Hallway to Nowhere

Category: society

  • I Have Never Been A Girl (Poem)

    we fought a silent war in a battlefield that changed

    sometimes clothing, sometimes names, sometimes behavior

    the ground remained the same

    she said I was a girl though disdained me for a daughter

    I knew I was not, had always known, refused to back down

    that was really what she hated, that I would not be quiet

    her campaign became scorched earth

    since she could not win, she would simply destroy

    to prove herself right, she threw me to harm

    a girl can have horrible things done by horrible boys

    a girl can have terrible things done by terrible men

    still I talked and said what they did, what they were allowed to do

    a girl can be told that she makes things up and worse

    a girl can be told that everything was her own fault

    I was not the girl she tried to make me become

    I walked away after all they did and all she said

    I found my own place in the world

    they/their/them

  • Burst (Poem)

    from behind the grey steel bars he gave his heart to the sky

    untethered without any strings not even the faint thread of hope

    it burned there for a time brighter than the atomic sun

    shining with all the many dreams he gathered

    the stories we told him the lives we wished for our children

    like him with no official warning-

    though we all knew this would happen

    it died with one final burst of light

    the soldier’s bullet that passed through it

    cried in futile sorrow as it fell to earth

    the tattered shreds of our destroyed future

    drift through the clouds

  • Pride (Poem)

    They caught a glimpse

    Of our rainbow-hued world

    The way we breathed more easily

    By being here together

    How our eyes reflected the glitter of drag

    In irridescent tears

    How our voices threw off the ever-present caution

    We assume in other company

    How our laughter bounced off the walls

    While we danced through the night

    How we wrote our stories in bright chalk

    When we knew they were temporary

    (They walk over them the next day

    To erase our words as always)

    This is all we have, an evening hidden by careful description

    A morning hour carved from someone else’s time

    A piece of pavement borrowed from a storefront

    Still we remain

    We are here

    And we don’t care if you get used to us

  • Fires & Floods (Poem)

    The fires await in the world to come.

    But no, the land already burns.

    Beware the floods foretold to sweep the land.

    How so, when mountainsides now wash away?

    Some gleefully add to the flaming pyre,

    Dancing as the ashes scatter on the wind.

    Some open the pipes to add to the waters’ rise,

    Taking axes to the few available boats.

    We want to stare in horror, as they hasten our demise.

    No time for this luxury. No time for reckoning.

    We can only save what we can.

    The task is hard. The hour is upon us.

    Take my outstretched hand; likewise extend yours to another.

  • Prediction (Poem)

    Beat. Beat. Beat.

    They bang their drums.

    They fly their flags.

    They plant their cross.

    And all the while,

    Amongst them we walk.

    Some of us are afraid.

    Some of us are angry.

    All of us are threatened.

    We are not them and thus targets.

    We resist in different ways.

    But we are all screaming from the battlements.

    Even if we can only whisper.

    And should our voices all die,

    Remember this:

    They will not live forever.

    They have children.

    Some of these will pick up stones.

    They will hear our cries within these.

    And they will start throwing.

  • Small Gods (Poem)

    I don’t care about your potentate in the heavens.

    Tell me instead about these, the lesser deities:

    Who watch over the weary riders on public transit.

    Who guard the rough walkers of the hidden hours.

    Who consider the disregarded workers in menial jobs.

    Divinities not housed in marbled churches

    To be addressed by ministers in flowing garb.

    Their presence is found in more common spaces.

    The hard plastic seats of the bus.

    The crumbling tarmac on the roadside.

    The bloodied floor of the meat-packing plant.

    No soaring hymns with organ

    That are sung by an amplified choir.

    Only brief prayers of plea and praise.

    Oh lord, let me get home.

    My god, they almost hit me.

    Thank goodness, this day is done.

    Their offerings come not in gilt plates

    Passed amongst the monied hands.

    A glance with a fellow passenger.

    A smile thrown into a car window.

    A greeting on the way out the door.

    Sing love, peace, and goodness

    And bless the small gods.

  • It’s Time To Stop Saying “Senseless Shooting”

    After reading about 2 mass shootings in 2 different cities within 13 hours with a total of 29 people dead, I want to suggest that it is now way past time to stop calling these “senseless shootings”. From the virulent anti-immigrant manifesto penned by El Paso shooter, it is quite obvious that this was done for a very specific reason. It was calculated to target, kill, and further inspire terror in the greater Hispanic community at large and (he hoped) encourage them to flee the country.  Not random and not senseless. The motives for the Dayton, Ohio shooter were not as clearly or as neatly laid out, but it is known that he made out a hit list earlier.  So he definitely had this on on his mind. It also was not a random, senseless act, even if those killed were. The act itself was planned.

    A mass shooting takes forethought. It requires that you gain access to the weapons, conceal the weapons, and bring the weapons to the venue where the killing will take place. This in itself is prima facie evidence that that mass shootings cannot be termed “senseless”. YOU might not get why someone does such an act, but there is always a reason. And lately? It is tied up somehow with politics. I’m getting really fed up with the “thoughts and prayers” response. I mean sure, DO THAT, but also pass EFFECTIVE GUN CONTROL LAWS WITH TEETH, TOO!

  • Why Appalachia Needs Immigrants

    The following is a repost of a LTE I had published recently in the Bristol Herald Courier. I could have made a much more nuanced argument but for brevity’s sake decided to K-I-S-S.

    The other day I overheard a person (white older male) comment that that he was tired of seeing all these immigrants coming in and stealing jobs away from good, hard-working Americans and he esp. didn’t want any of them around HERE! I felt compelled then to answer him in this letter. Sir, have you noticed that the population of SWVA is shrinking? We are losing folks, not gaining them. The young people are leaving, by and large, and it is the habit of old people to die. That alone would seem a rather good reason to be welcoming immigrants, not discouraging them. And, let me say, they are indeed NOT taking jobs away from hard-working Americans. Have you seen any immigrants lazing around the streets or just hanging out at a coffee shop? I’d hazard a guess not. Chances are the immigrants you HAVE seen have most likely been working harder than many Americans would at the jobs they have and doing them very efficiently while learning a new language, to boot. Think about that the next time you talk about stealing jobs. And have you SEEN all the “help wanted” signs out? Americans aren’t lining up for these jobs. Finally, and I can’t believe I’m having to say this, WE ARE ALL IMMIGRANTS, indigenous inhabitants excepted (and they too originally walked from somewhere else). It’s just a matter of when did we get here? The United States was founded by immigrants; it has traditionally welcomed immigrants; and that has long been a source of pride and strength for this nation. It can be for APPALACHIA, too. If we let it.

    		 a

     
  • Standing On The Edge Of A Cliff

    Standing On The Edge Of A Cliff

    This entry won’t get posted to any of my other social media. I’ve learned that no-one wants to hear about depression. I don’t blame them. People have their own IRL problems-illness, family things, plumbing, what have you, that they are dealing with. So I’m just going to keep it here. If someone reads it, fine. IF not, that’s cool too. I’m writing b/c I have no fucking mental health care any longer and this is now my outlet.

    I am dealing with major depression. Whaleshit depression, we used to call it back on a site I used to frequent that is no longer extant. That’s the worst kind, when you are in the darkest depths of depression. You aren’t suicidal, b/c that takes TOO MUCH ENERGY. I mean, yeah, it would be NICE IF IT HAPPENED, but I ain’t gonna do anything about it at this point. I can hardly do ADLS right now. Besides, I have the lovely Miss P, who does depend on me. She is currently my tether to this world. (A big burden to place upon a 26 pound whippet, I know.) But if something were to happen to her, I would be MUCH more motivated to finally jump. I’m just SO tired of this.

    What has triggered this latest round? Well, aside from usual odd seasonal SAD-related depression that comes on with springtime and the lengthening days (yep-you read that correctly), I’ve had some erstwhile friends do unfortunate acts that have triggered reverberations. Through a series of mishaps involving cracked ribs on my part and me being out of touch for a bit, I evidently offended one and then the other, so that now both are no longer friends with me. Neither would accept my apology or believe this had been anything other than intentional. At least that’s what I THINK occurred. They both ghosted me at the same time, won’t talk to me, so I’m left to conjecture. But this has been very hurtful for me. And I have to encounter one of these dudes on a regular basis at the FM twice a week. Goodness knows what he’s said to other folks about me. Luckily, I’ve been here a LOT longer than HE has. But this has me re-thinking my whole “make new friends” policy. Ugh.

    In case anyone is thinking of telling me I need to talk to someone, I know. I’VE TRIED TO FIND MENTAL HEALTH HELP. My doc, who is truly a wonder among physicians, has been trying for several years to find me help. But the problem is: I don’t have Medicaid. OR great private insurance or resources. All I have is Medicare and a very limited income. Which effectively cuts me out being  of able to -FIND PDoc; GET to Pdoc, if s/he’s out of town (don’t drive due to seizures); FIND therapist; AFFORD therapist, even if I could find one.

    I don’t want to talk to someone who is waaay younger than I am. IF I’ve had more therapy in my lifetime than you’ve been alive (and could probably teach you a thing or two), then really, what’s the point? No offense to millennials or GenZ folk intended here. I just want to talk to someone who’s been around the block. Of course, this narrows an already small field. Fuck. Who am I kidding? There IS no field. I’ve knocked my head against brick walls in this place til it’s bloody. There comes a point where you say, “Enough.” And just give up. That’s what this blog represents. This is me giving  up seeking help. I’m not trying anymore. I see that, given my (lack of) resources, I do not GET TO HAVE MENTAL HEALTH CARE HERE.  So thank you, insurance company (United Health Care) for making it a fucking “specialist” visit EVERY single time I want to see a therapist. (I tried to appeal this. HAH! Do they not understand how mental health care WORKS???) Thank you, mass transit, for not making transit available for those who need to go to docs outside of this town. (Hello, ADA?) And finally, not being sarcastic here, thank you everyone who HAS tried to help. I appreciate it more than you know.

  • Cursing In Latin

    Cursing In Latin

    I was a Classics Major back in the day as an undergrad. When Cheeto Jesus got elected, I amused myself by hurling imprecations at him in Latin and Greek and the occasional Shakespearean reference for good measure. STILL didn’t manage to get banned from his Twitterfeed. A friend pointed out that I was totally batting over his head-the fool probably thought I was COMPLIMENTING him. Sigh. I miss having a literate POTUS.

    My favorite Latin curse: Te odeo. Interface te cochleare! (I hate you. Kill yourself with a spoon!) Appeals to my morbid sense of whimsy. My second fav: Initam te  coniutarati in foro interficiant! (May conspirators assassinate you in the mall!) My third fav (b/c it is so useful): Futue te ipsum! (Go fuck yourself!)

    So. The next time I’m out in public, on transit or at a WaCoDems meeting and you see me muttering to myself? I’m probably cursing someone out….in Latin. There are many more useful phrases that I’ve not listed here. Latin, though technically a dead language, turns out to be extremely useful for venting one’s ire. Who knew? (The ancient Romans!)