A Poem a Day: a Series – Day 79

Day 79: “Death Doesn’t Make You a Hero”


Death doesn’t absolve you of the damage you did when you were alive

Let me say that in terms you’ll understand

Death doesn’t erase your sins on earth


We have a real problem with telling it like it is in this country

We’re really afraid to speak ill of the dead

Why?

Some people were monsters and should be remembered as such


No, death does not make you a good person

No, not even a tragic death


Death does give the final say

Often in conjunction with irony

Giving a deeper meaning


Please, don’t lose the plot


A horrible, hateful, racist, homophobic, transphobic, Islamophobic, misogynistic, sexist, pro-genocide man in life

Doesn’t make a hero in death


You can’t just chalk it up to a difference of political opinion

A tirade against anyone who is not straight, cisgender and white is NOT a product of political opinion

It is a product of violence and hate


And you can’t hide behind religion


A man who stood for violence in many forms

Met his death with a bullet

A death no one should face

But for someone so obsessed with guns

It sounds like fate

A Poem a Day: a Series – Day 78

Day 78: “Oh, Theater!”


The theater is a place

Where you can be someone else for a time

A moment


You can watch something serious

Or sad

Or funny


And be immersed in it


Real life? What’s that

The only real life is Mary Todd Lincoln’s obsession with cabaret and Abe Lincoln’s obsession with men and John Wilkes Booth’s obsession with Abe Lincoln


The theater is a magical place

A Poem a Day: a Series – Day 75

Day 75: “Bad News”


I got some bad news

I was living in delusional bliss

Believing my cat would live forever

Never leave me


But that is not the case


I’m not stupid

I know she won’t live forever

But I can’t accept

That she’ll leave me


I’m not ready


Fingers crossed today’s bloodwork tells a different story

A Poem a Day: a Series – Day 70

Day 70: “I’ll Be There For You”


When I turn on my tv

queue up “Friends”

and lay down on the couch,

it reminds me of a simpler time


coming home from school

watching the show with my mom


not understanding any of the innuendos

instead learning new words like

abysmal

except I thought it was a bysmal

like one bysmal


falling in love with the fashion


reluctantly agreeing that I’m a Monica

even though I always wanted to be a Rachel


now I’m proud to be a Monica


that’s growth