Untitled: In Response To GPS Devices Now Used In Some American Schools (Poem)

What's the big deal

If the officials require the students to wear student ID badges
with RFID, GPS tracking abilities

so that the AUTHORITIES can know where the students are
every second of every day
watching them like blips on a computer monitor?
What's the big deal?
Some students claim they have a right to privacy.
Privacy? On school grounds? I though we established that they have no right
to privacy with the long tradition of mandatory searches without warrants!
Some parents claim it violates their religious freedom having to wear the mark of the beast.
Come on...I thought it was made clear that in this land of free religion they have no religious rights in schools!
which is why you can't say the C word, the H word or the Q word during the holidays.
And in case it isn't self-evident enough
I thought we already accepted
as a culture
a long, long time ago
that children must go to school school
whether they want to or not
forced by the law.
and that when in school
they must be watched closely by authorities
must do exactly what they are told to do by the authorities.
They are not allowed to wander freely without the authorities
Must move only when the bell tells them to move
and only in directions determined by the authorities.
Must eat only when and where they are told to eat...by the authorities
Must ask permission to go to the bathroom and not take too much time doing their business or risk punishment by the authorities
They are forced to exercises but only in certain times and certain ways dictated by...an authority.
They must read not what they want to read but what they are told to read...by the authorities.
They are denied free speech and encouraged to forgo the right of critical thinking.
And their press-the student newspaper must be approved by the authorities.
In classes, their thoughts and ideas are graded according to the degree to which they match the official views
of the authorities.
Students accused of an offense are permitted no due process—no trial, no legal recourse—their fate is decided solely by...the authorities.
And voting? Of course students are allowed to vote--for homecoming king and queen!
Unless of course they have committed some major offense such as refusing to wear a tracking device
Like in John Jay High or Anson Jones Middle School where their rights to vote were taken away by
the authorities.
So let them wear the GPS trackers
and make them wear uniforms
I recommend bright orange
and serial numbers
just so those whiney saps who complain about rights
and privacy can stop complaining and finally
admit and accept the school system for what it is
a prison.

I, The Undead

A poetic commentary on the "wisdom" of conventional lifestyles. 
__________________________________________________________

They always said the impending Zombie apocalypse
would occur
when no one saw it coming.
I certainly didn’t
I don’t remember dying,
But I do remember living.
I remember the beaches and swimming,
I remember the forests and camping,
I remember hiking, sky diving,
martial arts.
I remember when I had the power in my legs,
the endurance in my lungs to charge up the hillside at full speed
to catch the football
thrown to me by my equally capable comrade from over 30
yards off.
No more.
Now I see bloodshot eyes in the mirror,
mutilations, deformities creeping along my body,
the crooked bones in my fingers that once upon a time could
stand those eight hour shifts at the computer
the arch forming in my backbone to match the shape of the low
budget chair
I see it in my aimless walk
the back and forth waddle
half asleep, half awake,
not really either,
A little of both, perhaps?
The scientist’s stimulators not working:
give the monster a monster,
that shot should give him a boost for 5 hours!
Will work immediately!
--It doesn’t work,
and the natural sleep naturally broken by the patterns that form,
that the body gets used to.
How much longer until the transformation is complete?
How much longer until my arm shakes at nothing more than the
weight of a quart of milk—unable to bear the burden of less
than a pound?
How much longer until my legs stop functioning at a pick up
and step pace?
How much longer until I no longer question how much longer,
and take the place amongst the rest of the zombie horde below
ground where the tunnels make the paths that lead them onward
even after they have all but forgotten why?
I don’t remember dying,
but I am no longer living,
“Life” sucked the life out of me,
and here I walk, forward, half asleep, half awake,
bloodshot eyes,
I, the undead.

___________________________________________________

This poem appeared in Voice of The Bards
www.localgemspoetrypress.com/bookstore.html

The Cure Mentality

How often do you hear it?
The cry as intense as a congregation to their preacher,
A message mixed into every other fundraising campaign,
Pamphlet,
Shout out for research-grants
And every attempt to appeal to the quick fix dreams of those
Who are disadvantaged.

We need a cure!
A cure for autism!A cure to help those totally abnormal kids become normal.
A cure against nature,
If they invented one for polio why can’t they invent one for this?
And how many…
How many…
How many people
Flock to this calling?
There are a couple of things
I would want to know first,
Before I jumped on this ill-conceived band-wagon.
What exactly is it that is being cured?
The spectrum of autism has grown exponentially
Periodically
What you would have called quirky in the 60s is now autistic
Introverted is now Aspergers
Quiet now antisocial,
Neuro-typical is now A-typical
Anyone who makes their way to a psych-evaluation will be evaluated as
having 1-3 disorders because those in that profession are trained to see
What they expect to see
And I want to know how you find a cure
For a line in the sand
Arbitrarily drawn by who knows who
From who knows where
And how do you expect to ever cure
What it is you can’t even define?
But despite this all, I do I agree
We do need a cure.
We need a cure for ignorance,
Ignorance by those who would presume to make decisions for an entire
population without being educated as to their needs.
We need a cure for labels
The notion that one characteristic of a personality means one is disabled.
We need a cure for the viewpoint
That those who don’t do as well in the artificial construct of a culture with
arbitrary rules and regulations are somehow inferior.
We need a cure, for the lack of compassion.
We need a cure for the concept that a cure is the answer--The notion that the
next new pill, the daring new breakthrough will some how bring an answer
Simple-wrapped in a box that will take this burden off our shoulders
because humans have been burdened since the dawn of time
And humans have been waiting for an easy solution
And humans have invented everything that could be imagined or couldn’t be
imagined
And now they have everything that they always said they always wanted
And still manage to find a way to be miserable
And blame the person to the left or the right
for why things aren’t just fine and dandy.
We still haven’t cured the sick
We still haven’t fed the hungry
We still haven’t used our shiny little tools to bring happiness.
Why play doctor
Why imagine ailments in people
Why try to practice medicine
When you don’t even understand the concept of disease
If we are all so concerned about making a strong lasting
Mentally healthy society
Why don’t we start focusing on our own
mental
physical
and spiritual Health
first.___________________________________________________________________

This was published in Perspectives, Poetry Concerning Autism and Other Disabilities Volume 2.
www.perspectivesanthology.com

Me And Sandy (Hurricane Sandy Poem)

This is the poem I wrote for the anthology Songs Of Sandy, it will be read live at the live event on January 19th 2013 at the Walt Whitman Birthplace to raise money to donate to Sandy Relief.
www.songsofsandy.weebly.com for more information.

____________________________________________________________________________

After reinforcing
the doors and windows
and everything else around the house
we waited for the storm.
We had no need for the hunt
The emergency supply hunt panic
as our house was well stocked
—almost too stocked
well before her name was ever spoken.
As the rain picked up and the wind got more intense
I spent the first night in my basement, finishing
work on the internet
watching ye old episodes of the Mighty Morphing
Power Rangers
on DVD
relishing the power while it was still there.
Attempting to prepare to be separated from it indefinitely.
Flashlights, walky talkies,
stack of books to my right,
I was set to lose power.
And we did—like we expected to.
I spent the first half hour writing a poem,
Before long,
I jumped onto my manual exercise bike
and started reading chapter after chapter of
the Game of Thrones series to candlelight.
"This isn't so bad, nice to have a break
from all that noise online." I thought
as I started playing old fashioned Pokemon on my battery powered Gameboy advanced
(which isn't so advanced anymore, but still fun.)
I went to bed around midnight
After 5 or 6 hours with no power.
When I woke up the next day around 9 in the morning,
the lights were on, the television, the internet,
everything had been restored to me
as if it went on a brief vacation.
For me, personally, the hurricane
was a mere inconvenience.
But for others...
for friends and family members
and fellow human beings
it was much, much
worse.
Houses washed away
Family treasures lost
Flooding up the streets, no power
no food, no rescue for the injured
for untold amounts of time in some cases.
Dozens dead—and this, just in the US
As the media vastly overlooks the devastation
in the other parts of the world.
And as I see the images of the houses under water,
the homes collapsed
the people whose lives
have been turned upside down
by mother nature,
I also see the newsfeed on facebook
Where people my age are complaining
about being without power for an hour
and how "miserable" this makes their lives.
I wonder if any of them realize
that for thousands of years we had no power
I wonder if any of them realize
that millions and millions in this world today
still live without those luxuries
I wonder if any of them
could put themselves into the shoes
of those who had lost
so much
and I wondered if any of them
even had the foresight
or the wisdom
to even bother
to try.

A Cultural Cancer (In Response To Sandy Hook)

I read this at a poetry event yesterday and everyone wanted a copy. So I decided to post this here. No, I am not defending guns in this poem--merely saying that in my opinion that gun control is just the frosting on a cake of problems that led to this tragedy and I'd like to see some of the other problems get as much attention. I could be wrong.

________________________________________________________________________________
Fighting a shooting
with gun control
is like fighting cancer with a wig
it feels good, looks good and is cheap
but ignores the fact that you are being eaten
from the inside out.
And as I look the reactions to the shooting
the fact that so many have made this about gun law
the fact that the media tries to blame this shooting on autism
the fact that the picture of the killer is on the front page
ten times as often as the pictures of the victims or their families
the fact that this killer who i refuse to give a name will be a household name
rather than the teacher who shielded her students from the bullets with her body
the fact that no one remembers in the amnesia of the human race that every time
something like this happens
these same debates
this same anger
this same bickering
and sometimes new laws pass
sometimes they don't
but by the end of it all
the energy and time and words that could have been used
to help create a culture more about compassion
and understanding, one that listens
one that takes away the stress
one like the rest of the first world that also has our guns
our violent movies, our violent video games
yet a fraction of our shootings and murders because they also have
community, and caring and a friendship and family
hearts and minds that are on the same page
prevention rather than penalty
knowing that love and now laws changes lives,
is all but drained in our haste to speak
rather than think.
Who is really thinking about those kids
who is really thinking about the kids of now and the kids of tomorrow
in a world where we act like we are the last generations that will ever see the fact of this Earth
leaving nothing to anyone after us
putting mounting pressure into every facet of our days with our 80 hour workweeks
get up and go not stop and think not stop and talk
double DVD set in the mini vans so the mom can be on the phone while driving and the kids can be distracted by Sponge bob and Dora
never having a relationship
never learning who your children are
never knowing what they want
what they need
never connecting
everyone connected with Facebook and twitter and iPhones and iPads
but never connected
everything fleeting
hearts bleeding
and you seriously think taking away a few more guns is the answer to this cancer
that has infected our day to day lives?
Newsflash, for the news:
we are all to blame when something like this happens.

And no amount of gun control
lawsuits
prison time
new laws
restrictions
anger
bickering
or bullshit
is going to bring those 20 children back
or stop the next 20 from dying
if we don't take off the f*cking wig
and start treating this cancer.

Re-Watching Power Rangers

My childhood was filled with the wonder that was
the Mighty Morphing Power Rangers
When the fever of nostalgia for a time long gone hits me
and hits me hard
I find myself indulging in my old VHS tapes,
DVD sets
and searching the Internet to relive the wonder of the early episodes
and I see...

I see the evil villain Rita Repulsa
and I see many a thing wrong with her evil plots.
Why the heck does she only send one monster at a time?
Why does she only attack the one city of angle grove? The one the power rangers live in?
And why does she always make her monsters grow when she should know the Megazord
is just going to spank them?

I see two bullies, Bulk and Skull
who would about as effective as two red hot chili peppers
trying to melt the ice caps if they ever tried to be bullies an actual school.

I see very harmless evil henchmen in the form of the Putti Patrol who never seem to attack anyone other
than the power rangers
and could probably be beaten up by a poodle.
And of course I see no sign of any police or military during any of these conflicts at all.

Breaking the fourth wall, I see and laugh at at the horrible editing, trying to splice together all that stock
footage from the Super Sentai show in Japan,
I see unrealistic action,
I see bad lighting
I see monsters that are OBVIOUSLY puppets,
I see horrible plot-holes,
ridiculous logic,
And the opening credits that happen to be one of my guiltiest pleasures
After all these years I still can't help but get up and dance to.

And yet, I see more...

In every episode
I see an unlikely group of a dancer, a jock, a cheerleader, a geeky brain an exotic overachiever
and later on a bad boy as best friends, in a very politically correct fashion.
And I see them all...working together.
I see them at the Youth Center teaching classes to children
I see them at school, organizing drives to save the environment,
I see them starting multi-cultural food festivals to raise money for playground equipment
I see them designing floats for parades for world peace
I see them working to improve their minds, bodies and spirits, by helping their community,
helping others, and working together for a better tomorrow.

And now,
I look at the shows on television...and I see...
Better and more realistic giant robots
better graphics,
greatly improved fighting choreography
scarier villains with more worthwhile plots
better logic
better video editing
better sets, props, lighting,
with far, far, far
inferior
spirits.
I see none of the somewhat naive yet hopeful encouragement of the 90's to
go out and be part of something better.
No push to help each other, or our communities.
In so many cases, I see no substance at all.

How could we have advanced so far
in every way imaginable
so much since then
and gone completely backwards in the one and only way that really matters?

What happened to the mighty morphing power rangers?
What happened to working together to save the world?
What happened to looking towards the future for a better tomorrow?

What happened?

The Missing Bread

This is a sample poem from my upcoming book

"The Customer is Often Wrong."

Even though the book is a poetic comedy act--I do believe that there is a serious philosophy to be had in the argument against the customer being always right--it has created a culture of abused workers and customers who get rewarded for stamping their feet like children. The good customer gets no recognition either--there is more incentive to be a complainer than to be well-mannered. Even though this book is meant to be funny, there is a serious undertone as well that I hope makes it through.

_________________________________________________________________________
“Can I get a large loaf of white bread?”
“We're out of bread right now.”
“Out of bread?”
“Yes, out of bread.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“How can you be out of bread?”
“Well...people just kept asking for it, we kept selling it,
and then we didn't get anymore in.”
“Could I get a small loaf of white bread, then?”
“Ma'am, we are out of all kinds of bread, not just the large loaf.”
“Do you have any whole wheat bread?”
“No Ma'am.”
“How about a small whole wheat?”
“Nope.”
“Any Multi-Grain?”
“No ma'am, we are OUT of bread Have none.”
“Are you sure?”
“I'm sure.”
“Maybe a raisin bread?”
“Ma'am, we have no bread, at ALL.”
“Not even a rye bread?”
“No rye, no white, no whole wheat—we have no bread whatsoever in the store at all,
of any kind at all.”
“Could you check the back?”
“There is no back, what you see on these shelves is what we have.
And as you can see, they are empty.”
“Hmmm...” she says finally as if in deep thought.
“Yeah, sorry about that.”
“That's alright...I really came here for milk anyway.”
You cross your fingers and pray to God that that you haven't sold out of milk as well.