No More

How many of you
have a problem with where this country is going?
What it's doing?
Don't raise your hands now
it won't make a difference.
You know what you should do
instead of shouting "Yea!"
or anything else.
Go out and fight.
And I don't mean with your fists
or guns
or bats
or knives.
I mean with your heads.
Hit them where it hurts most.
Make others see them
as the villains they are.
How do you do that?
Well, think about it.
When was the closest
this country has ever come
to a revolution?
The 1970's.
They fought
not with weapons
but with peace.
And when others saw the riot police
beating teenagers down
who were armed with nothing but flowers
people understood what this country had come to.
Unfortunately, the New Deal stopped that.
But now we need to do it again.
I'm tired of hearing people complain
and complain
about what's wrong with our government
and society
but they don't suggest any radical changes.
yes, radical changes.
Because that's what this country needs.
Radical change.
We can no longer rely on the old theory of
"use the system to fight the system"
because the system is fixed, and not in our favor.
You know how we need to fight?
We gather.
Because we have the numbers.
And we all stop fueling
THEIR terror
THEIR weapons
THEIR war.
That's right.
I'm saying that we
ALL stop paying taxes
and we ALL stand in the street
and see what they do.
What can they do?
They can't arrest ALL of us!
They can't kill ALL of us!
We are the people
and WE have the power,
something those bureaucratic
assholes seem to have forgotten.
so I say
I say we remind them.
Remind them what this once
great nation was founded on.
Not fear and government power
that's fascism
it was founded on Justice
on Liberty
on FREEDOM
and that's what we need
that's what we must fight for.
We can't cower in fear any longer.
You say you go to protests?
good for you.
They AUTHORIZE those protests!
When in HISTORY did an AUTHORIZED
protest work?
You're telling me we have to ASK them
if it's okay to object to what they're doing?!
NO!
I say we go out there and protest
and not give a damn what they have to say about it.
and if they arrest us all, fine
but soon they will realize,
that there's too many of us to control
and we will, once again, have the power.
what we do then?
well, that's not my decision to make.
this country was founded on Democracy
and it will be, not just mine, but all of our decisions to make.
Long Live Freedom!

Coming Clean

I am, amongst many things, a poet.
I write poetry for love
for loss
for laughter
for fun
and for... whatever.
Well this time is different.
This time
This time I'm writing for me.

I know I'm melodramatic
and as I feel my heart ache
others look in contempt
as though I am a liar
a faker
an "attention-seeker"
Well,
I have lied
and I have faked
and I have sought attention.
But nonetheless
I still feel this pain in my soul
and I know
somewhere within the depths
of my subconscious
that the only person
who can fix this pain
this agony
this self-degradation
and lack of self-value
...
is me.
So I plan to do it.

I am a son.
I am his son.
And though years have gone by
since he acknowledged it
I know he loves me.
I just know it.
I won't go into how I know
or why I know
I just do.
And as I say this,
I can't help but think
of all the times I've buried my head
into the soft hold
of someone close to me
and cried and cried
and asked why he didn't care
why he wanted me gone
why he hated me.
And it makes me hate myself
... more anyway...
Because I know if he had heard
if
if he had heard what I said.
that he didn't care
wanted me gone
HATED me
well,
he would hate himself
and he would cry.
And for so long
I told myself I hated him
I couldn't bare his existence
I know
I couldn't live without him
Not now.
Because I need to know
even if it isn't obvious
I need to know he's there
and that he loves me
just as much as I love him
or else all those things he's said
that I'm a disappointment
a disaster
a...
a failure...
they would all be true.
But they're not
even as I say it, I don't believe it
So I find myself repeating it like a mantra
I'm not
I'm not
I'm not
I'm not
I'm not a disappointment
I'm not a disaster
I am NOT a failure

I am a poet
And this one's for me.

The Drunken Banter

The boy spoke softly
his cherry lips
rendered me completely helpless
and as I staggered towards the light
I could not rid myself
of the broken player
stuck on a vinyl of his gentle words.
I finally reached the illuminated doors
-bathed in the harsh glow
of the red exit sign above them-
and stumbled into the alleyway.

I didn't know where I was,
and frankly, did not care.
It was night and the street was empty.
The boy followed me
his steps unwavering
trailing my drunk meandering.

I don't know who he was
or who he is
and only truly know
that he evoked from me
such sadness as I had not yet known.

The boy was dead,
my memory is now a poem,
my poem a eulogy.