Thursday, November 20, 2008
The Same
"I tell you, it is not me yo are looking at, Not me you are grinning at, not me your confidential looks incriminate, but that other person, if person, you thought I was: let your necrophily feed upon that carcase." Let your hatred beat that body of shame and regret, let your whip of animosity thrash at the soft tender skin of that wrinkled, phamaldahide injected, coat of flesh. For I am none of that, I am you. Not you in thought or action but you in a physical sense. I don't let your figurative chastisement and literal bludgeoning, ensnare my pride. My pride is too great. Your attempts to belittle me, only make me larger. Instead of casting your witchcraft on me in-order to make me a toad, I become an elephant thus making you a toad in relation to me. The irony is that in an attempt to diminish me, you make yourself smaller. Your hostile words, cut downs, and insults, only knock on the door of your own conscious, they only incriminate yourself. So now you should realize that it is no longer I who is being whipped but rather I became the whipper, the feeder, and the bludgeoner of your conscious and your pride. Trying to darken my life only taints your own. Now can't you see we are all the same, hurt by our action or the actions of others, either way we are both hurt.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Invisible
I am invisible, unseen and unheard by all
Lost in a pit of gloom
No shadow no identity no name to call
Body gone like the empty tomb
Mind empty and body clear
No feeling of touch by hand
Anger brews and down streams a tear
I am an Invisible Man.
I relish light it makes me real
To shine and pass on through my skin
I love my transparency because it does reveal
That I might be visible again.
But maybe it's them who are blind
And not the fault of my invisibility
If they only opened their eyes and mind they would find
My amiability
This will never happen Ill have to stand
Being the Invisible Man
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Lit Mag submissions
These are a few of my favorites....What do you think?
It's Hard Out Here for a Wolf
I am known by many as the "Big Bad Wolf" I say that name in quotations because I am neither big nor bad. Actually now that I think of it, I'm not even a wolf. I am the illegitimate son of White Fang (the Alaskan husky) and Mr. T (the A-Team member). So as you can tell I get my Big and Bad characteristics from my mother, Mr. T, and my wolf characteristics from my father, White Fang. But I am telling you this only to get to the real issue at hand. I am innocent. Children across the globe have been force feed false stories portraying me as the villain. Ok I will admit I had an addiction to cocaine back in the 70's, which engendered my obsessive sneezing problem, but I didn't purposely knock down the two little pig's houses. Also who builds a house out of sticks? Come on! And straw, please, straw is useless even for farming. And to say I liked Little Red Riding Hood is just repulsive. She's too young, I had a thing with her grandma, why do you think I was wearing her clothes? There are all these stories portraying me as the bad guy, but in reality the only things I am guilty of are:
1. Sneezing too much and
2. Having a relationship with a seasoned elder. But as my good friends Caleb Florence and Daniel Harrison say, age before booty. So stop your accusations calling me the Big Bad Wolf, my name is Mr. John T. Fang and for the little pigs out there, stop being so stingy and buy materials that can actually withstand a small gust of wind.
Change Will Come Acrostic
Uniformity the downfall of society
Conformity boredom stirs
Anger seems parallel to piety
Negativity progression blurs
Convergence significant to prosperity
Harmony seldom seen
Ambition now just a parody
Nothing nice to say, so we are mean
Going on a steady down hill
Endangering not just the nation
Turmoil also to lands over sea
Hatred not rationed
Ending discrimination is an essential key
War destroying foreign relations
And only exacerbating economic decline
Yesterday we say, hoping for restorations
Wondering why our progression is behind
Everyone needs to work together to help the good cause
Living in an apathetic nation is no fun
International policy falls
Vitalization makes hope when reconstruction has begun
Everything will be great again, when change doth come.
Childhood Illness
Stomach aching, feeling wheezy
In the toilet is my macaroni extra cheesy
Hyperventilating, peering over the seat
Now I just upchucked my luncheon meat
Off of the toilet to take a sip.
Down my throat the liquid slips
But not for long because it soon comes out
All chopped and discolored like sour crout
Now pain alleviates and I sit with my dad
Stomach ache subsides and I don't feel so bad.
Empty stomach, allures me to eat some din.
But after five minutes the cycle starts over again
Hunger is over, discomfort is all I feel
Then I throw up my most recent meal.
Lady in The Water
Still, tranquil, immobile, yet vivacious. I lay stiff in the river dead in body, but fully active in spirit. Clatter surrounding me: frogs, fish, tress; the very essence of nature. My dress caked and logged heavy with the dirty water from the infinite stream. Insects gather and feast ruthlessly on my pruned and corroded flesh, minnows swimming between my toes. Birds chirp loudly shouting orders, but who cares? I am at rest at peace, nirvana. Wildlife snagging at my dress with immense perseverance disparately seeking my attention, but I give them none. My muscles don't move, cells don't budge and bones don't crackle. I am still. At peace more then ever, lost in my own world of unlimited thought where physical life is scarce. As I float on down stream I hear voices followed by shrieks. Spectators cry and become petrified at first sight of me, I don't budge, I am still tranquil, full of life, yet dead.
It's Hard Out Here for a Wolf
I am known by many as the "Big Bad Wolf" I say that name in quotations because I am neither big nor bad. Actually now that I think of it, I'm not even a wolf. I am the illegitimate son of White Fang (the Alaskan husky) and Mr. T (the A-Team member). So as you can tell I get my Big and Bad characteristics from my mother, Mr. T, and my wolf characteristics from my father, White Fang. But I am telling you this only to get to the real issue at hand. I am innocent. Children across the globe have been force feed false stories portraying me as the villain. Ok I will admit I had an addiction to cocaine back in the 70's, which engendered my obsessive sneezing problem, but I didn't purposely knock down the two little pig's houses. Also who builds a house out of sticks? Come on! And straw, please, straw is useless even for farming. And to say I liked Little Red Riding Hood is just repulsive. She's too young, I had a thing with her grandma, why do you think I was wearing her clothes? There are all these stories portraying me as the bad guy, but in reality the only things I am guilty of are:
1. Sneezing too much and
2. Having a relationship with a seasoned elder. But as my good friends Caleb Florence and Daniel Harrison say, age before booty. So stop your accusations calling me the Big Bad Wolf, my name is Mr. John T. Fang and for the little pigs out there, stop being so stingy and buy materials that can actually withstand a small gust of wind.
Change Will Come Acrostic
Uniformity the downfall of society
Conformity boredom stirs
Anger seems parallel to piety
Negativity progression blurs
Convergence significant to prosperity
Harmony seldom seen
Ambition now just a parody
Nothing nice to say, so we are mean
Going on a steady down hill
Endangering not just the nation
Turmoil also to lands over sea
Hatred not rationed
Ending discrimination is an essential key
War destroying foreign relations
And only exacerbating economic decline
Yesterday we say, hoping for restorations
Wondering why our progression is behind
Everyone needs to work together to help the good cause
Living in an apathetic nation is no fun
International policy falls
Vitalization makes hope when reconstruction has begun
Everything will be great again, when change doth come.
Childhood Illness
Stomach aching, feeling wheezy
In the toilet is my macaroni extra cheesy
Hyperventilating, peering over the seat
Now I just upchucked my luncheon meat
Off of the toilet to take a sip.
Down my throat the liquid slips
But not for long because it soon comes out
All chopped and discolored like sour crout
Now pain alleviates and I sit with my dad
Stomach ache subsides and I don't feel so bad.
Empty stomach, allures me to eat some din.
But after five minutes the cycle starts over again
Hunger is over, discomfort is all I feel
Then I throw up my most recent meal.
Lady in The Water
Still, tranquil, immobile, yet vivacious. I lay stiff in the river dead in body, but fully active in spirit. Clatter surrounding me: frogs, fish, tress; the very essence of nature. My dress caked and logged heavy with the dirty water from the infinite stream. Insects gather and feast ruthlessly on my pruned and corroded flesh, minnows swimming between my toes. Birds chirp loudly shouting orders, but who cares? I am at rest at peace, nirvana. Wildlife snagging at my dress with immense perseverance disparately seeking my attention, but I give them none. My muscles don't move, cells don't budge and bones don't crackle. I am still. At peace more then ever, lost in my own world of unlimited thought where physical life is scarce. As I float on down stream I hear voices followed by shrieks. Spectators cry and become petrified at first sight of me, I don't budge, I am still tranquil, full of life, yet dead.
Senior Project Petition
Dear Parents of Decatur High students,
The Senior Project is a topic that has accumulated a copious amount of strong feelings, some positive but mostly negative, throughout our school. In any argumentative piece, one must take into consideration all angles of the argument, including the counter claim. I will attempt to do this while stating my argument of the matter.
The school's main assertion is that the Senior Project is an enriching and productive experience, and was created to better prepare the senior class for college. This logic is only partly correct. It is very true that colleges expect students to be able to create an accurately cited research paper. However, there are many differences between this paper and the ones that students will have to write in college. First of all, the senior project paper requires a coach, requires deadlines for outlines, 1st and 2nd drafts, and meetings with coaches. That will not happen in college. Also, this paper is designed not to stand on its own, but rather to lead the student towards his or her project. That is also different from college. To try and compare this senior project research paper with the same papers that will be written in days rather than months, and will be submitted with no coaching, no outside help, for a grade in a class, is a stretch at best. This paper doesn't prepare us for those we will encounter in college. As to the school's assertion that it is enriching and productive, this does have the potential to be true, however the main problem with the school's deduction is that students have made getting into college a higher priority than honing their skills at writing a research paper, or taking the time to build up a portfolio, meet with coaches and mentors, and then finally create their project.
The main fallacy in the planning of the Senior Project is the fact that it is ill timed. According to the Senior Project handbook given to each senior, the first draft of the research paper was due on the 16th of October. Now to the problem. Early action deadlines range from October 15th to November 5th depending on the school. Assuming that one already knows how to cite sources in MLA format, and knows how to properly research a topic, (which is far from the truth) it is still absurd to demand that a rough draft of a paper to be due around the same time early action deadlines are expected. When weighing the significance of a Senior Project draft in comparison to a college application deadline, priority has been, and must be given to the college application process. The fact is, for most students, getting into the right college for them is simply much more important than the senior project, and it should be. It's not like the project will go into college applications. The deadlines were so ill-timed, that the results of the senior project, that accomplishment, that creation, will not be seen by the colleges students apply to. Because of this, applications must take priority over the research paper. The final deadline for the project and presentation is in late April, the time when students begin to study for finals, create final projects for their classes, try to maintain a good grade, and for some, also study for AP tests.
Another fallacy I found browsing through my Senior Project handbook was found on the inside of the front page (page 2). The first words of the handbook state that, "Decatur High School has implemented a Senior Project to help seniors recognize the importance of becoming self-motivated and independent individuals." Seven lines after this statement the handbook continues by stating: “By school board policy, the Senior Project is a culminating graduation requirement." After reading these sentences I was thrown aback by the comedic irony and blatant contradiction printed on the well laid-out page. If the school has in fact created the Senior Project to help seniors "recognize the importance of becoming self-motivated and independent individuals," then why has the school board made it a "culminating graduation requirement?" That defeats the whole purpose and objective of self-motivation. These two quotes are paradoxical. If one is true, the other one cannot be. If the main intention of the Senior Project is to self-motivate, then how could it also be a requirement? It's not logical, it's double think. Self motivation is an intrinsic drive, if the school board makes it a requirement, it is no longer self motivation, it is a mandate. The faculty have themselves been inconsistent on this issue. Students have been told explicitly by the leaders of the senior project committee that it is up to them. "We will not come after you, we will not track you down, it is up to you guys to get this done," said a teacher on the Senior Project Committee. Less than a week later, that same teacher was spotted on several occasions actually pulling students out of their classes to talk to them about their Senior Project progress. This is simply an example of the lack of consistency between the organizers and the students they are trying to organize.
A counter argument to the allegation that the Senior Project does not self-motivate, is one I have heard on many occasions when expressing my frustration towards this project to teachers. Teachers claim that it is still self motivation because you get an opportunity to research a topic of your choice. This is true, we, seniors, get a say in what we research. It is nice to be able to write a paper or create a project based on a topic of our own choosing. However, there is a fat problem. It is NOT simply an enjoyable project. It is much more extensive and time-consuming. The actual project, the part that is hypothetically enjoyable, is hidden, shoved into the back of the broom closet, by tedious work - writing a research paper, finding and working with a coach and mentor, documenting the interactions with your mentor, accumulating things for your portfolio, writing letters, and much more. The "project" in "Senior Project" is suffocated. It is lost. All four P's (paper, project, portfolio, and presentation) are to be completed in our senior year. The project portion of the Senior Project is the only part which truly has the potential to ignite internal motivation. When met with the paper, portfolio and, presentation, however, a fun and stimulating project is transformed into an overbearing workload. I will agree that the Senior Project can be educationally rich and may help a little in preparing us for our college lives, but why does it all have to be completed senior year? I learned MLA citation and parenthetical documentation last year in my AP language and composition class. Junior year seemed fitting to learn these useful skills, and moreover, a fitting time to write the entire paper. Not senior year, amid the stress and laboriousness of balancing college preparations, high school, work, and extracurricular obligations.
The best way to alter the Senior Project is not to abolish it, but to reform it. Equalize the workload among sophomore, junior, and senior years. If the paper was written, the mentor was contacted and established, and the portfolio was well underway by the start of senior year, it would make the process much better. Take time out of classes to teach youth in their sophomore and junior years how to write a research paper. Then finally let the seniors choose a project to complete in their senior year that is not only educationally fruitful, but interesting to them, that is the self-motivated learning part. It is not the Senior Project's responsibility to prepare students for college; it is a high school's responsibility. The goal of a high school is to prepare students for college, just like the goal for college is to prepare students for occupational life. Why is it then that we do the project on our own time? We need the school's time, the school's support, and most of all we need the school's help in rethinking the premise behind the Senior Project.
The bottom line is, as dedicated and hard-working as the teachers and school board can be, the success of the senior project depends almost solely on the effort and motivation of the student. I think that at this point in time, the attitude of the students will lead not only to an undesirable outcome this year, but will also taint the appeal of the senior project for the senior classes of the future. The Senior Project is a great idea on paper and is potentially beneficial, but a lot of aspects of it need to be reworked. This is not the time to require the Senior Project; it needs further thought and reform. If you agree with me that the project needs reform, then please sign your name on the following petition. If we get enough parental support (close to majority) we will send our signatures to the school board attempting to probe a change.
Sincerely,
Jacob Rogers-Martin
PS: If you have any questions or comments please email to: limeinthecoconut123@gmail.com
I believe that the Senior Project should be reformed and re-evaluated with the goal of making it work next year:
Parent Signature:
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Name of student:
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Date:
-------------------------------------------------------
Phone Number or Email Address:
---------------------------------------------------------------
The Senior Project is a topic that has accumulated a copious amount of strong feelings, some positive but mostly negative, throughout our school. In any argumentative piece, one must take into consideration all angles of the argument, including the counter claim. I will attempt to do this while stating my argument of the matter.
The school's main assertion is that the Senior Project is an enriching and productive experience, and was created to better prepare the senior class for college. This logic is only partly correct. It is very true that colleges expect students to be able to create an accurately cited research paper. However, there are many differences between this paper and the ones that students will have to write in college. First of all, the senior project paper requires a coach, requires deadlines for outlines, 1st and 2nd drafts, and meetings with coaches. That will not happen in college. Also, this paper is designed not to stand on its own, but rather to lead the student towards his or her project. That is also different from college. To try and compare this senior project research paper with the same papers that will be written in days rather than months, and will be submitted with no coaching, no outside help, for a grade in a class, is a stretch at best. This paper doesn't prepare us for those we will encounter in college. As to the school's assertion that it is enriching and productive, this does have the potential to be true, however the main problem with the school's deduction is that students have made getting into college a higher priority than honing their skills at writing a research paper, or taking the time to build up a portfolio, meet with coaches and mentors, and then finally create their project.
The main fallacy in the planning of the Senior Project is the fact that it is ill timed. According to the Senior Project handbook given to each senior, the first draft of the research paper was due on the 16th of October. Now to the problem. Early action deadlines range from October 15th to November 5th depending on the school. Assuming that one already knows how to cite sources in MLA format, and knows how to properly research a topic, (which is far from the truth) it is still absurd to demand that a rough draft of a paper to be due around the same time early action deadlines are expected. When weighing the significance of a Senior Project draft in comparison to a college application deadline, priority has been, and must be given to the college application process. The fact is, for most students, getting into the right college for them is simply much more important than the senior project, and it should be. It's not like the project will go into college applications. The deadlines were so ill-timed, that the results of the senior project, that accomplishment, that creation, will not be seen by the colleges students apply to. Because of this, applications must take priority over the research paper. The final deadline for the project and presentation is in late April, the time when students begin to study for finals, create final projects for their classes, try to maintain a good grade, and for some, also study for AP tests.
Another fallacy I found browsing through my Senior Project handbook was found on the inside of the front page (page 2). The first words of the handbook state that, "Decatur High School has implemented a Senior Project to help seniors recognize the importance of becoming self-motivated and independent individuals." Seven lines after this statement the handbook continues by stating: “By school board policy, the Senior Project is a culminating graduation requirement." After reading these sentences I was thrown aback by the comedic irony and blatant contradiction printed on the well laid-out page. If the school has in fact created the Senior Project to help seniors "recognize the importance of becoming self-motivated and independent individuals," then why has the school board made it a "culminating graduation requirement?" That defeats the whole purpose and objective of self-motivation. These two quotes are paradoxical. If one is true, the other one cannot be. If the main intention of the Senior Project is to self-motivate, then how could it also be a requirement? It's not logical, it's double think. Self motivation is an intrinsic drive, if the school board makes it a requirement, it is no longer self motivation, it is a mandate. The faculty have themselves been inconsistent on this issue. Students have been told explicitly by the leaders of the senior project committee that it is up to them. "We will not come after you, we will not track you down, it is up to you guys to get this done," said a teacher on the Senior Project Committee. Less than a week later, that same teacher was spotted on several occasions actually pulling students out of their classes to talk to them about their Senior Project progress. This is simply an example of the lack of consistency between the organizers and the students they are trying to organize.
A counter argument to the allegation that the Senior Project does not self-motivate, is one I have heard on many occasions when expressing my frustration towards this project to teachers. Teachers claim that it is still self motivation because you get an opportunity to research a topic of your choice. This is true, we, seniors, get a say in what we research. It is nice to be able to write a paper or create a project based on a topic of our own choosing. However, there is a fat problem. It is NOT simply an enjoyable project. It is much more extensive and time-consuming. The actual project, the part that is hypothetically enjoyable, is hidden, shoved into the back of the broom closet, by tedious work - writing a research paper, finding and working with a coach and mentor, documenting the interactions with your mentor, accumulating things for your portfolio, writing letters, and much more. The "project" in "Senior Project" is suffocated. It is lost. All four P's (paper, project, portfolio, and presentation) are to be completed in our senior year. The project portion of the Senior Project is the only part which truly has the potential to ignite internal motivation. When met with the paper, portfolio and, presentation, however, a fun and stimulating project is transformed into an overbearing workload. I will agree that the Senior Project can be educationally rich and may help a little in preparing us for our college lives, but why does it all have to be completed senior year? I learned MLA citation and parenthetical documentation last year in my AP language and composition class. Junior year seemed fitting to learn these useful skills, and moreover, a fitting time to write the entire paper. Not senior year, amid the stress and laboriousness of balancing college preparations, high school, work, and extracurricular obligations.
The best way to alter the Senior Project is not to abolish it, but to reform it. Equalize the workload among sophomore, junior, and senior years. If the paper was written, the mentor was contacted and established, and the portfolio was well underway by the start of senior year, it would make the process much better. Take time out of classes to teach youth in their sophomore and junior years how to write a research paper. Then finally let the seniors choose a project to complete in their senior year that is not only educationally fruitful, but interesting to them, that is the self-motivated learning part. It is not the Senior Project's responsibility to prepare students for college; it is a high school's responsibility. The goal of a high school is to prepare students for college, just like the goal for college is to prepare students for occupational life. Why is it then that we do the project on our own time? We need the school's time, the school's support, and most of all we need the school's help in rethinking the premise behind the Senior Project.
The bottom line is, as dedicated and hard-working as the teachers and school board can be, the success of the senior project depends almost solely on the effort and motivation of the student. I think that at this point in time, the attitude of the students will lead not only to an undesirable outcome this year, but will also taint the appeal of the senior project for the senior classes of the future. The Senior Project is a great idea on paper and is potentially beneficial, but a lot of aspects of it need to be reworked. This is not the time to require the Senior Project; it needs further thought and reform. If you agree with me that the project needs reform, then please sign your name on the following petition. If we get enough parental support (close to majority) we will send our signatures to the school board attempting to probe a change.
Sincerely,
Jacob Rogers-Martin
PS: If you have any questions or comments please email to: limeinthecoconut123@gmail.com
I believe that the Senior Project should be reformed and re-evaluated with the goal of making it work next year:
Parent Signature:
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Name of student:
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Date:
-------------------------------------------------------
Phone Number or Email Address:
---------------------------------------------------------------
Monday, October 20, 2008
A Cry For Help
"Poems always about sex and always about death."
That statement had just escaped her breath
"No way!" he exclaimed, "that can't be true!"
"Would you like me to demonstrate it for you?"
"Sallie calm down!" as she raised the gun to his face.
"Can't we all get along in this human race?"
"Sex and Death" she said once more,
While she violently threw him onto the floor.
With a thunderous crack the bullet hit his chest
But the poem had only half fit in with the rest.
Though you may think this is a disturbing text
You don't even want to know what happens next.
That statement had just escaped her breath
"No way!" he exclaimed, "that can't be true!"
"Would you like me to demonstrate it for you?"
"Sallie calm down!" as she raised the gun to his face.
"Can't we all get along in this human race?"
"Sex and Death" she said once more,
While she violently threw him onto the floor.
With a thunderous crack the bullet hit his chest
But the poem had only half fit in with the rest.
Though you may think this is a disturbing text
You don't even want to know what happens next.
The Nile of the Id
His mind trickled like faucet into pan
Flowing with life but taking no such form
Unpredictable, not really a man
His personality veered from the norm
His mind like a river split as a fork
Dark in its color, unknown in its depth
His anger compared to a river's torque
The aroma of whiskey on his breath
A misunderstood comment set him off
Continued to stalk long past his bus stop
Red eyed he approached the victims loft
wire around the neck his victim then drops
The dripping upon the pan then ceased
He had finally fed the inner beast.
Flowing with life but taking no such form
Unpredictable, not really a man
His personality veered from the norm
His mind like a river split as a fork
Dark in its color, unknown in its depth
His anger compared to a river's torque
The aroma of whiskey on his breath
A misunderstood comment set him off
Continued to stalk long past his bus stop
Red eyed he approached the victims loft
wire around the neck his victim then drops
The dripping upon the pan then ceased
He had finally fed the inner beast.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
The Purple and Gold- (Ode to the Vikings/purple people eaters)
Come from church on every sunday
Dress in colors that represent me
Hopefully the pride is passed on someday
My love and passion a definite key
Grab a ball, a hat, and the pair of colors too
Relax and converse with only these
3 and out my anger does brew
Disappointment takes me over like an invasive disease
Why so mad it's just a game? but they don't understand
Oh no its not! its my life
But my explanation just seems bland
My alleviator and my bragging right
The best of my friends new and old
Nothing is near as tight
As my pride for the Purple and Gold
Dress in colors that represent me
Hopefully the pride is passed on someday
My love and passion a definite key
Grab a ball, a hat, and the pair of colors too
Relax and converse with only these
3 and out my anger does brew
Disappointment takes me over like an invasive disease
Why so mad it's just a game? but they don't understand
Oh no its not! its my life
But my explanation just seems bland
My alleviator and my bragging right
The best of my friends new and old
Nothing is near as tight
As my pride for the Purple and Gold
Close to Her
I walk, she walks
She smiles, I talk
Strangers and acquaintances
Nervous and awkward
Pull me closer to you
I say, she laughs
She rants, I overplay
Friends and Conversationalists
Joking and Enjoying
Pull me closer to you
I embrace, she indulges
She runs, I chase
Confused and Shy
Longing and Happy
Pull me closer to you
I stare, she notices
She giggles, Im aware
Wanting and waiting
Trying and taking
Pull me closer to you
I kiss, she kisses
She hugs, I hug
Content and Content
Satisfied and Satisfied
I am finally close to you
She smiles, I talk
Strangers and acquaintances
Nervous and awkward
Pull me closer to you
I say, she laughs
She rants, I overplay
Friends and Conversationalists
Joking and Enjoying
Pull me closer to you
I embrace, she indulges
She runs, I chase
Confused and Shy
Longing and Happy
Pull me closer to you
I stare, she notices
She giggles, Im aware
Wanting and waiting
Trying and taking
Pull me closer to you
I kiss, she kisses
She hugs, I hug
Content and Content
Satisfied and Satisfied
I am finally close to you
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
The Lit Mag
The quality of the layouts and creativity put into creating the newer Lit Mag, helped its overall success. I think the bounty of side pictures help compliment the entries. I especially like the illustrations that link to the entries (pg. 54). I also like the size of the new lit mag, it is more subtle and less intimidating. In the future I think we should model the Lit Mag after the part years one, but incorporate pictures that positively compliment the entries. The variety of work in both Magazines was exceptional. I also like the slanted stories and staggered lines.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
The Golden Key (an insight on a woman's self asteem)
Under the rubble, a golden key lay.
Sparkling in the summer light,
waiting for an observative eye to catch sight of her beauty
the summer heat exacerbates
flaking the venerable gold coating.
From 80F to 90F to 100F
the temperature rises.
the golden key just lays there
hoping to be picked up by a pedestrian.
The keys shape warps due to the harsh climate.
But the key is still confident in the fact that
if just one person sees her beautiful appearance
that they will keep her,
love her,
cherish her.
But no one comes by.
Summer passes and here comes fall.
Leaves fall,
caking the key's beautiful body with dirt and grit.
Her gold feature, blemished by a thick layer of smudge.
fall passes
winter arrives
freezing her, resulting in her golden alloyed skin to crack.
Then comes spring,
with it comes rain. Acid and normal,
both prove to be detrimental to the key's health.
The rain stains the key an ugly brown.
And by the time summer comes back around,
the key has lost all hope in finding a rescuer.
Her skin blemished,
her shell stained,
her confidence and beauty shattered by nature.
Sparkling in the summer light,
waiting for an observative eye to catch sight of her beauty
the summer heat exacerbates
flaking the venerable gold coating.
From 80F to 90F to 100F
the temperature rises.
the golden key just lays there
hoping to be picked up by a pedestrian.
The keys shape warps due to the harsh climate.
But the key is still confident in the fact that
if just one person sees her beautiful appearance
that they will keep her,
love her,
cherish her.
But no one comes by.
Summer passes and here comes fall.
Leaves fall,
caking the key's beautiful body with dirt and grit.
Her gold feature, blemished by a thick layer of smudge.
fall passes
winter arrives
freezing her, resulting in her golden alloyed skin to crack.
Then comes spring,
with it comes rain. Acid and normal,
both prove to be detrimental to the key's health.
The rain stains the key an ugly brown.
And by the time summer comes back around,
the key has lost all hope in finding a rescuer.
Her skin blemished,
her shell stained,
her confidence and beauty shattered by nature.
Stranger in Habitat
Silence is the key, that and imagination, in this land of pure exhileration
Relaxing, body reclined, propping his feet up on a wooden chair.
As he sits,
Eyes focused,
Hearing cut off, and
Mind running free
His mind full of life and liberation,
Like the body of a nudest,
Open, yet still special.
The journey is one with a destination named tranquility
Noises all around
Talking
Fingers tapping ferociously at key boards
Music playing on neighboring computers
Yet he stays serene.
Thinking of one thing, and one thing only:
Everything.
But everything in his mind,
Unfased by chatting and shenanigans
He sits still
Breathing in and out at a steady rate:
In 123, out 123 and the cycle continues
I find it ironic
How I become distracted by someone so disconnected from the world
By someone not trying to be a distraction
By someone who is just lost in a good novel.
Relaxing, body reclined, propping his feet up on a wooden chair.
As he sits,
Eyes focused,
Hearing cut off, and
Mind running free
His mind full of life and liberation,
Like the body of a nudest,
Open, yet still special.
The journey is one with a destination named tranquility
Noises all around
Talking
Fingers tapping ferociously at key boards
Music playing on neighboring computers
Yet he stays serene.
Thinking of one thing, and one thing only:
Everything.
But everything in his mind,
Unfased by chatting and shenanigans
He sits still
Breathing in and out at a steady rate:
In 123, out 123 and the cycle continues
I find it ironic
How I become distracted by someone so disconnected from the world
By someone not trying to be a distraction
By someone who is just lost in a good novel.
When Mama's Not Home Recipe
Take the package, that you acquired from Kroger
Open the square box surrounding the frozen sensation.
Remove the plastic film encasing the circular decadence
Pick up straggling pepperonis or sausages
Place pizza on a small round plate
Lick your lips as you grate sharp cheddar
Cheese over the still frozen dish.
Burp a little to scold your rubbling stomach
Feed the dish to the microwave
Quickly tap 1,2,3,and start on your microwave
Now the worst part comes
Wait, wait, and wait as your frozen rock transforms into a hot master piece.
Pick it up
Disregarding your fingers burning on the hot ceramic plate.
Pick up the pizza
Ignoring the red grease drizzling down your arm dripping on to the table below
Enjoy the flavor
Enjoy the heat
Enjoy the orgasm erupting in your mouth
Pacify your stomach's growling
Enjoy the the greatest food on earth.
Open the square box surrounding the frozen sensation.
Remove the plastic film encasing the circular decadence
Pick up straggling pepperonis or sausages
Place pizza on a small round plate
Lick your lips as you grate sharp cheddar
Cheese over the still frozen dish.
Burp a little to scold your rubbling stomach
Feed the dish to the microwave
Quickly tap 1,2,3,and start on your microwave
Now the worst part comes
Wait, wait, and wait as your frozen rock transforms into a hot master piece.
Pick it up
Disregarding your fingers burning on the hot ceramic plate.
Pick up the pizza
Ignoring the red grease drizzling down your arm dripping on to the table below
Enjoy the flavor
Enjoy the heat
Enjoy the orgasm erupting in your mouth
Pacify your stomach's growling
Enjoy the the greatest food on earth.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Family Business By: Kanye West
This is family business
And this is for the family that can't be with us
And this is for my cousin locked down, know the answer's in it
That's why I spit it in my songs so sweet
Like a photo of your granny's picture
Now that you're gone it hit us
Super hard on Thankgiving and Christmas, this can't be right
Yeah you heard the track I did man, this can't be life
Somebody please say grace so I can save face
And have a reason to cover my face
I even made you a plate, soul food, know how Granny do it
Monkey bread on the side, know how the family do it
When I brought it why had guard have to look all through it?
As kids we used to laugh
Who knew that life would move this fast?
Who knew I'd have to look at you through a glass?
And look, you tell me you ain't did it, then you ain't did it
And if you did, then that's family business
This is family business
And this is for everybody standin' with us
Come on, let's take a family Grammy picture
Abby, remember when they ain't believe in me?
Now she like "See, that's my cousin on TV"
Now, we gettin' it and we gon' make it
And they gon' hate it and I'm his favorite
I can't deny it, I'm a straight rider
But when we get together be electric slidin'
Grandma, get 'em shook up
Aw naw, don't open the photo book up
I got an Aunt Ruth that can't remember your name
But I bet them Polaroids'll send her down memory lane
You know that one auntie, we don't mean to be rude
But every holiday nobody eatin' the food
And you don't wanna stay there cuz them your worst cousins
Got roaches at their crib like them your first cousins
Act like you ain't took a bath with your cousins
Fit three in the bed if it's six of y'all
I'm talkin' 'bout three by the head and three by the leg
But you ain't have to tell my girl I used to pee in the bed
I woke up early this mornin' with a new state of mind
a creative way to rhyme without usin' knives and guns
Keep your nose out the sky, keep your heart to God
And keep your face to the risin' sun
All my people from the Chi, that's my family dog
And my people ain't my guys, they my family dog
I feel like one day you'll understand me dog
You can still love your man and be manly dog
You ain't got to get heated at every house warmin'
Sittin' here, grillin' people like George Foreman
Why Uncle Ray and Aunt Shiela always performin'?
The second she storm out, then he storm in
Y'all gon' sit down, have a good time this reunion
And drink some wine like Communion
And act like everything fine and if it isn't
We ain't lettin' everybody in our family business
-------------------------------------------------------------
I like this poem because it speaks to those who have a large, but close family, as do I, and it really nails the family relationships and bonds flawlessly.
And this is for the family that can't be with us
And this is for my cousin locked down, know the answer's in it
That's why I spit it in my songs so sweet
Like a photo of your granny's picture
Now that you're gone it hit us
Super hard on Thankgiving and Christmas, this can't be right
Yeah you heard the track I did man, this can't be life
Somebody please say grace so I can save face
And have a reason to cover my face
I even made you a plate, soul food, know how Granny do it
Monkey bread on the side, know how the family do it
When I brought it why had guard have to look all through it?
As kids we used to laugh
Who knew that life would move this fast?
Who knew I'd have to look at you through a glass?
And look, you tell me you ain't did it, then you ain't did it
And if you did, then that's family business
This is family business
And this is for everybody standin' with us
Come on, let's take a family Grammy picture
Abby, remember when they ain't believe in me?
Now she like "See, that's my cousin on TV"
Now, we gettin' it and we gon' make it
And they gon' hate it and I'm his favorite
I can't deny it, I'm a straight rider
But when we get together be electric slidin'
Grandma, get 'em shook up
Aw naw, don't open the photo book up
I got an Aunt Ruth that can't remember your name
But I bet them Polaroids'll send her down memory lane
You know that one auntie, we don't mean to be rude
But every holiday nobody eatin' the food
And you don't wanna stay there cuz them your worst cousins
Got roaches at their crib like them your first cousins
Act like you ain't took a bath with your cousins
Fit three in the bed if it's six of y'all
I'm talkin' 'bout three by the head and three by the leg
But you ain't have to tell my girl I used to pee in the bed
I woke up early this mornin' with a new state of mind
a creative way to rhyme without usin' knives and guns
Keep your nose out the sky, keep your heart to God
And keep your face to the risin' sun
All my people from the Chi, that's my family dog
And my people ain't my guys, they my family dog
I feel like one day you'll understand me dog
You can still love your man and be manly dog
You ain't got to get heated at every house warmin'
Sittin' here, grillin' people like George Foreman
Why Uncle Ray and Aunt Shiela always performin'?
The second she storm out, then he storm in
Y'all gon' sit down, have a good time this reunion
And drink some wine like Communion
And act like everything fine and if it isn't
We ain't lettin' everybody in our family business
-------------------------------------------------------------
I like this poem because it speaks to those who have a large, but close family, as do I, and it really nails the family relationships and bonds flawlessly.
Roses By: Kanye West
I know it's past visiting hours
But can I please give her these flowers
The doctor dont wanna take procedures
He claim my heart can't take the anastesia
It'll send her body into a seizure
The little thing by the hospital bed, it'll stop beeping,
Hey chick, im at a lost for words
What do you say at this time?
Remember when I was nine?
Tell her everything gone be fine?
But i'd be lying, the family crying
They want her to live, and she trying
I'm argueing like what kind of doctor can we fly in
You know the best medicine go to people thats paid,
If Magic Johnson got a cure for A.I.D.S.
And all the broke muthafuckers past away
You tellin me if my grandma was in the N.B.A.
Right now she'd be ok?
But since she was just a secretary
Working for the church
For thirty five years
Things sposed to stop right here
My grandfather tryin to pull it together, he's strong,
Thats where I get my confidence from
I asked the nurse "did you do the research?"
She ask me, "can you sign some t-shirts?"
Bitch is you smokin reefer?
You dont see that we hurt
They outside of the emergency room, room
You can feel my heart beat, beat, beat
If she gone pull through
We gone find out soon
But right now she sleep, sleep, sleep
My mama say, they say she could pass away any day
Hey chick what these doctors know anyway
Let me see the X-rays
I ain't no expert, I'm just hurt
Cousin Kim took off for work
Plus my Aunt Shirley, Aunt Beverly, Aunt Claire and Aunt Jean
So many Aunties, we could have an Auntie team
Feel like Amerie "Its this one thing"
When they said that she made it
You see the eyes gleam
I think we at an all time high
To get there we run, we fly, we drive
Coz with my family we know where home is
So instead of sending flowers
We send the roses.
But can I please give her these flowers
The doctor dont wanna take procedures
He claim my heart can't take the anastesia
It'll send her body into a seizure
The little thing by the hospital bed, it'll stop beeping,
Hey chick, im at a lost for words
What do you say at this time?
Remember when I was nine?
Tell her everything gone be fine?
But i'd be lying, the family crying
They want her to live, and she trying
I'm argueing like what kind of doctor can we fly in
You know the best medicine go to people thats paid,
If Magic Johnson got a cure for A.I.D.S.
And all the broke muthafuckers past away
You tellin me if my grandma was in the N.B.A.
Right now she'd be ok?
But since she was just a secretary
Working for the church
For thirty five years
Things sposed to stop right here
My grandfather tryin to pull it together, he's strong,
Thats where I get my confidence from
I asked the nurse "did you do the research?"
She ask me, "can you sign some t-shirts?"
Bitch is you smokin reefer?
You dont see that we hurt
They outside of the emergency room, room
You can feel my heart beat, beat, beat
If she gone pull through
We gone find out soon
But right now she sleep, sleep, sleep
My mama say, they say she could pass away any day
Hey chick what these doctors know anyway
Let me see the X-rays
I ain't no expert, I'm just hurt
Cousin Kim took off for work
Plus my Aunt Shirley, Aunt Beverly, Aunt Claire and Aunt Jean
So many Aunties, we could have an Auntie team
Feel like Amerie "Its this one thing"
When they said that she made it
You see the eyes gleam
I think we at an all time high
To get there we run, we fly, we drive
Coz with my family we know where home is
So instead of sending flowers
We send the roses.
Little HAPPY Poems
Life's greatest misconception
Happiness
---------------------------------------
Vengeance
Eagerly
Nudging
Demonic
Efforts
To
Takeout
Anger
--------------------------------------
Leaves falling sunshine
shinning through empty branches
Fall finally here.
Happiness
---------------------------------------
Vengeance
Eagerly
Nudging
Demonic
Efforts
To
Takeout
Anger
--------------------------------------
Leaves falling sunshine
shinning through empty branches
Fall finally here.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Louie's Bad Day
Louie had a horrible day at work. Everything he touched stopped working. His boss asked him to make copies but when he touched the copy machine it stopped working. His boss then yelled at him and told Louie to get him some coffee, but the coffee was cold. So Louie preceded to make a fresh batch but the coffee machine broke. His boss then screamed at him and ordered him to do computer work, but as Louie touched the mouse, the computer stopped working. So Louie instead of breaking the news to his boss, touched his boss making his boss stop working. Then he touched this story making it stop working. THE END
Change Gonna Come Love/Hate list
Uniformity the downfall of society
Conformity boredom stirs
Anger seems parallel to piety
Negativity progression blurs
Convergence significant to prosperity
Harmony seldom seen
Ambition now just a parody
Nothing nice to say, so we are mean
Going on a steady down hill
Endangering not just the nation
Turmoil also to lands over sea
Hatred not rationed
Ending discrimination is an essential key
War destroying foreign relations
And only exacerbating economic decline
Yesterday we say, hoping for restorations
Wondering why our progression is behind
Everyone needs to work together to help the good cause
Living in an apathetic nation is no fun
International policy falls
Vitalization makes hope when national reconstruction has begun
Everything will be great again, because I know change will come.
Conformity boredom stirs
Anger seems parallel to piety
Negativity progression blurs
Convergence significant to prosperity
Harmony seldom seen
Ambition now just a parody
Nothing nice to say, so we are mean
Going on a steady down hill
Endangering not just the nation
Turmoil also to lands over sea
Hatred not rationed
Ending discrimination is an essential key
War destroying foreign relations
And only exacerbating economic decline
Yesterday we say, hoping for restorations
Wondering why our progression is behind
Everyone needs to work together to help the good cause
Living in an apathetic nation is no fun
International policy falls
Vitalization makes hope when national reconstruction has begun
Everything will be great again, because I know change will come.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
It's Hard Out Here For A Wolf
I am known by many as the "Big Bad Wolf" I say that name in quotations because I am neither big nor bad. Actually now that I think of it, I'm not even a wolf. I am the illegitimate son of White Fang (the Alaskan husky) and Mr. T (the A-Team member). So as you can tell I get my Big and Bad characteristics from my mother, Mr. T, and my wolf characteristics from my father, White Fang. But I am telling you this only to get to the real issue at hand. I am innocent. Children across the globe have been force feed false stories portraying me as the villain. Ok I will admit I had an addiction to cocaine back in the 70's, which engendered my obsessive sneezing problem, but I didn't purposely knock down the two little pig's houses. Also who builds a house out of sticks? Come on! And straw, please, straw is useless even for farming. And to say I liked Little Red Riding Hood is just repulsive. She's too young, I had a thing with her grandma, why do you think I was wearing her clothes? There are all these stories portraying me as the bad guy, but in reality the only things I am guilty of are:
1. Sneezing too much and
2. Having a relationship with a seasoned elder. But as my good friends Caleb Florence and Daniel Harrison say, age before booty. So stop your accusations calling me the Big Bad Wolf, my name is Mr. John T. Fang and for the little pigs out there, stop being so stingy and buy materials that can actually withstand a small gust of wind.
1. Sneezing too much and
2. Having a relationship with a seasoned elder. But as my good friends Caleb Florence and Daniel Harrison say, age before booty. So stop your accusations calling me the Big Bad Wolf, my name is Mr. John T. Fang and for the little pigs out there, stop being so stingy and buy materials that can actually withstand a small gust of wind.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
I Had a Dream
I crept into the solid white house on the corner of mimosa Dr. and mimosa plaza. I arrived late in the afternoon drenched in sweat to meet my dear friend Julia Wallace. After brief hesitation to hyperventilate in order to revert my oxygen count back to homeostasis, I knocked gently on the bright white door. Seconds turned to minutes and minutes turned to more minutes, and the door remained motionless. I lofted my hand and knocked on the door viciously, pounding my knuckles on the hard wooden door. As my knuckles met the wood for the second time the door swung open. It was unlocked. I walked into the deserted house calling out Julia's name. No one answered, after much circumspection, I noticed the house was empty, no walls except for the four fortifying the inside, no dressers, no counters, nothing. the only thing in the house was Julia's dead grandmaw laying half naked on the white floor. I stepped back in terror and let out a forcefully pacified yelp. As I Turned to run I heard the door open and slammed closed. In and around the corner came a man holding a gun. "Stop right there!" he shouted. I froze petrified over Julia's grandmaw's dead body. As the figure came out from the darkness, I recognized him to be my good friend Hatim Alyamani. "Hatim I'm so glad to see you! We have to call the cops this woman is--"
He cut me off saying, "My name isn't Hatim, it's lieutenant Fisher and I am the cops."
"Stop playing around Hatim," I pushed "We need to do something about this."
My name isn't Hatim! And I am going to do something." After that being said Hatim yanked my arms together violently and ferociously clamped them with handcuffs. After being escorted out side, the bright light pierced my eyes looking sown to rid my eyes from the bright sun, I met eyes with Julia. In that brief second I saw her mouth the words, "Your and asshole."
He cut me off saying, "My name isn't Hatim, it's lieutenant Fisher and I am the cops."
"Stop playing around Hatim," I pushed "We need to do something about this."
My name isn't Hatim! And I am going to do something." After that being said Hatim yanked my arms together violently and ferociously clamped them with handcuffs. After being escorted out side, the bright light pierced my eyes looking sown to rid my eyes from the bright sun, I met eyes with Julia. In that brief second I saw her mouth the words, "Your and asshole."
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
The Science of Libido
It is a commonly known fact that the only thing that binds adults and drives men is intense promiscuity. It is also universally known that this world was founded on the fundamentals and science of libido. Libido is your sex drive; an innate characteristic in most animals triggered by neurotransmitters and hormonisoan endocrintricular secretions, that help us instinctual find the best mate for procreation. These are more simply reffered to as hormones. But what probes promiscuity? This question and most questions in this field can be answered simply by just stating the word environment.
Social life and low culture plays a huge role in the growth in mental age, physical age, and moral maturity in teenagers. Of course children are more prone to "bad behavior" because of acceptance and that whole second step shit about peer pressure. But one must ask himself, "what is moral." Morality in and of itself is defined by a huge question mark. Who are we to judge if a behavior is good or bad. Adults tell us to save sex for marriage, not to date till 18, not to drink untill 21, but the truth to the matter is that the social interaction that is linked to most of these things is not only the solid foundation of civilization, but it is also prominent and significant in mental maturity.
Learn from experience, mistakes, stories, and most of all learn from the social occasions that epitomize childhood. No one becomes an adult with out being a kid. Sociability breeds libido and libido fuels the earth we live in today.
Social life and low culture plays a huge role in the growth in mental age, physical age, and moral maturity in teenagers. Of course children are more prone to "bad behavior" because of acceptance and that whole second step shit about peer pressure. But one must ask himself, "what is moral." Morality in and of itself is defined by a huge question mark. Who are we to judge if a behavior is good or bad. Adults tell us to save sex for marriage, not to date till 18, not to drink untill 21, but the truth to the matter is that the social interaction that is linked to most of these things is not only the solid foundation of civilization, but it is also prominent and significant in mental maturity.
Learn from experience, mistakes, stories, and most of all learn from the social occasions that epitomize childhood. No one becomes an adult with out being a kid. Sociability breeds libido and libido fuels the earth we live in today.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Childhood Illness
Stomach aching, feeling wheezy
In the toilet is my macaroni extra cheesy
Hyperventilating, peering over the seat
Now I just upchucked my luncheon meat
Off of the toilet to take a sip.
Down my throat the liquid slips
But not for long because it soon comes out
All chopped and discolored like sour crout
Now pain alleviates and I sit with my dad
Stomach ache subsides and I don't feel so bad.
Empty stomach, allures me to eat some din.
But after five minutes the cycle starts over again
Hunger is over, discomfort is all I feel
Then I throw up my most recent meal.
In the toilet is my macaroni extra cheesy
Hyperventilating, peering over the seat
Now I just upchucked my luncheon meat
Off of the toilet to take a sip.
Down my throat the liquid slips
But not for long because it soon comes out
All chopped and discolored like sour crout
Now pain alleviates and I sit with my dad
Stomach ache subsides and I don't feel so bad.
Empty stomach, allures me to eat some din.
But after five minutes the cycle starts over again
Hunger is over, discomfort is all I feel
Then I throw up my most recent meal.
Grandma
Put one foot in front of the other that's what grandma always said,
After rotting in the hospital now grandma's dead
She told me to leave, she didn't want me to see her that way, but never got mad when I decided to stay.
Finding a time and a date to visit we always found a way
The doctors told us she would be OK,
Then after she died they told me the pain would go away
But what do doctors know anyway
If god saves lives, then why did my grandma have to die
Seldom times I cry, but I often wonder why?
Was she not strong enough?
I argue that her life wasn't long enough
The doctors couldn't be wrong enough
My grandma was tough and now because of God my family has got it rough.
After rotting in the hospital now grandma's dead
She told me to leave, she didn't want me to see her that way, but never got mad when I decided to stay.
Finding a time and a date to visit we always found a way
The doctors told us she would be OK,
Then after she died they told me the pain would go away
But what do doctors know anyway
If god saves lives, then why did my grandma have to die
Seldom times I cry, but I often wonder why?
Was she not strong enough?
I argue that her life wasn't long enough
The doctors couldn't be wrong enough
My grandma was tough and now because of God my family has got it rough.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Oral History Project Interview Questions
Could you please spell your name?
Tell me a little bit about yourself?
Where were you born?
Where did you grow up?
Tell me about your family life?
Do you have any children?
What did you do for a living?
What were some of your first jobs?
How much did you get paid for your first job?
Tell me about the schools you attended?
If you could leave advice to today's youth, what would it be?
Tell me a little bit about yourself?
Where were you born?
Where did you grow up?
Tell me about your family life?
Do you have any children?
What did you do for a living?
What were some of your first jobs?
How much did you get paid for your first job?
Tell me about the schools you attended?
If you could leave advice to today's youth, what would it be?
Thursday, August 21, 2008
High, Low, and In Between
Pink my deep misconception, the tenderness and compassion stored deep within my gigantic aortic pump.
Blue shades the cheerfulness and hides satisfaction under the thick opaque darkly colored blue blanket.
Purple my in between, the mediator of my feelings. Nonchalance, tiredness, and slight content encompassed in one.
Pink my high,
Blue my low, and
Purple the mystery and enigma of the in between.
Blue shades the cheerfulness and hides satisfaction under the thick opaque darkly colored blue blanket.
Purple my in between, the mediator of my feelings. Nonchalance, tiredness, and slight content encompassed in one.
Pink my high,
Blue my low, and
Purple the mystery and enigma of the in between.
Popcorn by Mail
Dear Sall Sall,
I just received and consumed the delectable popcorn you just sent me via ground mail. Thanks for not delivering it by sky mail, I mean who wants fresh popcorn? Since you used UPS, I obtained my popcorn in 8 business days. There is nothing like week-old popcorn. Soggy puffs balls drenched in butter, stale from open air, and insipid as a result of the large quantity of salt you dumped in it. My wife calls your little popcorn package, Coronary Infarction-In-a-Bag. By the way, would it hurt to seat it in a air-tight bag next time. The texture was analogous to those decade old Famous Amos cookies you sent me last week. Do us all a favor here at the Rogers-Martin house hold, and stop sending me food that you need to get rid of.
I just received and consumed the delectable popcorn you just sent me via ground mail. Thanks for not delivering it by sky mail, I mean who wants fresh popcorn? Since you used UPS, I obtained my popcorn in 8 business days. There is nothing like week-old popcorn. Soggy puffs balls drenched in butter, stale from open air, and insipid as a result of the large quantity of salt you dumped in it. My wife calls your little popcorn package, Coronary Infarction-In-a-Bag. By the way, would it hurt to seat it in a air-tight bag next time. The texture was analogous to those decade old Famous Amos cookies you sent me last week. Do us all a favor here at the Rogers-Martin house hold, and stop sending me food that you need to get rid of.
Sincerely,
Jacob Rogers-Martin
Jacob Rogers-Martin
Lady In the Water
Still, tranquil, immobile, yet vivacious. I lay stiff in the river dead in body, but fully active in spirit. Clatter surrounding me: frogs, fish, tress; the very essence of nature. My dress caked and logged heavy with the dirty water from the infinite stream. Insects gather and feast ruthlessly on my punned corroded flesh, minoes swimming between my toes. Birds chirp loudly shouting orders, but who cares? I am at rest at peace, nirvana. Wildlife snagging at my dress with immense perseverance disparately seeking my attention, but I give them none. My muscles don't move, cells don't budge and bones don't crackle. I am still. At peace more then ever, lost in my own world of unlimited thought where physical life is scarce. As I float on down stream I hear voices followed by shrieks. Spectators cry and become petrified at first sight of me, I don't budge, I am still tranquil, full of life, yet dead.
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