Famous Last Words Part 2

Growth.....A poem for Emma (Revised 2014)


I wish this was a monster in the closet or goblin under her bed,
Or a dragon I could slay for my princess instead,
I’d be her knight in shining armor, Uncle Joe to the rescue,
I’d tell her not to worry, and then I’d know just what to do,

But those are the fairy tales we teach to our kids,
I am not prepared to discover the real monsters do exist,
The truth is,

It’s been a little over a year since she came into my life,
Everyday a blessing,
Now I watch her fight for more years to add to that life,
Everyday a real blessing,

The misery of a parent’s sorrow flows though my veins,
Multiplying, cell upon cell, as it eats away,
Poison that kills its only cure,
As the locks of sunny hair fall murdered to the floor,

Her father, my brother, the better half of me,
I watch. He holds back a dam of sadness,
God is good; God is great, praise the lord!
For he has saved me from the ability to intervene,

She smiles, she giggles, as I hold back my rage,
Miracles grin, they laugh, as they escape my grip,
These hands that can crush earth are of no use to me,

When I am alone, I sit at home, and remember,
Her second day at school, her second dance, her second this, her second that,
Seconds that will never happen without her firsts,

So I cry, I do, I cry, I shed the memories from my eyes,

Losing her is........ like losing my very own,
Since her first breath I’ve seen her grow,
Now I can’t look at her face because I’m too weak,
To her parents, I can’t speak the warm embrace that words can bring,

There is nothing I can do; I’m as useless as wishing on a star
Yet faithfully I still pray,
“Let me pay for my sins, take me instead, PLEASE! just let her stay,”

I’d gladly let the poison enter my body if it would set her free,
Vomit in buckets happily for her even if it put me in a box,
Lose all my hair and smile if she could keep her locks....have her first class, dance, this, that,
Beat this cancer for her; I’d do it for us both,
All for a princess without a growth….

Famous Last Words Part 1

I have always liked writing.

At the end of last semester I received an email from my Poetry Professor. This was one of the most horrible emails I had ever received. In the email the professor lobbed personal attacks towards me, and the worst part of all is that it was done under the guise of being an attempt to give me feedback. After reading the letter I have to be quite honest in saying that I almost decided to bring this professor to the board for her hate filled letter but, after conversations with other professors and students I decided to just let it go because sometimes it is best to turn the other cheek and move on. I don't wanna speak ill of anyone so that is all I will say about the letter.

The reason I brought it up was because the letter was not the first time someone in life has made cruel remarks towards me. My entire life I have always been the type of person that people either loved or hated. People that love me, really love me, and people that hate me, really hate me. There is no middle ground, and for some reason people always feel the need to express their dislike of me, to me in some form or another. Most times the hate is irrational and I actually understand it. I'm a big guy, with a loud voice, that talks with his hands, and is willing to argue a point, but I am not a malicious person. In fact I'm the type of person that when I do hurt someone's feelings, or anger someone it bothers me. At the same time even though these people do hate me I myself have no ill will to anyone. The reason I feel the need to express all this is because I know what it is like to be judged by people that have no idea about who I truly am and no nothing of my character.

I have always liked writing. It is the one place where I feel that I am given the fair chance to express myself without being judged on how I look, or the loudness of my voice. I love seeing people who know me read something I have put on paper and watching the look on their faces when they realize that I am a person with a warm heart, and that even though I walk like I own the world and am completely unaware of the plight of my fellow man, that in fact that is just a facade I put up. When I write I get to put my heart on to paper in poetry, show my empathy in my stories, and just finally be myself, which is the most crazy thing of all. It is in my writing where people can finally find me and discover who I am and yet they couldn't pick me out of a crowd.

So for the remainder of the semester my Famous last words will be some of my writing starting here in week 2 in part 2 of the famous last words with a poem....most weeks I will do a two part post, one will be the writing and part two will be a kind of chicken noodle soup for your soul type of thing about the writing. Enjoy part two.

Story Telling Week 2

Joshua Peavey Destroys the Universes

Carina Nebula From the Hubble Telescope wikipedia

Ever had one of those days that nothing makes sense, and then something happens and everything makes sense but nothing seems to make sense. I hate this place, there is nothing but empty space, and the birds, I should have listened to the birds. Now I got this rock under my foot, and a bunch of empty space to look at, just Joe and his empty space. I'm sorry, what was I saying, oh yeah the day. The day that the universes were destroyed leaving just this empty space. Empty space and Joe for the last sixty thousand years. Let's go back a little.

Picture of newborn uploaded by teadrinker web source flickr.com

No not that far...

Personal Photo from files

Okay that seems right.

It was a hot July day in Shawnee Oklahoma, and I was late for work. It was ok, I had been late most days since I started at the car lot a few months ago, although really time doesn't seem to hold the same meaning to me as it did once, but I'll get to that, anyway so I was pulling into the car lot and Jason was standing in his normal spot at the entrance. It seemed like that guy never moved. There were rumors that he was once a lady's man, but that must have been a long time ago because now he just looked like a he was sunburned flesh in a cheap suit and sunglasses. He never took off his sunglasses and come to think of it he never came inside. Rumor has it that he made Chad, the general manager, mad at him one day and every since he was forced to sit out in the sun to greet customers, though I have never heard him say a word.

After parking my car I walked into the showroom floor, it was a lucky day because Brian the sales manager was not in the building. Brian was an imposing guy, with a temper that was pretty short, most days he spent his time yelling threats about firing people rather than doing any actual managing. His brother Phil, the finance manager, though less imposing, was not much better with his people skills.

As I walked into my office and sat down at my desk the picture of a family hanging up on my wall fell. It didn't really matter to me that the picture fell except that now when I had a customer I couldn't use the picture of the family to relate to them.

Family Picture by pudgeefeet websource flickr.com

The family in the picture was not mine, I didn't have any family, but sometimes when I was sitting in my chair I would make up stories about the people in the picture. I used to pretend that the man in the photo was my dad and the woman was my step mom. I even named them and gave the three boys in the picture back stories. There was Bart, the oldest son from my dad's first marriage, and Kirk and Lance the two middle sons. Kirk and Lance were twins. I of course was my dad's bastard child from an affair he had with my mother so I didn't live with them. Trust me these little games I played in my mind helped me pass the time.

Around noon I left my office to go outside to have a smoke. This was part of my daily ritual, after my smoke I would usually go to lunch and then come back to work and try to find a car to take a nap in without anyone noticing. Later I would find out that having a strict ritual would have dire consequences, but for now I was unaware. Today my meditation was interrupted by a flock of birds.

Picture of a crow by minicooper93402 websource Flickr.com

These stupid birds, why didn't I listen to these stupid birds, they were telling me the entire time what not to do, but I wouldn't listen, they just sounded like a bunch of cawing to me. So much cawing that I just went back inside without finishing my smoke.

It had been hot outside so I went to the break room and grabbed a bottled water. It was Todd's water, I know this because it was clearly labeled as his with a note that read, "Do Not Drink," though I ignored it. I just untwisted the top and tilted the bottle up to quench my thirst. If Todd got upset I would just replace it. I may be a lot of things but I am not a thief, and apparently I was walking into the break room, no wait I was opening the refridgerator, was that me drinking Todd's water. What were the birds saying? Oh I hate this part this is where it all goes black. There I go, I pass out. Don't judge me, the human brain is not made to be flooded with all the knowledge of the universes in an instant. My brain was overloaded. I'm not even sure what happened, I only just now came back to my senses, well not just now but a few minutes ago, before you were just a rock but now you're here so just relax, and I will explain how Joshua Peavey destroyed the universes.

From Hubble Telescope owner Nasa websoure address https://www.flickr.com/photos/gsfc/4444869951/

Author's Notes: 

Ok so this story may seem like it is has nothing to do with the story we are reading and it may seem like a jumbled mess, but stay with me. This is the begining of a longer story that will tie into Indian Epics we are reading. Though you will have to read the entire story not just a part of it in order for it to make more sense but trust me if you stay with me hopefully the pay off will be worth the investment. I can no tell you much more without spoiling the ending but this was inspired by the week 2.

Bibliography
Narayan, R. K. A Shortened Modern Prose Version of the Indian Epic. London: Penguin Classics, 2006.