The Boy I've Ever Been

She says to me "You're still far and away
the boy you've ever been,"and I want to
stand and flip the table over.
The boy I've ever been was never so
angry to want to flip a table over.

Thanks to everyone who came to the VCC in Philadelphia. Love to you all!
(This poem uses a line from "Dear Avery" by The Decemberists)

Courage

A woman's courage is often mistaken for insanity
A man's insanity can be mistaken for courage
Making sense of any of this escapes me

For now

Jim Hale
February 9 2011

Studio 84 Vets' Art Exhibition

Veteran’s Art Exhibit Call for Artists

Studio 84

121 W. Center St.

Whitewater, WI 53190

262-812-7560

info@studio84inc.org

www.studio84inc.org

Dates of exhibit:

July 1-28 2011

Deadlines:

Entries due: June 17

Delivery of art due: June 24

Reception: Friday, July 1 6-7:30 pm

We will be open on July 4 for Whitewater’s parade and festival activities.

Any subject, any medium, submit up to 4 pieces.

Artists must be a veteran.

No entry fee, but donations are always welcome; we are a 501c3 non profit community art studio and gallery.

Donations are tax deductible.

Find out more at studio84inc.org

A War I Brought Back Home.

War, war is what I get Inside the mind of this Troubled young Vet. when I came home there was fuzzy tone everything seemed to change and Inside I felt alone. Bombs and death were still vey clear, The ringing never stops inside of my ear. The only friend that I could keep was a friend in the form of a drink, Day or night he'd help to kill the fright to numb the pain inside my brain, This war inside is driving me insane. Money and pills are the answer from THEM but all I want is to be ME again.

Jerzzzy

9/11

Police state new york city

Invasion Of afghanistan

A new american war

Another front on the war on drugs begins

A drug epidemic not of south american origin

But a new trade route explosion of heroin to the east coast

Under the noses of Americans that the TV never televises

For New york may be secure but Jersey was not ready and was never ready for the influx of poppy poison

They call it dirty jersey

and MTV portrays it with their brawling violent show to exploit the notorious state

I got something to say about those fake privileged fools chillin in Seaside

There full of shit of what Jersey really is

No fan of the two of them but Trump your a joke

Obama your a lier but I know your an American

For the jersey shore crew your suspect as new yorkers

I wanna see your Jersey birth certificate of authenticity

Our license plate states say the garden state but for many its the garbage state

Its not the attitude or the women with hair spray and teased up hair

It comes in cellophane bags

75% of blissful street grade purity

The spread of this painkiller has know boundaries

and flat liners hit the hospitals stretctors in regularity

I ain't know hypocrite for when I came home from Iraq a needled dangled in my arm

Theres no escape

I don't know a friend who has not tried it, flat lined, or died from it

I'm hear at this mic for vengeance

To the war in Afghanistan and the government who let the flow of kilos sail the atlantic to the delaware river docks

Those fools turned a blind eye

This is personal

Fuck the war

Fuck the drug war

It never worked in South America and it won't work in this desert barren battle land

This is the trash

This is the dirt

This is the ugly truth

Of a true story

The real reality show of Sleazy Jersey

Hookers, Drugs, STDs, Needles, gambling, poverty, and Job cuts to the poor that are now poorer.

Oh yah and fuck that mother fucker Chris Christie

No better than Scott Walker sitting in his throne in Wisconsin with people under him suffering.

There is always a cause an effect to everything

This is just another secret to the overall reality of war without boundaries.

My event

Hey I'm having an event on June 11th, 2pm-4pm. Follow the link for details: http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=177342772318143

Thanks hope to see ya'll there.

P.S.- I'm still looking for poets to read their work. Email me at ngoodwin07@yahoo.com

My Thoughts on Evil

As we celebrate in the streets,
A man is dead.
Not a good man, but a man
Nonetheless.
But what is the difference between
Man and monster?
Only history I suppose.
The victor's story is the only one
remembered.
So why not celebrate?
Why not call for more blood
In the streets?
Because the idea is not dead.
Bloodthirsty ideals never seem to die
in human hands.
Wars are big business.
And we are all bathed in the remnants
of blood.
I see my daughter's future painted black
Never to be clean again.
As the chaos sings its chorus of
"Good job!" and "Well done!"
I know of many who have thrown
themselves around the barrel of a gun
Ending it all in the name of liberty.
Was it worth it? All of this celebration
and "anniversaries of remembrance"
Is it worth it to carry ten years a heavy
burden all for the sake of vengeance?
Remember the Nazis celebrated the death
of the Jews, the Romans the Christians,
and now the Christians the Muslims and
I am in the mist of it all, walking a thin line
still living on the fringe.
How's that for remembrances?
We have shown we forget in the blink of an
blind eye. And in this way people more, often
than not, evil has won.

What we've seen

What we've seen, we'll never forget. What we've done, we'll always regret.
The mind will wander for hours and hours. Unrelenting thoughts from Kabul to Baghdad.
All the while, tossing soccer balls to kids. Then laugh when they fight--
fight to the death over one single ball.
Houses made of shit, tea full of sugar.
Decaying cow carcasses lining the roads.
A surreal moment as you check your soul.

Pleasure

Some show with a crooked smile--others go for walks that last a mile.
Flowers and babies, puppies and butterflies;
all of these things only last a while.
Images dancing in our dreams, making every person beam.
Smiles or walks--it doesn't matter, just enjoy the small things--and lots of laughter!

Geronimo

A corpse, shrouded in white and
Resting on a plank, is upended and
Slides away into the eternal dark of
The Arabian Sea,
Falling.

Crowds gather in plazas to
Cheer and wave banners and cry for
More, more, more. They traipse and
Trip and tumble about each other,
Falling.

In the glory of our recent victory
Another young American snaps one
final salute before taking one
Final step from a rooftop,
Falling.

Geronimo.

Osama Dead!?

This is a big day in history and if you are like me you have a lot of strange and mixed feelings about this. The beauty of poetry is finding a way to express a whole lot of complicated emotions in a succinct way. Write about today, what is your reaction? How do you feel?

Do it, share it!