Another find from the AZ storage unit...here are a few poems written during my freshman year of high school. It was a dark time. But don't worry. I'm still alive.
The Awaited Day
(Sept. 20, 1996)
How lonely is the soul
At the pit of my despair
How deep is the cut
And is it really there
Did it really happen
Or is it all just in my head
I expected them to cry with me
But they laughed at me instead
How many are the tears
That fall now from my eyes
How real is my revealing
How fake is my disguise
What do my eyes say now
The windows of my soul
They are guarded by the shield
That protects the empty hole
Who is next to break my heart
Am I again to be betrayed
Have I come back with too much faith
Will the price be something I can't pay?
How long have I been crying
And do I really suffer now?
How long before I laugh again
Have I really forgotten how?
They don't believe my tears are real
They see this as a stupid game
But I can see the end of my desperation
Death shall be my claim to fame...
Life is...
(Dec. 6, 1996)
Life is a joke that nobody gets
Life is death row without any lets
Life is a prison where no one is free
Life is a lock with a missing key
Life is a maze with no way out
Life is a troubled mind full of doubt
Life is a lie with no truth to tell
Life is a broken bird that just fell
Life is a tiger, starving to death
Life is two worst enemies just met
Life is a map with no north or south
Life is a witness that won't open her mouth
Life is a secret that nobody knows
Life is a dying, withered red rose
Life is a flower that loses its scent
Life is the words that you never meant
Life is a heart, breaking in two
Life is a killer, that killer is you
Life is a long, dark, endless night
It's all over now...turn off the light
Monday, March 7, 2011
Violence is never the answer (then why is it so effective?)
From a very young age I was taught that violence is wrong, that it solves nothing, and that we should use our words to win arguments. Seems like sound logic to me (and I'm pretty sure that most people I know would agree). I'm not a proponent of war, gang violence, or spanking. However, recent discussions, observations, and events are challenging this long-held absolute, and hinting at the possibility that there may be some cases where violence is indeed the most effective, perhaps the only, course of action. But does that make it right?
Ah, there's that word again. What does it mean to be "right," anyway? Right according to whom? Society? Authorities? God? We have written laws which govern society, but the unwritten laws of that society seem to stick us between a rock and a hard place. I'm not just talking about "societal norms" that serve to distinguish the "normal" people from the rest of us, but also personal and group value systems that fill in any ambiguity. How these systems are formed and whether they are defensible is a fascinating question, but an attempt to answer it would not only be frustrating as hell, it would cause me to digress even further from my point, so I'll leave it alone for now.
If I haven't lost you yet, let me explain. I recently observed two entirely separate incidents which on the surface appear similar, but under further review are actually quite different.
The first was actually a fictional event, a scene on my favorite show involving a group of 6th graders on the first day of school. Shane, one of the show's lead characters, is new at the school and is hoping to escape the ruthless bullying he endured in previous years. His friend Isabelle beseeches him to accept his fate with her words of wisdom: "If only life were a Judd Apatow movie where geeks ruled the world, but it's not, so let's just suck it up." Shane shrugs her off and asks someone who the most popular kid in school is. "Dan" is pointed out. Shane walks over to Dan, introduces himself, and then suddenly smacks him in the face with a lunch tray, knocking him out of him seat. From that point on Shane is feared and admired by everyone at his school.
The second event was related to me by my friend's teenage son (I'll call him Mark), who is also in 6th grade. Mark is a sweet kid and has been bullied, ridiculed and otherwise antagonized since the first day of school. Last week he lost his cool when one of the popular kids got in his face and taunted him, calling him names. Mark channeled his pent up rage to his fist and punched the kid, knocking him over and bloodying his nose. A week later, Mark is now one of the most popular kids at school and has a girlfriend.
Perhaps due to the overcrowding and overall inadequacy of the California Public School System (and also the unwritten jr high code that discourages "tattling" when you are attacked by a classmate), neither Shane nor Mark experienced any repercussions from school authorities. However, even if they had, I doubt they would regret their approach, given the results achieved by their single, relatively mild act of violence.
Allow me to point out the subtle difference: In Shane's case, the attack was unprovoked. It was a premeditated maneuver to establish his dominance and avoid being a target. In Mark's case, however, you might say that the other kid "deserved it" - after months of pestering, Mark finally had enough. His reaction was almost animalistic - in the moment - while nonetheless effective. So now that we've established the intent, is Shane's act worse than Mark's?
Maybe this is an obvious yes for some, but I can't seem to wrap my brain around it. Why does it matter whether the act was premeditated? Why do premeditated killers receive a harsher punishment than those who kill in the heat of passion? Our lawmakers have decided that someone who willingly and consciously breaks the law is more dangerous than someone who cannot control his/her impulses. I'm not sure I agree with this determination.
According to mens rea, "the act does not make a person guilty unless the mind be also guilty." So if Mark acted on impulse, he did not have a guilty mind. On the other hand, Shane had intent, though end his goal was not to hurt Dan. I suppose I can agree that Shane's premeditation indicates disregard for the rights of others, and that is not good, but does that make it worse than Mark just "losing it?"
Then there's the question of moral priority and justifiable violence. If the code of teenagers makes being "popular" more important than almost anything, can we blame Shane or Mark for their actions? What other recourse did they have? I originally made the mistake of applying adult logic to this question. But approaches like "use your words" and "kill them with kindness" can rarely be applied successfully in the junior high setting. ("Well, [slap] me with a dictionary, kid. Get beat up much?")
In twisted teenage logic, I think both boys felt they were acting in self-defense, though Shane's strike was more preemptive. If social acceptance is linked to a sense of security (and I believe it is), isn't self-defense a reasonable excuse, even if no real physical danger was present?
Are they simply moral failures because their priorities are out of whack? If so, then at what age do we start demanding that their priorities be in order? Or do we allow moral mismanagement to continue into adulthood, so long as no laws are broken?
Ah, there's that word again. What does it mean to be "right," anyway? Right according to whom? Society? Authorities? God? We have written laws which govern society, but the unwritten laws of that society seem to stick us between a rock and a hard place. I'm not just talking about "societal norms" that serve to distinguish the "normal" people from the rest of us, but also personal and group value systems that fill in any ambiguity. How these systems are formed and whether they are defensible is a fascinating question, but an attempt to answer it would not only be frustrating as hell, it would cause me to digress even further from my point, so I'll leave it alone for now.
If I haven't lost you yet, let me explain. I recently observed two entirely separate incidents which on the surface appear similar, but under further review are actually quite different.
The first was actually a fictional event, a scene on my favorite show involving a group of 6th graders on the first day of school. Shane, one of the show's lead characters, is new at the school and is hoping to escape the ruthless bullying he endured in previous years. His friend Isabelle beseeches him to accept his fate with her words of wisdom: "If only life were a Judd Apatow movie where geeks ruled the world, but it's not, so let's just suck it up." Shane shrugs her off and asks someone who the most popular kid in school is. "Dan" is pointed out. Shane walks over to Dan, introduces himself, and then suddenly smacks him in the face with a lunch tray, knocking him out of him seat. From that point on Shane is feared and admired by everyone at his school.
The second event was related to me by my friend's teenage son (I'll call him Mark), who is also in 6th grade. Mark is a sweet kid and has been bullied, ridiculed and otherwise antagonized since the first day of school. Last week he lost his cool when one of the popular kids got in his face and taunted him, calling him names. Mark channeled his pent up rage to his fist and punched the kid, knocking him over and bloodying his nose. A week later, Mark is now one of the most popular kids at school and has a girlfriend.
Perhaps due to the overcrowding and overall inadequacy of the California Public School System (and also the unwritten jr high code that discourages "tattling" when you are attacked by a classmate), neither Shane nor Mark experienced any repercussions from school authorities. However, even if they had, I doubt they would regret their approach, given the results achieved by their single, relatively mild act of violence.
Allow me to point out the subtle difference: In Shane's case, the attack was unprovoked. It was a premeditated maneuver to establish his dominance and avoid being a target. In Mark's case, however, you might say that the other kid "deserved it" - after months of pestering, Mark finally had enough. His reaction was almost animalistic - in the moment - while nonetheless effective. So now that we've established the intent, is Shane's act worse than Mark's?
Maybe this is an obvious yes for some, but I can't seem to wrap my brain around it. Why does it matter whether the act was premeditated? Why do premeditated killers receive a harsher punishment than those who kill in the heat of passion? Our lawmakers have decided that someone who willingly and consciously breaks the law is more dangerous than someone who cannot control his/her impulses. I'm not sure I agree with this determination.
According to mens rea, "the act does not make a person guilty unless the mind be also guilty." So if Mark acted on impulse, he did not have a guilty mind. On the other hand, Shane had intent, though end his goal was not to hurt Dan. I suppose I can agree that Shane's premeditation indicates disregard for the rights of others, and that is not good, but does that make it worse than Mark just "losing it?"
Then there's the question of moral priority and justifiable violence. If the code of teenagers makes being "popular" more important than almost anything, can we blame Shane or Mark for their actions? What other recourse did they have? I originally made the mistake of applying adult logic to this question. But approaches like "use your words" and "kill them with kindness" can rarely be applied successfully in the junior high setting. ("Well, [slap] me with a dictionary, kid. Get beat up much?")
In twisted teenage logic, I think both boys felt they were acting in self-defense, though Shane's strike was more preemptive. If social acceptance is linked to a sense of security (and I believe it is), isn't self-defense a reasonable excuse, even if no real physical danger was present?
Are they simply moral failures because their priorities are out of whack? If so, then at what age do we start demanding that their priorities be in order? Or do we allow moral mismanagement to continue into adulthood, so long as no laws are broken?
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Answers
What do you do
when you want to go home
but you're not sure where that is?
Do you turn?
Do you turn back?
Do you promenade?
Are you left or right-handed?
What's your sign?
Do you want to dance?
Do you know Jesus
Do you have any grey poipon
Pardon me, sir, but I have one question...
You see I thought for a minute
That you might have an idea
But now as I watch you sitting there
Pretending...
Imparting your words of wisdom
Regarding this or that
Or was it the other thing?
I can't remember anymore
Bringing us back to the point
Which is...
that there have always been
more questions, than answers.
And that is, after all, what we live for.
The answers are always, at least, a pause if not a resolution.
It's always the questions which keep us moving,
which make us wake up in the morning
to pursue the elusive answer.
Sometimes I just wish I could go back to the time
When I didn't know...
Oh, what I wouldn't give to wonder again!
It's the questions we love to love
Answers are so final.
(this was the last poem written in the notebook shared by Kristy & Sharon)
when you want to go home
but you're not sure where that is?
Do you turn?
Do you turn back?
Do you promenade?
Are you left or right-handed?
What's your sign?
Do you want to dance?
Do you know Jesus
Do you have any grey poipon
Pardon me, sir, but I have one question...
You see I thought for a minute
That you might have an idea
But now as I watch you sitting there
Pretending...
Imparting your words of wisdom
Regarding this or that
Or was it the other thing?
I can't remember anymore
Bringing us back to the point
Which is...
that there have always been
more questions, than answers.
And that is, after all, what we live for.
The answers are always, at least, a pause if not a resolution.
It's always the questions which keep us moving,
which make us wake up in the morning
to pursue the elusive answer.
Sometimes I just wish I could go back to the time
When I didn't know...
Oh, what I wouldn't give to wonder again!
It's the questions we love to love
Answers are so final.
(this was the last poem written in the notebook shared by Kristy & Sharon)
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Special
Another gem from the Kristy-Sharon archives...
Moving on...
trying to find
something
to believe in
it's not here.
Is it there?
Is it in the smiling eyes
of a stranger?
Is it in a familiar face?
It must be outside.
How could it be inside me?
In this vacant place
Where no one speaks
And the only sound
Is the breath of the billion stars
Watching over a thousand broken hearts
How did I come to be here?
Why did I choose this vantage point?
And what is the point, after all?
I'm not sure there is one
But that's not to say
That all the things they said
Aren't so
And besides,
they sent flowers.
And remembered my birthday.
And made me feel special.
So here we are, in this place
I think I like it here
But I wonder when I'll stop turning to you
To ask you where we are
Maybe when you don't send me flowers
or remember my birthday
or make me feel special.
Moving on...
trying to find
something
to believe in
it's not here.
Is it there?
Is it in the smiling eyes
of a stranger?
Is it in a familiar face?
It must be outside.
How could it be inside me?
In this vacant place
Where no one speaks
And the only sound
Is the breath of the billion stars
Watching over a thousand broken hearts
How did I come to be here?
Why did I choose this vantage point?
And what is the point, after all?
I'm not sure there is one
But that's not to say
That all the things they said
Aren't so
And besides,
they sent flowers.
And remembered my birthday.
And made me feel special.
So here we are, in this place
I think I like it here
But I wonder when I'll stop turning to you
To ask you where we are
Maybe when you don't send me flowers
or remember my birthday
or make me feel special.
Back in Time...and the Coyote poem
I arrived in Arizona 10 days ago. Since then it's been a whirlwind of old friends, resurrected memories, and personal healing on the deepest of levels. I found several books of poetry from high school and some from my first few years of motherhood. As I prepare to return home to California, I thought I would honor my dear friend Sharon and record our poem, unofficially referred to as "the Coyote poem" here in cyberspace. This was written in 2004, on the patio of our N Phoenix apartment. We passed a notebook back and forth for a few hours, and this poem was the result.
Untitled
by Kristy & Sharon
If the end is just on the other side
and so is the beginning
then where do we start and when do we stop
and what do we do in the middle
And what if the middle is what we were seeking, after all
And then when we finally realize
it's too late and we can't turn back
and we're left with what we began
and we finally hear our voices coming back from the mirror
No! Wait! that's visual (turn the page)
That's all wrong...for in this place
that we've found ourselves in
There is no sight...
There is no sound
It's the void
The empty place
Where only your voice echoes
Like your mother's voice
calling you
home
to dinner
or breakfast
or even the lunch you had no time for
until later
and it's late now
and someone is angry
and you're hungry
and you're home
Have you ever walked into a room
and then forgot what you came for
And for a moment you look around, lost...
And then, you turn
and right there are familiar eyes in a stranger's face
But you know them
And so you stare
Standing there
And stop to fix your hair
Meanwhile avoiding the eyes
That know too much
And yet know nothing about how you came to be here now
And yet
you toss your hair
and smile
(not too broadly)
and seat yourself
with just enough assurance
And then you blink
And it's gone
And everything you thought you knew has left
And you're left staring
Into the eyes that whisper
So softly you can barely hear
And you tilt your head
Because someone once said
You can hear better at an angle
But when you close your eyes and listen...
Suddenly you are once again aware
So you sit up straight
And you blink
I feel you tonight.
The liars and the thieves are still awake, somewhere
But I feel you.
And even though you aren't saying a word
(which is rare)
I hear you speaking to me from somewhere
Calling me out...
Calling me down
Calling me up
Calling
Like coyotes calling.
Calling me to the mountain
For dinner
or breakfast
or lunch
And I'm hungry
And I might be in trouble
And I'm scared
Will you hold me?
And will you kiss away all my fears?
Because someday you'll be here
Close enough to know that all these tears
Were not for you, or for the liars nor the thieves
But still I cry
And I know you're out there calling
Calling me
Calling me up
Calling me down
Calling me to breakfast
or dinner
but I'm late for lunch
And someone is angry
and I'm frightened
and I'm hungry
And I want to go home
I'm sitting down to dinner
or breakfast or lunch
And I look out the window
And see a coyote, smiling
And I know his teeth
smiling
And I know all the teeth
smiling
And he knows I know
And we smile
Because he's hungry
and I'm smiling
And then he blinks
And my smile fades
And I can't believe what I'm seeing
And his eyes flash
And he knows I know
And he smiles
And I know he'll turn and run
with his ears turned back
smiling
And I will always see him running
with his ears turned back
and his teeth
smiling
And I hear him
And he's smiling.
And he has run away
smiling
But he'll be back
And so I sit and wait
Staring once again into the eyes of the familiar stranger
Those eyes, strangely familiar
And the silence is so thick
it's smothering
And I can't hear
And I can't see
But I think I know something...
And I think it's this...
I'm late
And
I'm hungry
And
I'm frightened
And
I'm home.
So this is the end
or the beginning
or the middle
I'm not sure
But I know enough
not to blink while I'm smiling
Untitled
by Kristy & Sharon
If the end is just on the other side
and so is the beginning
then where do we start and when do we stop
and what do we do in the middle
And what if the middle is what we were seeking, after all
And then when we finally realize
it's too late and we can't turn back
and we're left with what we began
and we finally hear our voices coming back from the mirror
No! Wait! that's visual (turn the page)
That's all wrong...for in this place
that we've found ourselves in
There is no sight...
There is no sound
It's the void
The empty place
Where only your voice echoes
Like your mother's voice
calling you
home
to dinner
or breakfast
or even the lunch you had no time for
until later
and it's late now
and someone is angry
and you're hungry
and you're home
Have you ever walked into a room
and then forgot what you came for
And for a moment you look around, lost...
And then, you turn
and right there are familiar eyes in a stranger's face
But you know them
And so you stare
Standing there
And stop to fix your hair
Meanwhile avoiding the eyes
That know too much
And yet know nothing about how you came to be here now
And yet
you toss your hair
and smile
(not too broadly)
and seat yourself
with just enough assurance
And then you blink
And it's gone
And everything you thought you knew has left
And you're left staring
Into the eyes that whisper
So softly you can barely hear
And you tilt your head
Because someone once said
You can hear better at an angle
But when you close your eyes and listen...
Suddenly you are once again aware
So you sit up straight
And you blink
I feel you tonight.
The liars and the thieves are still awake, somewhere
But I feel you.
And even though you aren't saying a word
(which is rare)
I hear you speaking to me from somewhere
Calling me out...
Calling me down
Calling me up
Calling
Like coyotes calling.
Calling me to the mountain
For dinner
or breakfast
or lunch
And I'm hungry
And I might be in trouble
And I'm scared
Will you hold me?
And will you kiss away all my fears?
Because someday you'll be here
Close enough to know that all these tears
Were not for you, or for the liars nor the thieves
But still I cry
And I know you're out there calling
Calling me
Calling me up
Calling me down
Calling me to breakfast
or dinner
but I'm late for lunch
And someone is angry
and I'm frightened
and I'm hungry
And I want to go home
I'm sitting down to dinner
or breakfast or lunch
And I look out the window
And see a coyote, smiling
And I know his teeth
smiling
And I know all the teeth
smiling
And he knows I know
And we smile
Because he's hungry
and I'm smiling
And then he blinks
And my smile fades
And I can't believe what I'm seeing
And his eyes flash
And he knows I know
And he smiles
And I know he'll turn and run
with his ears turned back
smiling
And I will always see him running
with his ears turned back
and his teeth
smiling
And I hear him
And he's smiling.
And he has run away
smiling
But he'll be back
And so I sit and wait
Staring once again into the eyes of the familiar stranger
Those eyes, strangely familiar
And the silence is so thick
it's smothering
And I can't hear
And I can't see
But I think I know something...
And I think it's this...
I'm late
And
I'm hungry
And
I'm frightened
And
I'm home.
So this is the end
or the beginning
or the middle
I'm not sure
But I know enough
not to blink while I'm smiling
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