We all wish we could do a little better We all wish it wasn't so hard We all wish the knife didn't have to be so sharp Just to make a mark.
Around here, no one ever lets down their family Around here, friends can be forever Around here, a full house can win the hand, But out there, the deck is dealt from the bottom.
Wrote that just now. You know how you get an urge to write something, and whatever's nearby is what you use? I had the computer handy.
We all want to pretend like the new year comes, and nothing changes, but more and more, it seems like that's never the case. Maybe it's just the normal flow of everything always changing, and I'm just blaming it on the new year. But I think everything feels different. And everything's getting scarier. I wish I knew how to live better.
I'd like to know if anyone agrees with me. At first the new year feels like the old one, but both this year and last, by the end of January, life felt substantially different. I don't really remember if it was that way in any other years; I didn't pay enough attention.
Time for the racist joke of the moment: (Gratuitous use of the word 'nigger' because, culturally, that's how the joke is supposed to be told)
There's a truck driver on the interstate. He's carrying a trailer full of bowling balls. It's raining. He's coming to the foot of Monteagle mountain when he sees a nigger walking on the side of the road. He says to himself, "Hell, there's no sense in letting that poor feller walk..." so he opens up the back of his trailer, and lets him ride in the trailer. He gets a little further up the mountain, he sees another nigger pushing a bicycle. He offers the same kindness to him. He gets to the top of the mountain, stops at the weigh station, pulls his truck onto the scales. There's a highway patrolman who comes over to the truck and asks the driver if he can look in the back of the truck. The driver agrees, so the the highway patrolman opens up the back door of the truck, and slams it back shut real quick. He runs towards the front of the truck yelling at the truck driver "Are you crazy? You get on outta here, quick!" Another highway patrolman sees the incident from the parking lot and rushes over to the first officer to see what the deal is. He asks what was wrong, what the guy was carrying, and why he wasn't apprehended. The first officer says, "I just saved us a whole mess a trouble. Why, we'd have had to call a S.W.A.T. Team and everything if I'd have reported that." "Well what was he hauling?" "That trailer was full of nigger eggs, and two had done hatched, and one had done stole a bicycle!"
I heard that from my uncle who used to be in the KKK.
I had to write a poem for English class, and I decided I would write about the moon, using an extended metaphor not only portaying it as a lantern, but likening it to hope and faith in the bleakest of times.
I'll walk in and hand this to her, and in the same breath, she will shit a brick and excuse me from class for the rest of my life. Cause this poem owns, not even considering I wrote it in a meager 10 minutes.
The hour was late and at long last I flipped the switch That dimmed the torch That lit my chamber Night after long, lonely night.
--But there was still a flame to light my way Until the morning came As I lay huddled in my bed, I almost felt The warmth from that divine lantern, Fueled by the boundless black oils of the universe It’s pale flame kindled eternally upon an earthen wick Of cold harsh stone.
And though the celestial journey Of that great iridescent orb Sometimes will hide that blank unchanging landscape From these lonesome eyes, It is only for a while that the lost desperation of the fugitive I know, and the cold bitter darkness of the night I taste. And when hope fails we need only persevere, and remember, That Time will lead it back to us with haste.
