Tortured Ideals

2 05 2012

Misinterpreted

Mislead

Perverted words

And tortured ideals

But who to trust

When they all disagree

On what’s a must

Some say “More freedom!”

Unless you are gay

Or a woman

Or black

Or brown

Others say

“Get out of the Middle East!”

“It’s not our fight!”

But what about that

Disastrous plane flight

And the towers ablaze

Am I in a dream

Or do we really have two sides

With no in between?

That’s my future your playing with,

By the way

My voice is drowned

In the volatile crowd

I don’t have money for a Super PAC

How are those legal anyway?

The concept is simply whack

I’m too young to vote

But old enough to know

This is a bad direction to go

Why don’t you all shut up

And look around

Before this all-out boxing match

Starts another round

 





Sides

17 04 2012

I tried to find the most unbiased article I could for the Trayvon Martin case. Much harder than expected. I searched Trayvon Martin on the Miami Herald‘s and had to go page 34 before I found an article describing more or less the facts of the case, not the racist aspects of it. I wrote this poem more as a response to the reactions of Americans than as a response to the case itself. I don’t know if George Zimmerman is racist or not because I was not there when the shooting happened. This case has changed from one about seeking the truth to one about racial injustices in America. Perhaps this is therapeutic, but we must not forget what this case is really about, the unbiased version of it, and hope that justice is reached, whatever the side.

One side is white

And the other black

In the middle huddles red

Red is what happens

When black and white mix

Red is dreams lost

Red is lives whisked away

Red is the tears of yesterday

You’d think it’d be gray

That mixed stain of colors

Gray is what they should make

Black and White

White and Black

It makes sense

But humanity never has

So the red is still there

A stark reminder of prejudice

The blemish of a failed mass wish

A wall for those

Too something to mix

White and Black

Black and White

Both are colors

But not really

Both do exist

Fact acknowledged or not

Black and White

White and Black

Have much in common

More than they realize

It’s time for them to start

Relying on more than just their eyes





Revolution of Justice

13 04 2012

I wrote this after watching the KONY 2012 video.

                     Voices, voices to be heard

                     Listener, listener spread the word

Raise, raise, raise your hands

Today, today we the lambs

Bare our teeth and shake the land

Growing, growing are the small

Tremble, tremble if you are tall

Brick by brick and stone by stone

We tear down a wall so overgrown

Oh hear it, hear it creak and moan

As it tumbles to the ground

Resonating with freedom’s sound

Together we all can surpass

The few who hold the cards

They have power but we have voices

Voices loud and not ashamed

Voices speaking of those to blame

Voices so many they have no name

Too long we stood aside

Til’ hope had all but died

Today is the day fate is defied

With joined hands

And a billion footfalls

We answer the desperate calls

Of the oppressed and the ignored

We’re shaking the world straight to its core

Today, today and forever more

We take our stand

Because justice is worth fighting for





Choking For Words

8 02 2012

There is a Chinese girl in my history class whom I have become friends with.  She has only lived here in the states for a few years and all things considered is quite fluent. Today we had to read aloud in class and when it got the person before her, it hit me: What would she do? Her accent is rather heavy and she is very soft-spoken.  She started to read and I cringed as the other students snickered. It was all I could do to not slam their cruel faces with my textbook. For a country that encourages immigration, we are so mean to the immigrants once they arrive.

In my recent endeavors to learn Spanish, I have realized how hard it is to learn a new language, particularly one as irregular as English.  I have a new-found respect for the bilingual.

To me it seems like choking

Air supply beneath that of mere survival

Knowing so well what you want to say

Only once translated, it’s all twisted

The words don’t properly form

A new language has turned you forlorn

You cannot fit in

When you can hardly talk

And at your oddly said words they balk

Going out of their way to make it harder

Not even realizing that you are smarter

Because they can’t hear over their own laughter

That’s what it looks like to me as I watch

Her face says she knows she can’t belong

When the language she does know is all wrong

 

 





Where Do the Words Go?

20 01 2012

Where do the words go

The ones that surface too late

To make a difference

Perhaps they float up

Like sad balloons

Longing for a child’s hand

Maybe they hang up above us

Suspended in our personal electron cloud

 

Where do the words go

The ones that are advice ignored

Are they recycled

For another well-meaning soul to give

Or do they sink

Like rocks no longer needed to hold the soil down

 

Where do the words go

The ones that tell of hidden pain

Are they inhaled back by the speaker

Because no one wants to help

Or do they turn into ghosts

That haunt those who could have fixed everything

 

Where do the words go

The ones that spark change

Do they explode like fireworks

Multiplying under a starry sky

Do they fly like swift birds

Singing songs of reformation

I think they evolve and transcend

To something mere language can’t communicate

 

Where do the words go

Or do they never leave





The South in Haiku

12 01 2012

Sorry, I couldn't make the picture any bigger. The South is the farthest region down on the right, in dark green

I am from the south. Most days I am proud to be a southern belle, but sometimes I am not.  Please do not think that these haiku are exact representations of the south.  As a matter of fact, they represent the general stereotypes of the south.  Many of my readers are not from the US, and I wanted to give them a taste of where I am from.  The haiku below do not represent the entire, distinct culture down here.  There are in between’s and also a great deal of cultural diversity.

The above picture shows vernacular regions, also called perceptual regions.  Vernacular regions are not formal regions and exist only in our minds.  A more global example would be the middle east. Other maps will show different shading and generally the southernmost part of Florida (my home, the little part jutting out at the bottom right) is not included.  Remember, vernacular regions are what society makes of them

 

WHY I HATE IT

How big is your truck

How muddy are your old boots

How redneck are you

 

Do be god-fearing

Don’t accept progress and change

Stay stubborn as hell

 

Oh look, it’s a deer

Let me get my brand new gun

BAM! Look at that rack*

 

* refers to the size of a deer’s antlers

 

WHY I LOVE IT

Please come in and sit

Southern hospitality

Will never turn down

 

Condensation falls

Sliding down a tall clear glass

I love my sweet tea

 

Great big families

Always there, love and support

There no matter what

 

 

 

 

 

 





The Dividing Fence

15 12 2011

– I wrote this particular poem at a time in my life when, in retrospect, I was severely depressed. I had no friends and if you have ever been in that situation, it is frustrating beyond belief. My previous school was not exactly one that promoted free thought. To me, the worst thing in this world is prejudice and that is what this poem is about.

The grass is not greener on the other side
Or so they say
Funny what those with silver spoon in mouth and bloated pride
Say as they live life leisurely day by day

It’s not for the other side I long
I only ask to change the direction my wind would blow
And to live my life by the lyrics of my own song
And escape the stupidity of their pompous show

We all try to live our life as we will
And only we can change our course
If only for a moment the world would stand still
And stop the dividing fence at its source

Then perhaps society could coexist in spite
Of the prejudice and suspicion that darkens the light