In 1998 I was sixteen years old and about as lost as a person can be. Then I met Mrs. Gaspari. As it was, I loved to write. I wrote anything and everything: sonnets, free-form nonsense poetry, essays. You name it, I tried it. And it all basically sucked. So when registration for Junior year... Continue Reading →
Gullible phub Thewless prodigy Prodigal daughters of our time. Erudition superstition Not at odds here. No bolt may stifle The freedom of your consciousness. Burn down the library And crucify the church If you must. The padlocks you’ve purchased are your own to pound. Written for Week #3 of Nate's poetry class, Fun With... Continue Reading →
Womanism, a well-known Jezebel (Opposite an insanely inflated sense of self-importance) Maliciously infantile mansplaining (Eyes focused well in the gaslight) Evading this bunglesome lush (Impossibilities and impressions exchanged for a bar tab and flirtatious fallacies) Abandon accountability for ancillary anticipation (A vapid skinflint of acquiescence) Written for Week #2 of Nate's Poetry class, Fun With... Continue Reading →
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I have to admit that when it comes to being what some would consider a “progressive parent” I probably don’t win any awards. Sure, I try to teach my kids the importance of Christian love, charity, social justice, etc.. However, I sleep pretty soundly at night, even after hearing my son tell me he killed 45 people with direct “head shots” on the XBOX.
I also am guilty, along with a great many other parents throughout the history of Western Civilization, of assuming that my children are not really all that interested or attuned to what is going on in the world. So when my son asked me the other day if we can attend the “March for Our Lives” gathering in Washington D.C. to protest gun violence, I was a little surprised.
As a Father I try to be very small (d) democratic. For all my parents neo-conservatism I…
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This absurd anarchy prevails. When Idle, we collide. Destitute and empty And we come here to devour. To discern This excruciating Karma. It is what it is, isn't it? Just a maelstrom of Programmed obsolescence. We are utterly alone. We are wretched. I still write poetry because shit like Stinkfist exists, and I want to... Continue Reading →
“Hey guys! I’m home!” I kick off my Dr. Scholl's flats and plop onto the loveseat. If I reach for the hem of my slacks and hoist my ankle up onto my other knee, I can cross my legs. The girth of my middle is like an inner-tube as I struggle to reach it, but... Continue Reading →
No more of these Excruciating daybreaks and Woeful glances at the mirror. Why do I avert my eyes from my own reflection? After all, don’t I have the Right to wear my wrinkles and pounds as evidence of the life I’ve lived? Don’t they display evidence of joy and fulfillment? Renouncing my own appearance Only... Continue Reading →
“I’m supposed to be in solitary!” “But I’m your girl. I’d never abandon you, baby.” He recoils; her proximity stifling, her dress still imbrued with the evidence of his crime. “But you’re...” “I forgive you for that, and I love you. We’ll live out this life sentence together.” “Guard!” This post was written for the... Continue Reading →
I made four years of my life count at Stony Brook University, only to find out in the end, that it didn’t. I studied, pushing myself to the limits with heavy course loads, all in hopes that I could graduate while my ailing father was still alive to see it. I worked full-time to pay... Continue Reading →