marriage plans, Salman siad, "It's between me and my fans." Iulia too shared on her phto-sharing profile that she's "in no hurry to wear her wedding dress." Here is taking a look at other celebrities who walked the red carpet together, and soon after walked down the aisle.

Despite the strong buzz about a relationship brewing between Bipasha Basu and Karan Singh Grover during the shoot of 'Alone', both actors kept mum about the reports. It was only when Karan was promoting his second film that he conceded that Bipasha 'is special and very dear' to him. Every time the media questioned them, the two actors consistently kept quiet about their relationship. At the same time, they never shied away from posting pictures of them, while going on their holidays.

Even when reports of their wedding plans made news, the couple at first denied them but soon confessed that April 29 was indeed the day on which they were tying the knot.

Yuvraj Singh and Hazel Keech

Indian cricketer Yuvraj Singh annouced at teammate Harbhajan Singh's wedding with Geeta Basra last October that Hazel Keech was the woman he'll spend the rest of his life with. A month later, when they went holidaying in Bali, he popped the question with a ring and she accepted. The two are said to be tying the knot later this year.

Kareena Kapoor Khan and Saif Ali Khan

While the public may not remember 'Tashan' best known for Kareena Kapoor Khan's size zero figure, she and Saif Ali Khan would never like to forget this film. It was during the Greece schedule of this film that the two fell in love. Though reports of their affair made news, they remained non-committal to the media. Until they walked the ramp together for her friend designer Manish Malhotra at a fashion event in 2007. That was the first time Saif told the media that they were a couple. Later, he even got her name inked on his left arm. The tied-the-knot on October 16, 2012.

Maanayata and Sanjay Dutt

Married twice before, Sanjay Dutt made known that Maanayata was the woman of his life when he walked in with her at an awards function in January 2007. A few days later, on January 11, 2007, he told a tabloid that he and Maanayata had a secret wedding at his house on November 19, 2006. However, after the news spread like wildfire, he went in denial mode. Their registered marriage in Goa on February 7 a year later became the subject of controversy, as they weren't residents of the state. A couple of days later, they solemnised their marriage vows as per Hindu rites.

Virat Kohli and Anushka Sharma

When the reports of Anushka Sharma and Indian cricketer Virat Kohli being a couple appeared, the two went in overdrive denying the news through their spokespersons. It was Virat who first revealed the relationship when he tweeted after watching her film, "Just watched #NH10 and I am blown away. What a brilliant film and specially an outstanding performance by my love @AnushkaSharma. SO PROUD:)" Even as they continued going steady, they didn't concede their relationship to the media until they walked in haathon-mein-haath at a fashion event July 2015.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-brisbane

Soccer season arrives, you’re excited until you start waking up at 6:30 a.m. every day during the summer. As the first game is on, you arrive expecting to play just to realize you’re warming up the bench. It’s not a big deal, it’s still August and it’s easier to tan while sitting down. It isn’t until you’re laying there camouflaging between the soccer bags; laying like a lizard taking the sun in that your coach yells for you to jump in. You scramble up and trip between bags and *****, making your way to the sideline. You do the final stretches and make your way in awkwardly lifting your hand to high-five your teammate coming out who misses it completely. Then it’s game on, it is time to start playing. But that is not how it goes. 15 minutes into the game you realize you have roamed the same 15 square foot area all this time. I got the ball once, I controlled it on my feet. Yeah, I know. Unfortunately when I turned the ball found it’s way between my legs and fell into the opposite player. ******. I’m getting a good tan though; I think I was supposed to get that pass, I slowly jog towards it. Should I? Well now the ball is gone. Let’s go back to my 15 square foot area; my legs are tired. I see the ball coming from up in the air, I’ve never done this. I’m running, just keep running. No, that’s the sun not the ball. There’s the ball, jump, jump. jump. I jump and a 200 pound guy crashes with me, I’m on the floor. Done.

The glistening sun sets,
leaving a silhouette of hanging trees,
a decoration on pink faded walls.
Humming cicadas and chirping crickets,
play in a symphony of the night.
Bike rides and park games in darkness,
softball games in the bright field lights.
Each crack of the ball and bat create a chaos of teammate screams.
Lost every game, but won each time.
A refreshing water runs on slippery rocks,
swimming among fish and ducks,
Soaking bodies run home,
Baggy shirts, gym shorts,
Adults and children mix in a weekly party,
Beer bottle caps and soda cans clink to the ground.
Love and laughter surrounds a crackling open fire,
Warming bodies and hearts.
Little feet race to where the sidewalk ends,
the grass grows thick.
It is here where teams are picked and knees are scarred.
12am games are played,
cans are kicked, ghosts roam graveyards, and flags are captured.
Waiting to go home, hours and hours of waiting
Hours of talking of all different ages,
Country music and guitar melodies play throughout the street,
a lullaby of our childhood.
Television reruns at 2am entertain tired minds,
Couch and floor beds of blanket forts,
Carried up to bed to sleep in comfort at 4am, the chirping birds, already wishing a good morning to most, but goodnight to this home.
The raccoons rattle and the woodpeckers poke in a serenade to sleep,
In a neighborhood of blaring nights and silent mornings.
Each week, the time flew by.

Brian was the perfect teammate.  We were team parents and out numbered 3-2.  But he was a strong enough player to hold a level playing field.  When bases were loaded, he was the catcher and tagged our children before they could score a run.  His commitment to our team made us strong and we did the best that we could to hold them on base during the teenage years.  But their team was stacked.  Three heavy hitters ready to stand up to the championship team…  Wow!  What an amazing game we all played together.  And I had an outstanding coach.

            But one day, one of their player’s was injured and could no longer play the game.  It was a sad day, the day we realized that we were one team and that one of our star players would not be there to help bring our team back to victory!  We suffered a few bases, but even though we did, we still came out winners….

Krystalyn married the man of her dreams.  She brought 2 new players to the game, Joel and Zoey.  3 runs there.  Sean has gotten sober and is in school to be an oral assistant.  Score 3 more.  I have moved on to be G-Ma and the proudest parent I can be… I scored 3.  Brian fell in love, remarried and shared our family victories.  4 more runs.

            What an awesome team.  We are sad that Brian was injured and cannot play anymore. We will miss our coach. .  But, we are happy he and Jay are together now in the bleachers and keeping score.  We are still winning…. 13-0.

Friday April 10


Walking in Limbo

a man finds himself alone
in a dark forest
filled with strange trees
and hears voices
in the wind

he walks forward
towards a light
in the forest

and soon finds himself
confronted by a ghostly image
the dead are all around
and he realizes
that he has died

and he is wandering
in limbo
he walks towards the light

and sees a man
at a desk
who asks his name

he says his name
and the man
smiles and tells him
welcome to limbo

join the others
to wait your turn
for judgement is due

and the man
walks back
through the haunted forest

trying to remember how he died
but he has no memory
of his past life

and is doomed
to wander in limbo
stuck between time
and worlds

comforted by the ghosts
around him
and the light
in the forest

writers digest prompt to write an ekphrastic  Poem




New Bodies in New Era

we are living
in a SF world
things are changing
at breath taking speeds

nowhere more
than with the coming biomedical revolution
soon we will be confronted
with the reality

that we can live forever
in new bodies
grown for us
in laboratories

with our memories intact
and I can hardly wait
want to throw off
this aging 65-year old body

and get a new 20-old perfect body
boy, I can’t wait

I would be come
what I always wanted to be

6 foot 6 inches tall
perfect athletic basketball body

perfect visions
perfect hearing
perfect smelling
perfect teeth



well behave hair
no more learning disability
no more coordination problems

no more fibromyalgia
no more arthritis either
no more aching aging pain
no more mental fog

god,
I can hardly wait
hope it happens
before I die

and I hope
I can live
on forever
with my wife

also transformed
into a perfect
**** as hell
new body

poetry soup prompt to write a poem about changes

life interrupted by corona


we live in a strange world
life interrupted by corona
the virus spread throughout the world
disrupting everything

putting life on hold
as more people
hunkered down
waiting for the virus

to pass over us
like in biblical times
the virus
will test us all

life interrupted
on hold
until the virus
spreads through the world

and then
we will all
go back
to life interrupted

writing.com Daily Dew Drop interruption


Saudade for friends I have lost

as I get older
I lose more people
every year

more people I knew
have died moving on
and I mourn their lost friendship

wished I had been
a better friend for them
and knew them better

and with the corona virus
spreading around the world
I will lose so many more

in the coming year
as the virus spreads
its malignancy far and wide

I lost my father due to cancer in 1985
and my sister
due to a freak illness in 2007

and my mother
due to Alzheimer’s in 2005
and my father-in-law as well in 2007

Demel Tucker
high school debate teammate
dead of *** in 1995

Julian Bartley and his son
died in a terrorist bombing
in Nairobi in 1998

Jon Weber college roommate
dead due to prostate cancer
in 2000

Paul Simon  friend from the visa line
dropped dead of a heart attack
in 2004

Ted Halstead
one of my best bosses
died of heart attack in 2007

Chris Richard
one of my former bosses
from my days in Bangkok

dropped dead of a heart attack
shortly before we were due
to have lunch in 2014


and so many others
I have lost
along the way

and soon there will be
so many more
as I get old in the corona era




my lover’s body inspires me

my lover
Lover’s face
inspires me

Filled ****
as hell
still got it

drives me
wild desires
tonight

concrete poem - national poetry month prompt day 9


Vogan Poetry inspires us all

Couth super- of  the world
trailer, stringendo travels afar
Rent center bank me bark me
recipe, stringendo.for sure for sure

National poetry month prompt  day eight Vogan Bot Poetry


The end of the world news depresses me

the end of the world new
depresses me
makes me want to shout and scream

**** leave me alone
to deal with my grief
amid the death and destruction

watching CNNMSNBCFOXBBC media nonstop
filled with essential dread
the end of the world is upon us

from the screaming news media
spreading forth across the land
fake news screams the president

all is alright he proclaims
no one believes his 16,000 lies
and so it goes

we are drowning with information
coming at us so fast
and furious

When will it end my friend
is anyone’s guess
in the long run we are dead

National poetry Month Day Seven poem inspired by the news


the Devil speaks In the Garden of Earthly Delights

in the garden of earthly delights
the devil makes a covert appearance
disguised as always

he wanders about the world
corrupting everything
with his evil foul deeds

the devil turns to me
and says welcome to my world
human

you will soon be mine
death and destruction
revenge is mine

you will all die
i decree it
and he laughs

and continues to corrupt
the garden of Eden
and earthly delights


ekphrastic garden of earthly delights national poetry month prompt day 6

president trump haunts my Dream

president Trump
haunts my dreams
daily dystopian nightmares
as he daily proclaims
the end to the republic

as he ushers in fascism
with his every lie
he corrupts the world
and I hate
seeing his bloated fat ugly body

that haunts my every dream
as I watch him  rant and rage
against my old friends,
his enemies in the deep state
ushering in chaos and destruction


National Poetry Month day four prompt image from a dream



ten words random rhymes

every day I see our president
Trump proclaims that he will be president
his image haunts my dreams
dystopian nightmares propels my dreams
as the president proclaims he is president
the end of republic follows
no one hears our screams
He ushers in endless dreams
fascism inspires
our collective screams

national poetry month Day three prompt  write a poem based on ten random words


674 Santa Rosa

my childhood home
for almost 10 years
was 674 Santa Rosa
Berkeley California

A five bedroom
adobe California home
on the side of a hill
at the bottom of the Berkeley hills

you entered on the top floor
across the street you entered
on the bottom floor
thus it was in the Berkeley Hills

the house
had a large deck
with a perfect view
of the golden gate

we used
to sit outside
watching the sunset
as we ate dinner

my Mom and Dad
would have
their nightly cocktails
on the deck

before retreating inside
to continue
their nightly fights
and arguments

I grew up
downstairs
hearing their constant words
of hatred, dismay and outrage

my parents were the proverbial
odd couple
perhaps
never should have married

but despite the hate
there was still some love
that kept them together
throughout the years

we had a rec room
with a pool table
and I hung out there
with my friends

my mother tolerated my friends
most of the time
she would be somewhat sober
until after they left

and the madness came
over her
as she drank her whisky
and wine

the basement room
was added later
was my younger brother’s room
later was my room

whenever I visited
from college days
hiding out downstairs
avoiding my mad mother

my old room lay abandoned
filled with books
thousands of books
that I had read over the years

when she died
I should have taken
all the books
instead I took

about one hundred
just no space
for the books
of my childhood memories

National Poetry month day two prompt specific place poem 674 Santa Rosa Berkeley California


My life appears to a dream


For I dream
of meeting
the love of my life

in a dream
she haunted my dreams
for eight years

she walked out of my dreams
into my life
and became my wife

yes my life
resembles a fairy tale
complete with a princess

that rescued me
with her undying love
and made my life complete

national Poetry Month Day One Prompt Metaphor for Life Dreamer




Trump Derangement Syndrome Blues

Trump haunts my nightmares
dystopian visions
soon to come true

fan story 15 syllable poem contest

Saturday April 11

To My Dream Woman Who Loves Me

to my dream woman
who has loved me so
over the years
since I first dreamt
of meeting her
thank you for finding me
and rescuing me
I just have three words
to say
I love you
Saran hae
and  in a million other languages
and will love you
until the end of time

writers digest prompt to write a x  Blank  x

BLACK OUT POEM

Black out Poem
God’s Punishment

Original text


During a press briefing today to address the nation’s response to the coronavirus pandemic, President Trump was asked about certain Christian pastors who plan to defy state lockdown orders and hold Easter church services this Sunday.
“I’ve had talks with the pastors, and most of the pastors agree … that they are better off doing what they are doing, which is, distancing,” Trump said, adding that the pastors want to “get back to church so badly.”
Report Advertisement
Trump then referred to a notorious pastor who sits on his religious advisory council.
Defend democracy. Click to invest in courageous progressive journalism today.
“I’m going to be watching Pastor Robert Jeffress, who’s been a great guy,” Trump said. “He’s a great guy and I’m going to be watching on a laptop.”

Jeffress is known for his litany of statements demonizing the LGBT community, abortion, and secular people. One of his most reviled comments came in 2015 when he said the 9/11 attacks were God’s punishment on America for abortion.
“People ask me all the time,” Jeffress said during a speech at Liberty University. “‘Well, I just don’t understand why God wouldn’t protect our nation and he would allow these radical Muslims in 2001 to **** 3,000 of our citizens and why God doesn’t protect us. Surely, God doesn’t use pagans to bring judgment upon his own people, does he?’”


“I’ve had talks with the pastors, and most of the pastors agree … that they are better off doing what they are doing, which is, distancing,” Trump said, adding that the pastors want to “get back to church so badly.”
Report Advertisement
Trump then referred to a notorious pastor who sits on his religious advisory council.
Defend democracy. Click to invest in courageous progressive journalism today.
“I’m going to be watching Pastor Robert Jeffress, who’s been a great guy,” Trump said. “He’s a great guy and I’m going to be watching on a laptop.”


Jeffress is known for his litany of statements demonizing the LGBT community, abortion, and secular people. One of his most reviled comments came in 2015 when he said the 9/11 attacks were God’s punishment on America for abortion.
“People ask me all the time,” Jeffress said during a speech at Liberty University. “‘Well, I just don’t understand why God wouldn’t protect our nation and he would allow these radical Muslims in 2001 to **** 3,000 of our citizens and why God doesn’t protect us. Surely, God doesn’t use pagans to bring judgment upon his own people, does he?’”

Black out text

the coronavirus pandemic, President Trump
hold Easter church services this Sunday.
“I’ve had talks with the pastors, get back to church so badly.”

“He’s a great guy and I’m going to be watching on a laptop.”

he 9/11 attacks were God’s punishment on America for abortion.
“People ask me all the time,” ‘Well, I just don’t understand why God wouldn’t protect our nation and he would allow these radical Muslims in 2001 to **** 3,000 of our citizens and why God doesn’t protect us. Surely, God doesn’t use pagans to bring judgment upon his own people, does he?’”

Poem

Corona Pandemic is Not’s God’s Punishment



Amid  the coronavirus pandemic,
President Trump
Attended virtual Easter church services
I’ve had talks with the pastors,
We need to get back
to church so badly.”

Rev Jeffries is  a great guy
I’m going to be watching on a laptop.”

Rev Jeffries said

The 9/11 attacks were God’s punishment

on America for abortion.

“People ask me all the time,”
‘Well, I just don’t understand
why God wouldn’t protect our nation
and he would allow these radical Muslims in 2001
to **** 3,000 of our citizens
and why God doesn’t protect us.

Surely, God doesn’t use pagans
to bring judgment
upon his own people,
does he?’”

I am sad to report

Rev Jeffries

I spoke to God

This morning

He confirmed

He did not cause 9-11

To bring judgement

On the US

For abortion

He went on to say

The corona virus

Is beyond his control

And he is not sending it

To punish the US

Or the world

His final words

Please tell Rev Jeffries

To simply ****

poetry super highway black out poem

coffee Whitney

my coffee
morning delight
all day long
not though at night
can not sleep
afternoon coffee
leads to nightmares lasts all night


writing.com Whitney poem form
  
coffee Hay Na Ku


hot
coffee
in morning

ice
coffee
afternoon

Drink
coffee
afternoon

will
soon have
bad nightmares

must
have my
coffee now

drink
coffee
all day long

no
way sleep
will come me

curse
of my
mad coffee

writing.com prompt write a Hay Na Ku Poem
Daily Dew Drop In submissions as well



women playing the lute contemplating God

a woman sits
by herself playing the lute

deep in contemplation
thinking of God's love
for her

thinking of the devil
and his temptations
she continues playing the lute

all poetry contest

fight the horde.../...I can't beleive it...
we're overrun.../...what do they WANT?!...
a teammate falls.../...the world's gone TO hell...
he won't make it.../...their drive is to EAT...
they chomp away.../...obi wan isn't YOUR only hope...
out of ammo.../...can't stop it!...
fangs tear in.../...she'll never know...
they'll never stop.../...my last breath...
             ...i think...
stand up soldier!.../...i can't think straight...
the hive mind speaks!.../... BRAINS are for the living...

"Ang pagmamahal ko sa iyo ay kasing init ng bawat pagsikat ng araw. Ngunit kapag ako ay iyong sinaktan, asahan **** hindi mo na masisilayan ang paglubog ng araw."
Sa isang sikat na resort sa Laiya, Batangas napagkasunduan ng magkakaibigang sina Adlaw, Bulan, Amihan, Machete, at Tawa-Tawa upang alalahanin at damhin ang buhay probinsiya. Halos limang taon na rin ang nakalipas nang huli silang nakauwi sa kani-kanilang probinsiya.
At dahil sa iisang kompanya lamang sila nagtatrabaho sa Makati ay sa isang lugar na lang din nila napagdesisyunang magliwaliw. Iyon nga lang ay isang araw lang ang common day off na mayroon sila, kaya lulubusin din nila ang isang araw upang magtampisaw sa karagatan.
Nasa iisang kompanya lang sila nagtatrabaho na kung tawagin ay Cliffhanger Outsourcing Center, pero magkakaiba ang araw ng kanilang day off. Sina Adlaw at Bulan ay mag-ka-teammate na kung saan ay miyerkules at huwebes ang araw na wala silang pasok habang ang tatlo na sina Amihan, Machete at Tawa-Tawa ay Huwebes at Biyernes naman ang araw na walang pasok.
Sakay ng isang van na ang may-ari ay si Machete, dere-deretso na silang bumiyahe. Madaling araw pa lang ay agad na silang umalis. Kapag maluwag ang daloy ng trapiko ay aabot lamang ng isang oras at kalahati ang biyahe patungong Laiya, Batangas.

Streets lined with confetti
Cheering crowds waving flags
Delighted squeals of the young child
Even destitutes on holiday
And the sun burning its merry way on the sidewalks

Ascent of the podium
Big bow to everybody
More cheers
Slogans read: long live the hero
Happy days to come
and, no one shall stand in our way

The people hush
they quiet as the microphone moves closer
a smile:

I am no hero

––a pause––a cheer––

I am no hero

––another pause––no cheers––

There is no glory in killing
no honour in ending a life
that could have gone on to be so much more
a person who
had their own hopes
dreams––––––––––

––all is quiet over the square
and the sun continues to shine––

––––and people who loved them

There is no joy
in dealing pain
––and pain that never heals

––––silence––––




––a child cries––


a pain that is my pain
a pain that never goes away
a pain of hearing the last words of someone
who could have easily been your friend
your neighbour
your teammate
your best man
your brother––––

They always say: tell them... I love them
and who shall carry out this task?
the one who slew them?

––––––––––––––––––––

so I keep it with me
forever, and perhaps in time
someone will pass it on

––––mostly they stay ungiven
until this generation passes
and that unhealing pain follows us away
and then we go on over and over again

So I don't think that we should say
that we are heroes today
we are no heroes
we are only survivors
victims of a dying breed
and ebbing slowly.

––––a silence––––

The sun continues to shine.

At 18, in college I was a slacker.
A **** that refused to attend
a class much before eleven.
My thoughts not extending
far beyond tomorrow’s game.
Still a little groggy from
Too much beer the night before,
Eyes reluctantly barely open,
I found and took my seat.

The class was in a Lecture Hall,
Theater seating for a hundred.
A class filled to near capacity,
For a Professor everyone loved.
“American History One O One”,
Taught by Doctor Weatherspoon,
A very cool Professor.

He was a very exacting man,
Always prompt and to the point,
A wonderful Lecturer and Historian.
Leaving out most of the trivial ****.

And yet on this morn,
It appeared he was late.
The clock on the wall
Informed eighteen minutes
Past Eleven and counting.
A highly unuseal event.
Lateness was not in
This Educator’s play book.

The seated students were growing
Ever more restless with chatter.
No teacher in class after twenty minutes,
Meant the students were free to leave.
One or two kids were already getting up,
to do just that, make a clean escape.

The side door to the raised stage opened,
Doctor W.  appeared, standing alone.
This enlightener of young lives, he
Who brought insight to our minds you see,
was himself quite blind, couldn't see a thing.

He was nearly always in the company of
A teacher’s aid, his hand upon her arm.
A human “Seeing Eye Dog” of his very own.
That day there was no aid present,
He was alone, standing in the doorway,
Only a solemn expression showing,
His ever present dark glasses slightly,
Askew upon his serious, ashen face.

Slowly, hesitantly he edged forward
Appearing unsure of himself,
even slightly confused.
When he thought he must be near
the center-front of the stage stopped,
slowly turned to his right,
Facing the room filled with his students,
We, who had fallen by then nearly, mute.
To silly kids that seldom took anything seriously,
All at once, nothing in that room seemed humorous.

In a flat halting, chocked up voice he announced,
“The President has been shot.
Down in Dallas.
I regret to inform you,
our President is dead.”

An audible gasp,
a collective sigh of shock was heard,
someone cried out; “Oh my God no!”
He held up his right hand, palm out and
Gently moved it right to left, a slow Parade
Wave it seemed. Beseeching us for calm.
The room went instantly silent again.

In a broken voice he continued,
“I think we should all adjourn for the day,
Yes, no class today. Perhaps no other classes at all.
Yes, you should go home now, be with your families.”
He began to softly cry, took off his dark glasses,
Took a white linen hanky from his suite pocket,
Dabbing it at his sunken, sightless eyes.
We had never seen him without his dark glasses,
Looking for the first time, upon his naked human face.

“Yes, it’s best you go on home now,
I’m so sorry; I don’t know what else to say.”

Then in a moment of stress and confusion,
He turned, did a 180,
facing about, the wrong way.
Slowly he began to walk forward,
hands outstretched before him,
towards the solid, rear brick wall,
of the stage. Headed for disaster.

A football teammate of mine,
jumped up on the stage and
Raced to catch the Professor.
Gently taking him by the arm,
ending his error in navigation.
Then my friend guided our Mentor
to the exit door.

All of us, nearly 100 remained seated,
a strange compelling hush,
weighing heavily upon us.
A stunned silence for sure,
that I shall never forget.

Our respected teacher’s emotional,
Confused response only deepening
our own feelings, of loss and dread.
Then we were left alone, together
to ponder what it all meant.

No cell phones, no instant news
Abounding, like birds on the wing,
Filling the air, here there and everywhere
to see and hear. Home was where we
Saw and heard things of import back then,
Home is where we should be.
And that is where most of us went.

Gradually over the next few minutes,
One by one, students rose and silently,
Slowly, reverently walked from the room
As if they were walking from a Church,
after some emotionally wrenching occasion.
A few and not just females were openly weeping.

There is no way to explain all this any better,
There is no real way for you to fully understand,
How it was, how it felt, unless you, yourself were there.
I dare say that anyone over the age of ten on that day,
November 22, 1963 will ever forget where they were,
What they were doing, when they first heard the news
Of the assignation of President John Fitzgerald Kennedy.

A year and a half later I was in the Military,
doing what I thought I should.  
In part perhaps, as JFK had inspired.
“Ask not what your country can do for you.
Ask what you can do for your country.”
My older brother joined the Peace Corps,
I joined the Marine Corps, both answering the call,
As we saw fit.

On that day in November ’63 the entire country
went into a profound and deep National mourning
that lasted for weeks.  

That has over time turned into a National Haunting,
That still to this day, half a century later, persists.

Some things, some events, truly are unforgettable

I watched the light of childhood and innocence
Of playgrounds and friends and recess
Fade in his eyes and give way
To the light of experience.

But they never took the time
To see how much that light faded
Because they were each too concerned with
Trying to prove who was the better parent.

His father took him on road trips
To see the trains from TV
And his mother bought him everything
From bats to pads for his knees

But his love of trains dwindled
As he boarded one each week
As the only bridge between
His "family"

At his baseball games,
They sat on opposite ends of the bleachers
While his teammate's and their parents
Whispered behind their hands about
The boy stuck between them.

Their conversations dwindled
Until they consisted of nothing but
I'll pick him up from school at 3
And you better have him home by 9
And whose weekend is it, yours or mine?

He became nothing more than
A piece of clothing to be borrowed weekly
To be stretched and worn, ripped and torn
To be returned in an even worse condition
Than when they received it.

The cry
of the barrel screams
Screams resound across the earth's
Great Expanse
Expands from the lowlands of Vail to
the valleys of Los Angeles to
the depths of Oceania to
the oceans of death and,
after incessantly increasing,
incredulously stops.

Except not really.

Really, to most Valians,
he was just a name in passing,
fluttering past consciousness just long enough
to get a "poor thing" or a "shame."
Really, his body hit the cement a full
7 hours, 6 minutes before his parents came work
from home, not the other way round,
Saw the alien body of their offspring, then the corpse,
and threw themselves
at lawyers, counselors, and more lawyers
as each professional debated which lover
he wanted as his teammate in the opening of
The Blame Games.
Really, the cessation of Adam's heart
didn't open the gates in exuberant expectation of
The true savior.
His beats stopped when
the world began
The lost change in between his seat cushions
never had just one meaning.
Really, he never thought he would
ever amount to more than a dollar.
Really, the only question that matters,
the only entreatment with gravity,
is, Was he right?

Through desert plains and stormy seas
we travelled hand in hand.
We battled countless enemies
throughout this hidden land.
 
To claim the throne and throw the man
who claims himself as king.
To banish him and curse and ****
his soul that will not sing.
 
The soldiers come the heroes fall.
The swarms keep coming in.
Their numbers grow and multiply,
our forces shrinking thin.
 
There is no way to turn around,
go back to where we came.
We must continue taking ground
and not forget our names.
 
The battles lasted days at times,
the fighting will not cease.
The men are falling in their lines,
but does that give them peace?

Our numbers small and shrinking still,
regroup with less and less
The army charges flattens hills
and leaves behind such mess.

We dig the holes and place the dead
inside the holes to rest.
Their faces fill us all with dread.
We try to fight our best.

The castle shadow covers us.
Our heart can feel the doom.
Throughout the night the battlefield
is lit up by the moon.

The clouds they build and roll across
the sky towards the west.
Around my neck is hung a cross
for Him I do my best.

The archers from the other side,
they line up all around.
We hear the swish of arrows fly,
embed into the ground.

I look around. Of us alive,
there are so very few.
With numbers down to only five
how then can we push through?

At this point another falls,
an arrow through his neck.
His shield cannot stop arrows all
while broken from the trek.

They charge at us we only just
deflect their blows of hate.
We have to win! We simply must
get up and through the gate.

Our numbers then go down to three
a sword went through his heart,
he falls and ceases then to breathe
his armour lined with darts.

We fight them for what seems like hours
but only seconds pass.
Our blood is covering the flowers
that bloom there in the grass.

Weariness has settled in
to our so tired bones.
Our pride and honour caving in,
we’re so far from our homes.

We lose the third, his legs were tak-
en out from under him.
I saw the hammer swing and break
his legs right on the shins.

Now left with two, we know we’ve lost
a solemn nod is shared.
So back to back, we face the host
and all their teeth are bared.

There is no chance of standing down,
we’re fighting til we die.
We drop so many to the ground
I hear my teammate cry.

I see the arrow bursting forth
out of his bleeding arm.
I turn my head back to the north
and cry out in alarm.

My throat is sore from calling out
above all of the noise.
The army’s turned us from strong men
into young frightened boys.

He’s sitting there, Beats on music bumping
Losing himself in the rhythm letting the flow
Psych him up, his coach walks over and yells
At him GET YOUR *** OUT THERE. He takes
Off his headphones the final beat bringing
Back a memory

He was sitting there, the coach told him to
Take the bench, the other starter was out
There, where he should be. Gym class picked
Last again told he ***** no one wants him.
He’s tired of not being good enough he vows
To never let it happen again. And so he dedicates
Himself, pushing, driving, putting in the work
Needed to be a star, almost giving up
He never did

The ref looks at him and tells him to step up.
He steps up to the mat, he skates to the line,
He breaks from the huddle, toes the invisible
Line, steps up to the plate, steps  Up next to his
teammate, steps up to the foul Line
The whistle blows

He shoots for the legs, he passes the puck
He throws the spiral, he throws his hands up
He swings his bat, passes the ball, takes the
Shot…..
He pins him in 30 secs and wins the championship,
He puts the puck in the back of the net for
The win, He throws another touchdown
Pass, He pulls down the most amazing catch
He crushes the ball for a homerun,
He kicks the ball into the net, he swishes
The ball, nothing but net

They call him the legend, champion
The monster, invincible, hall of famer
They ask how he done it?
He never gave up on that vow and he
Step up

Choking on words
Attempting to shove them down

Reliving the vision of you
Brings mixed emotions

We do not speak
For reasons continually multiplying

Yet I wish to tell you
Hurts unspoken

I dream of stopping you
In your tracks

Merely to tell you
Secrets left unsaid

"Your teammate's hands
Skipped consent

I cannot forget
The look in his eyes

His touch left my skin
Purple in places

He made me feel
Like I was the cause."

But dreams are
Only hazy

They're wishes meant
For the mind only

We do not speak
And I will not tell you

You will never know
Of bruises on thighs

I want someone to need me
Or at least want me
To feel my presence
To turn to me for help
To cry on my shoulder
To ask to spend time with me
As much as I ask them

Because right now
I just feel like the unwanted friend
The one who no one really wants around
But politely puts up with

I'm the replaceable teammate
Who has useful skills
But my space could easily be filled
By a thousand other people

Everywhere I go
I am either unneeded
Unwanted, or replaceable
I am merely a spare person
Who people forgot
The moment I am beyond sight

Banners over us,
reminders of the first signed sigil waved
to mean something
to watching eyes,
fleets follow the highest flown flag,
designated leader, the kings sigil says so, so
as pledged, we go where the flag leads, then

just yesterday, I learned
of this ritual,
and I recalled the honor
of learning
to fold this flag.
This symbol,
for which it is noble
to die,
some do even dare
to teach this ritual to a select few,
fatherless, fearless, fungible future
first team something common sensitive.
exchange aitia cause for excuse
-- this world is folded implicitly, syllable
after
thump whump sigh,
a cough, to clear a lacquer of phlegm,
syllable, forming peace in time,
sit back, truth or dare,
do you believe in folded world symbols?

Have you a sacred flag? Final symbol showing
fungible duty done, paid in full.
Honor where honor is earned as endurance, that's all.

Endure to the end, making peace with childish
yous you meet at life's sharp end.

There was a committee who invented this ritual,
proud were those who fit the entire myth
true rest, freedom of thought, word, and deed,
in return,
fair and square, peace and safety and more meat
and milk than men should ever eat, but
what the hell, we won, we stole all their cows,…

pledged, initiated, used to abuse the worth of wrong
ideas… core right, correct, recht at once, stalility

ifity, wobbledy goop… did you learn this on your own?

"The first fold of our Flag is a symbol of life.

The second fold is a symbol
of our belief in eternal life.
{so the first must mean mortal life eh}

The third fold is made
in honor and remembrance
of the veterans departing our ranks who gave a portion
of their lives for the defense
of our country
to attain peace throughout the world.
{sounds fishy, attain peace, hmmm,
by being ready to give your own pound of flesh,
get some skin in the game.
Make up a mind that matches the imitation. }

The fourth fold represents our weaker nature;
{ I am not making this up}
for as American citizens trusting, GOD-
it is to Him {whom? wombed or un} we turn in times
of peace as
well as in time
of war
for His divine guidance.
{marching as to war…skip step stutter, cross this bridge}

-- meaning 4:
: a structural unit of a definable syntactic, semantic, or phonological category that consists of one or more linguistic elements (such as words, morphemes, or features) and that can occur as a component of a larger construction

From <https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/constituent>

Enfold your flapping mind, in my world, school starts
in one week, and Grandma is in Idaho, with old friends.
The two tweens are radiating readiness, prepping
to not appear to be as weird as Grandpa,
but, still, knowing, least said,
soonest mended, wait to know what's next, fold
in silence… Our sample flag was earned on Iwo Jima,
where Don Wourms watched his basic buddy die.

"I did nothing right, I survived", me, too, echoing

The fifth fold is a tribute to our country,
for in the words of Stephen Decatur,
"Our Country, in dealing
with other countries
may she always be right;
but it is still our country, right or wrong."
{Yep, no lie, by sixth grade, 12th year on Earth,
there is the lie, regarding trust, duty, & honor.
Plato said Socrates said,
Guardians must be bred and nurtured, fed
the duty and honor, brother closer than friend,
teammate, rowers on the same bench,

boom}

The sixth fold is for where our hearts lie.
It is with our heart that we pledge allegiance
to the Flag of the United States of America,
and to the Republic
for which it stands, one Nation
under God, indivisible,
with liberty and justice
for all.
-- 13 fold, 48 ply

There are series of numbers that mean nothing,
and sums that can find a link, a mental
tic take a thoughtmmmm
thirteen habits has the seedmmmmmhmm
thirteen folds in the star spangled banner.
thirteen stripes folded within blue heavensmmmhmmm
- unlucky number thirteen
- contentintensity semantic tic BAT

The seventh fold is a tribute {something owed whom?}
to our Armed Forces,
{The entire complex economic entity}
for it is through the Armed Forces that we
protect our country and our
flag
against all her enemies,
whether they are found within or
without the boundaries of our Republic.

{ be me, that boy, the one with the paper route.
selected to be the flag folder for fridays, 1960-
leading the class into a weekend of fun
being good citizens, stopping, looking, listening
marching for dimes and publisher's clearing house}

The eighth fold is a tribute {that's the word, you owe}
to the one who entered
into the valley of the shadow of death,
that we might see the light of
day, and

to honor mother, for whom it flies
on Mother's Day.

{fact check all you wish, this is the ritual,
it ain't a sacred secret, it's spiritual as hallowe'en}

The ninth fold is a tribute
to womanhood;
for it has been
through their faith, their love, loyalty
and devotion
that the
character
of the men and women
who have made this country great
has been molded.

{Dis try t' trump thet, patriophathemphatical, know 't all}

The tenth fold is a tribute {eh, patriot, pay the price}
to the father, for he too,
has given his sons and daughters
for the defense
of our country since
they were first born. {The children were sold}

{{}
- HONEST, chile, we sold you for goodness sakes
- you had to survive the learning
- to hold the knots of knowns left idle,
- as any oath unaccounted for,
- I swear, we swear some curses unawares,
- and those echo back as strangersmmm
- white noise sssorting questions
spark
The program that made the mind tools we use,
voltron, chess, appletalk space wars, in 1986,

very strange, the reappearing highschool connection,
very American looking, gamer aimed plots

dot to dot
seeing secret patterns, imagining inside the folded
weltanshaung squirrelled world, put away,
to be unfurled one fine daymmmm

blue skies, my friend. Finish the folds - 1960}


The eleventh fold, in the eyes
of a Hebrew citizen represents the lower portion
of the seal
of King David and King Solomon,
and glorifies
in their eyes,
the God
of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

The twelfth fold,
in the eyes
of a Christian citizen, represents an emblem
of eternity and glorifies,
in their eyes,
God the Father, the Son and Holy Spirit.
{I do feel like this bit of truth is
too strange to have known, are there rewards for this?
Is it a preboneman rite of passage,
done to become the meaning knower,
holder of the knack the leader of the fold team holds,
the knowledge as to why,
we do things right, or not at all.}

The thirteenth fold:
When the Flag is completely folded,
the stars are uppermost
reminding us
of our Nation's motto,
"In God We Trust."  {since 1956}
After the Flag is completely folded and tucked in,
it takes on the appearance of a cocked hat,
ever {riiight}
reminding us of the soldiers
who served
under
General George Washington,
and the Sailors and Marines
who served
under
Captain John Paul Jones,
who were followed
by their comrades and shipmates
in the Armed Forces
of the United States, preserving
for us the rights, privileges, and freedoms
we enjoy today.
{freedom of the press does belong to the one
who uses the common media - so far,
soo so good… this era in my sovereign real estate}

-- admin reviewed this, there are mental peace niks
planting confusion bombs on free way emergency
exits…
bass beats whump whump, feel it in y'teeth…

the vision in context fades… a final seal set
the teacher tells the disciple to carry the message
inside… know know
why you dare die for the story that formed your
child's mind. Look at your own kid, what you did.

BTDT. BTW, fold it up and put it away.

"The next time you see a Flag ceremony
honoring someone that has served our country,
either in the Armed
Forces or
in our civilian services such as
the Police Force or Fire Department,
keep in mind all the important
reasons behind each and every movement.
They have paid the ultimate sacrifice
for all of us by honoring our
Flag and our Country.

--- so did I blaspheme? I swear I had only
a boy's philosophy…

ping to 2021, hear my grand daughter prepping
for school in Descanso, listening to an audio book,
with the hero character a teen, mortal Apollo,

and the evil representative…
I listen, that immortal voice, Caligula's last mind
left in songs, sung as true, no lie

No lie,
passes untold, when in time, the implicit unfolds

and the edge dwellers, see jesus represented
in the widow's mites exchanged for motes
clanged
and sparked to say,

I know, who you think I am, my ad.
Click bait, fair fungible, win by a little tiny bit,
GO.

That is the game, three moves for each atom
in all we imagine our augmented eyes have seen.

AI do use the common store of knowns,
growing exponent opponent potentially ever
after
this…

for a while, why imagine hell was ever real?
as adjustments occur
to your way of seeing time as a whole truth
u u u ambig u u u is us ambigu is ous oy vwey
hayah hayah

Can two broken hearts heal one another?       Can two that are lost, help each other be found? Can those torn down build one another?         Can the next teammate do more than rebounds? You lose your faith, you lose your sight. You try to find the strength to fight.                           You’re down by 1, just run the play. Be your hero, save your day.                                             Find your teammate, pass the rock.                     Let it go, shoot your shot.

i am so sick and tired of the cancer game, that is merely what it is; a game. this game is four quarters long (on the other hand we could say it was four years). you watch from the bench as your team and cancer each score goals, each winning at different times in the game. but cancer is strong and a hell of a lot better at fighting. you sit on the bench, kicking and screaming, as you watch cancer tear your team to shreds. cancer doesn’t give up.

1st quarter; your team is winning, but still unable to walk without a walker.

2nd quarter; cancer is kicking *** and you keep begging to be put in, you want to help fight; it’s not your turn yet. cancer is winning.

3rd quarter is a race against time, the teams are tied, but you know what is going to happen, but no one wants to say it; you’ve already lost the game.

4th quarter; the game might as well be over. everyone has stopped cheering. they’ve lost all hope, but you continue to scream because you won’t be able to come back from this season.

10 minutes left; 3 months. the team has pretty much stopped playing; treatment is stopped. you still think your team will win, because they’ve pulled through before, right?

5 minutes left; 1 month. you hold tight to your team, you cannot stop holding tight. you know the ending, but no one will say it, still. you cherish every blank stare and gibberish speech. you take in exactly how she says your name and the way she holds her spoon. the game is coming to an end.

10 seconds left; 1 week. it’s getting harder, the field is dark and slippery, you cannot see what is right in front of you.

5 seconds left; 3 days. you hold your teammate as she sobs on the bench. you make do.

3 seconds left; 2 days. a time where you should be celebrating. you continue to look deeper within for some sort of answer from God, but you’re so full of doubt and despair that you cannot seem to find Him within the mess.

1 second left; 1 day. you call your mom to tell her about the game and how you cannot see a thing, but she is watching closer than you. you ask how the player is doing and she tells you it’s almost over. you find yourself praying for the end to come sooner, now maybe; but you can’t seem to imagine life without the game.

0 seconds left; the end. you stop, but the world around you keeps going. you’re broken inside, but you can barely keep it hidden. you walk out with a smile, that everyone can see through. you’re not going to be okay for a while. your nonni, she’s gone.

you go to the recognition ceremony and hold your cousin’s hand while others talk about the greatest player of all time, but you cannot seem to find the strength inside you to stand up and share how you found God again and how your nonni is to thank, because oh how awful it sounds to thank someone for having cancer and breaking you. you cling to your seat for days, wishing that things would change, but they don’t

you will have more seasons; better ones and worse ones too, you will get through them too.

He'd be twenty today.
Unfortunately, that truck had other plans.
Instead, he'll always be fifteen,
thirteen days away from turning sixteen.
T-***** on the corner from our town to the interstate.
A turn everyone has made one thousand times.
For his memory, only one time will ever be remembered.
A classmate, a friend, a teammate, a brother.
The list goes on and on.
None of these can ever truly capture his fire, life, joy.
There still isn't a day that I do not think of him,
and how unfair it all was.
For a small town of 2000,
we still feel the effects of that tragic day.
When everyone knows everyone else,
and you flip on the news to see things like
"teen killed in crash",
phones light up like wildfire,
everyone calling everyone to check in.
To think,
all that pain, misery, grief
could've been avoided,
if I took the time that day,
staying at the school,
and lifted with him.
Maybe then,
he wouldn't have gone home,
or at least,
not that early.

That night, everyone met at the football field,
and wept.
and wept.
and wept.
Taking styrofoam cups, interlocking them in the fence
to spell out a final message.
"WE <3 U  T-BAIN #11 2013".
You see, 11 was his jersey number for everything, and I mean everything.
He played basketball, football, baseball.
You name it, that dude could play it.
Because he was our Superman.
And 2013 was supposed to be his graduating year.
Instead, a vacant chair with a cap placed ever so neatly
and a gown draped over was all we got.

The service was held in the gym,
there was just no where else to go that would fit enough people.
As people littered the gym,
a giant projector ran clips, showed pictures, played music
but it just wasn't good enough.
I wanted the authentic guy, not just his image ran on a big screen.
I wanted Tanner back.
We all did.
Instead we had the service.
Where there wasn't a single dry eye in the entire O-zone*,
even the sternest of faces softened up.

Two weeks ago,
which was four years and two days after the accident,
we held a charity two and one mile race event.
Wristbands, shirts, glowsticks.
I can promise with one-hundred percent certainty,
that my community has not, cannot, and will not
ever
forget.
"Always remember, never forget" pasted over and over,
on the sports team's shoes, football sideline, wherever.
Instead, this trauma has brought our tight-knit town
closer together than ever before.
We rallied behind his family,
and together we were able to overcome
this melancholic fog
that gripped our town at the throats.
Instead of being glum about his passing,
we celebrate his life,
cherish his memory.
I'm sure
he wouldn't have it any other way.

My father made me      Not be rude
                                         Bless my food
                                         Know what’s good

My father made me      Sit up straight
                                         Tow my weight
                                         Be a teammate

My father made me      Help my Mother
                                         Think of others
                                         Love my brothers

My father made me      Think like a man
                                         Do all I can
                                         Be what I am

My father … Made me

there are days
when you experience
a one, or two
second delay,

life is a little
on the laggy side;
the movements
follow alongside
sluggish, and
desperate for
rest;

days when you
tell your fellow
teammate to hold
back, but they continue
onward

determined
to attack

and when they're
dead from such
recklessness

aren't we allowed
to sigh off the
woes of the entire
universe?

am i,

your humble
speck

not given

at
least a say

in the matter?

So Now That I’ve Had The Chance...
To Watch The Show...

... “ THE LAST DANCE “...

It’s INCREDIBLE To Know...
How HARD It Was For... MJ...
To Make His Way In The NBA...

From His College Days...
To His Days of PAIN...
When His Coach Would Say...

“ Come on now MJ,
you’re not fit to play ! “

To See How He’d COMPLAIN...
... CLEARLY Displayed...
How His DESIRE Was GREAT... !!!

To Be A WINNER...
At Basically ANY COST... !!!

And Was Willing To Deliver...
To Be... The BOSS... !!!

And The Greatest To EVER...
Play The Game... !!!!!

To Me He Was BETTER...
Than Kobe Or James... !!!

But Kobe Was CLOSE...
And That Is NO JOKE... !!!

And Like... PELE...
There Was Something In The Way...
He Chose To DISPLAY...
His Talents And Gifts...
Like A Sporting KING... !!!

Just Like KING VIV...
Whose Talent, Drive...
And PURE DISCIPLINE... !!!

Have Now Influenced Me...
And How I Write My Poetry...

It HAS To Be RIGHT...
And Flow SO TIGHT...
That I’ll Spend ALL DAY...
And Sometimes ALL NIGHT... !!!

Until I Find...
... The PERFECT LINE...
To Put In Rhyme... !!!!!!

It’s A Line That’s FINE...
Like MIchael On The Baseline... !!!

About To Drive...
And Simply BLOW BY...
ANY Defensive Guy...
Who Dared To Try...
To Leave Michael Denied... !!!

Now It’s Not Quite The Same...
In The... Poetry Game...
Because A Lot of Lame Brains...
Disrespect Wordplay...

That Is... THE TRUTH... !!!

When It Proves To Influence...
And DESTROY IGNORANCE... !!!

It’s Not Quite As BLATANT...
As A Foul That’s Clearly Flagrant... !!!

You See My Influences Came...
From A Lot of Sporting Names...

But MJ Just... AMAZED... !!!
With How He’d Chew And Gaze...
And Somehow Touch The Sky...
As If His Shoes Could FLY... !!!

So When I Sit And Write...
I... ELEVATE My Mind...
To Keep My Standards HIGH... !!!

And To NEVER EVER Think...
That My Words CAN’T Claim The WIN... !!!

But Just Like Scottie Pippen...
I Know What It Is To Be DISMISSED... !!!
And See Someone BED BOUND...
In Their VERY OWN House... !!!

So Did What Was Right...
Instead of Making Light...
of A DIFFICULT Time...
To Earn A Money Prize... !!!

So I Have Been Influenced...
By Those Who Have Shown Prudence...
Even When I Never Knew It.....

It Was Something In Their Movements...
And How They Kept Improving...
That Kept My Mental Tutored...

In... NEVER Letting Up...
Especially When Things Got...
.... REALLY TOUGH.... !!!

When Dealing With My Mum...
When Sickness Hit And Stunned... !!!

I Would NOT Run...
Like My Father Had Done... !!!

I Had To Stand By Her...
Like A Teammate Does...
Who Helps Them To Conquer...
Like Scottie Did For Jordan... !!!

I’ve Met Sportsman...
Who’ve Made Their Mark...
Like... Jahangir Khan... !!!

And Saw Humbleness...
As Well As GREATNESS...

NOT The Behaviour of An ***...
And Like My Father Always Said...
Have Shown DIGNITY And CLASS...

EVEN IN Times When...
I’ve Been INFLUENCED...
To REACT Like TYSON...
EAR Biting And FIGHTING... !!!

But Have Learned To Be Cool...
In The Face of FOOLS...

From My Days At School...
To Working With Dudes...
And Women... TOO...

Who Thought That They...
Could ***** My Name...
With Their Childish Games...
And ****** Displays...

Which Brings Me Right Back...
To The Man... MJ... !!!

That’s Right Michael Jordan...
The One And Only KING...

... of The NBA...

An INCREDIBLE Mover...
Defender And Shooter... !!!

Who Was NOT PERFECT... !!!
But When He Came Correct...

... He Came CORRECT... !!!!!

Leaving His Opponents...
Either BURIED Or DEAD... !!!

A... MASTER Craftsmen...
And Disciplined Marksmen... !!!

Who Just Like The Men...
I’ve Mentioned in This Poem...

Was CLEARLY A CUT...
ABOVE All The Rest... !!!

A GENIUS And A...
... CHAMPION... !!!!!

Who Has Certainly Fed...
MANY MORE Than Me...
Through His Sporting Feats...

Because He Worked HARD...
To Make His Mark...
And CLEARLY EARNED...
The RESPECT That He DESERVED... !!!

And Has INSPIRED Me...
To Write This Piece of Poetry...
That Speaks A Little Bit...
About... His History...

That TRULY Represents...
What It Takes To Be The BEST... !!!

And To DEFINE The Word...
That Has Influenced...
How I Write My Poems...
And Construct My Verse...

It Demands DISCIPLINE...
And Garners Great Respect...
Cos’ It’s About MUCH MORE...
Than Becoming FAMOUS...

It Requires GREAT STRENGTH... !!!

To... TRULY ACHIEVE...
What It Is That We DEFINE...

As Having This Thing...
That Is Known As...

..... “ GREATNESS “.....

HI GUYS AND GALS

this morning i had a fun time at tenpin bowling and i got a 300 in two games, the first

2 scores were 150 and 150, which adds up to 300 and then i got 135, which made my total score

for the day a great 435, i got 6 strikes, my teammate shane got 191 and 236 and 145, which was radically awesome, dudes

when i got spares and strikes it was cool, but my misses were very frustrating, but it’s only a game




it’s only a game

you might bowl some good frames

but it’s only a game

other players are getting good scores

but you can say mine were good too

but it’s only a game

i will be in a tournament soon

i hope i win a medal in most

but i will have a lot of fun regardless

because it’s only a game

it was fun at bowling

people getting good scores

but it’s only a game

and it is

hey are my frame by frame scores









FIRST GAME




1      9 /         17

2     7 /          34

3     7 /          53

4     9 /          72

5    9 -           81

6     9 /          98

7     7 -         105

8     7 /          123

9     8 1          132

10   X 7 1       150

TOTAL SCORE      150



SECOND GAME




1      9 -          9

2      9 /         29

3         X        49

4      9 /         67

5      8 1        76

6      9 /          93

7       7 /        113

8          X        132

9       9 -          141

10     9 -           150

TOTAL SCORE           150



THIRD GAME




1            X          27

2            X          46

3         7 2           55

4         9 -            64

5             X           82

6          7 1            90

7          9 /           109

8           9 -           118

9           1 8           127

10          8 -            135

TOTAL SCORE           135