~*~Hate Comes to Campus~*~

Prove me Wrong…
A debate in good faith
with a young man of faith —
unabashedly so.
Hate proved him right.

They gathered to argue —
Agree —
Learn —
Teach —
Except for one.
Hate came to silence it all.

Its ideology whistled
through the charged air,
tore through the neck —
Of a kind man —
A husband —
A father —
A forever hopeful who held love for all.
His respect for others did not stop
at opposing beliefs.

Hate etched its intentions on bullets —
(hey, fascist, catch!) —
Its voice exploded in a red waterfall.

His little girl ran to him
as life left his body.
She sought comfort — reassurance —
not knowing her world was changed.

His views were not mine.
His words were not mine.
But death is nonpartisan.
Grief does not ask how you vote.

We mourn in fragments and forums,
in soundbites and silence.
We mourn because
Hate came to campus,
and it never left.

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes!

We got a party going on here!! There are some aesthetic changes and new pages here for my new media class, which is a very interesting class about expanding one’s online presence and creating a website. If I mentioned all this before, I apologize. I already have my site, but I never had a WiP page or author page. Okay, this all seems really familiar…

Anyway, sadly, the pink font had to go due to being hard on the eyes, so I chose yellow and I don’t know if it’s better, as bad, or worse. It doesn’t bother me, but I read what I write in the WordPress editor in black and white. White is just too “blah,” so I can do a super pale yellow if I need to. If it’s hard to read, just drop me a comment!

I’ve named my second poetry collection, and I think it’s a catchy title! I also created the cover, which I really like except the title may be hard to read as well. Color me autistic, but somebody who followed me on Threads commented on my first poetry collection and asked if I minded telling my readers where I got my cover art (Canva, purchased from the artist, btw – which is awesome and an indie author’s dream). I said, “No, why would I mind that?” They didn’t answer me, so I don’t know what that was about. Maybe don’t ask if you don’t really want to know 🤷. I’ve been busy getting in trouble, which is a lot easier and more frequent when you don’t look autistic and your filter is no longer alive, so that’s been fun.

I begin my last term in a couple of weeks, and I have the same guy who (falsely) accused me practically every week of using AI. He was “reporting” me to the school, but since he was merely on an AI witch hunt, like a lot of the professors since AI became public, and I do my own work, nothing came of it except I don’t like him now. People can and do write one way in forums/discussions and another academically in papers and projects. Duh. I emailed my advisor and told him I really don’t care if I graduate if it means I have to take his class. I am already suffering from major college burnout, and I don’t know if I can tolerate eight weeks of him again.

Adam’s next classes are intermediate poetry workshop and context of writing. I didn’t like the context of writing one because it’s query letters and drafting an author bio, but it wasn’t too difficult. I had a crap teacher for the workshop but I had the teacher I liked for the advanced workshop after that, so I was cool. If it’s not noticeable, I hold grudges, even though I don’t mean to.

First Day of School!

School is back in session! We had a week off, which is awesome because I am suffering from school burnout pretty badly. This term, I have a “new media” class and an advanced creative writing workshop. The new media is about writing using different media, mainly digital (online), from what I can tell. It’s a requirement for my English/creative writing major. The advanced creative writing workshop is the last workshop before graduating, and from what I can tell with it, I have to write in a different genre than my major concentration. My concentration is poetry, so I have to write something that’s not that.

I think I’m going with non-fiction because I’m eyeing writing a memoir. I have a second poetry collection and two fiction novels started, so I’m going to have another work in progress in progress 🤣🤣. I’ve been hesitant to declare I am writing a memoir because my ADHD has my memory in shreds and I’m honestly not that interesting. I think writing essays would suit me, but I really don’t understand what that means. I think of schoolwork when I think of essays, not full-on novels.

I did read a book in class by a popular essayist, Dave or Dan Sedaris (I’ll look him up in a minute), and that gave me some insight, but I don’t know if I could do it. I’m not interesting and don’t have a lot to say on multiple subjects even if they are stories from my life. Plus, my brain goes eighty different directions on a good day, so wrangling my thoughts for several essays sounds intimidating. Okay, the essayist is David Sedaris. I had to read Me Talk Pretty One Day, an intentional title that nonetheless drove me bonkers.

Adam has philosophy and literary theory this term, both classes I’ve taken. I chose the philosophy class as it’s an elective but it was kind of boring to me. It was an easy A, but didn’t make me really think about things like I assumed it would. Of course, when I am passionate about something and want to talk about it, I get all flustered and confuse myself so I can’t have coherent, rational conversations with people 😒. Most of my thoughts on certain subjects culminate in me fervently stating, “I hate people!,” and Adam’s like, “Yeah, I know. Me, too.” Real head-scratching debates take place in this house. One such subject that my husband and I agree on (we disagree on some things because we are autonomous) is inclusive, “tolerant” people being intolerant to intolerant people.

Now, of course, online that is met with hatred, ignorance, and name-calling. Obviously, I’m a bigot, racist, sexist, transphobe, homophobe, etc., because I think for myself and don’t have utopian delusions. You have the same values as me? That’s fine. You have differing values than me? That’s fine, too. People I come into contact with online cannot wrap their heads around this and it’s gross. I have a large family, and some are left, some are right, some are middle. We all get along. No, we don’t all agree on the big three (religion, abortion, sexuality) and that’s fine. We can feel how we want, vote how we want, and remain friendly and a family.

In terms of the online space, to say you are tolerant and inclusive, then boot people from online communities that have nothing to do with values or politics or whatever you want to call it, that’s just…not being tolerant and inclusive. Reddit is really bad about it, and there are people there who freely and loudly admit to creeping on users and banning those users if they visit or join communities the creepers don’t agree with. Like, WTH, people? That is not tolerant and that is certainly not inclusive. The people being kicked aren’t starting crap and politicizing anything; they’re actually the ones sticking to the sub’s topic, unlike the “tolerant” people on a power kick. I’m getting myself irritated so I will stop there.

I bought security cameras after our riding lawn mower was stolen from our driveway, which is a bad time to buy them, but I didn’t know they would be affordable and I didn’t know some losers would steal our mower that had a flat tire (I didn’t know Adam had left it in the driveway, either). They were $17 apiece and are HD and surprisingly nice cameras (Wyze). They alert me when people, pets, vehicles, or packages are detected and I was alerted twice yesterday that a pet was detected on the porch. My thought each time was it was Gandi and our flowerbed is a Pet Sematary, and I stopped myself from checking the footage both times. We now have Sprinkles, Merlin, and Gandi in our flowerbed in front of the driveway.

In the Garden of Remorse Free Preview

Check out the poems titles and read my introduction for free! Also, if you have Kind Unlimited, you can read the entire collection!! I would also be more than happy to sign any paperback or hardcover copies.

I’m Published! Grab Your Copy!!

Well, after a big snafu, my first poetry collection, In the Garden of Remorse, is available on Amazon! I accidentally published it while trying to order a proof copy 😫. A dear friend from California purchased the version with some formatting errors, but he said he would treasure it, warts and all. All versions are available right now, including Kindle Unlimited!

I did not know independent authors still got screwed on the royalties. I had to price my paperback to a ridiculous price (especially for new authors) just to get a little over $5 per sale. I think I get around $3 per sale for the ebook. That would be fine if I had a following or could do decent marketing. No one follows me or cares what I have to say. Oh, well. I’m not doing it for the money, but it would be a great perk. Due to unpopular demand, I’ve decreased all prices 😒.

I hope I make a sale that isn’t family or friends 😂. I need a hype man!

~*~Influencer~*~

Radiate the skin and multiply the melanin.  

Smother the pores with powder and oil.

Line the lips and eyes like a practiced cartoonist.

Grind the teeth down and cover with synthetic ones —

fake teeth for fake smiles.

Walk on tiptoes with calves at full attention.

Self-medicate to eradicate the hate.

Compress the organs — sway the bones.

The camera adds ten pounds —

best lose 20 or 30.

Minimum mass for maximum exposure.

~*~A Fish Named Henry~*~

I won a goldfish at the county fair.  

Poor goldfish — seeing that ping-pong

ball looming toward his home like Apophis.

His golden body glistened in the sunlight

as he swam in a bowl won from the dime pitch.

With the pride and confidence of any fish parent,

I changed his water at the sink — and watched

in horror as his slick orange body

slid from the bowl and down the drain.

The horror! The absolute tragedy!

Propelled by child’s logic, I fled

the house and ran down to the creek bank

to tell my brother and neighbor what happened

and asked if they saw Henry swim out of the pipe.

My brother deciphered my mucoid blubbering,

then promptly laughed at me.

Weeks later, our neighbor told me,

whilst fishing, he saw a big goldfish

swimming around and looking happy.

It took me a few years to realize

the truth, but when I did, I didn’t

appreciate it any less.

~*~The Oven~*~

My brother says something from the top bunk.  

What did he say?

I pop my head out and look up.

Bam!

I see red —

Mom!

Feel warmth gushing —

Dad!

Do I cry?

I should cry.

Into the tub I go.

The water turns my favorite color —

I’m lying in Barbie water.

My brother burst my strawberry —

My birthmark.

Am I dead now?

Is that how it works?

Mama called the doctor

and the doctor said


She’s fine.

But what had my brother said?

I ask him.

I was telling you to watch out.

~*~Colors of Death~*~

Death leaves a mark 

on those left behind —

A tattoo on the soul,

a rainbow of lines.


The deep green of envy

for those who’ve not lost —

Blissfully ignorant of

what love really costs.


The anger burns white,

much hotter than red —

It courses through the chest

and leaves a lingering dread.


Yellow is the fear

to face the world alone —

A fear of being lost

in a world of unknown.


Blue is the calm,

a serene, soothing haze —

Not one to remain,

it hits us in waves.


Red is the love,

the one thing that’s real —

It’s something to cling to

while we try to heal.

~*~Bertrand~*~

Acrostics are a really cool form of poetry and can be fun and challenging to write. Bertrand Russell is a well-known philosopher and I have always loved a certain quote by him.

~*~Bertrand~*~

War.

Does it

Not help you

Determine who lives and

Who dies? Tell me who

Is arrogant enough to believe he’s

Right about who deserves to live, and

Only the chosen ones will remain on Earth.

Who was born into such hatred, and who

Is able to sleep at night knowing the ones

Left will surely spend the rest of their lives broken?