Monday, June 17

Goodbye Hi-atus



Hello all, sorry that I've been gone for so long. I hope to blog more often. Tuesday was some what a success at the Loving Day Poetry Circle. Thank you Delia, again, for the opportunity to bring such a diverse group of people together. So many people with so many experiences. I had two poems that I also had just incase there weren't enough other poets. Seeing people perform their passion brings out the artist, or lack there of, in me. Here's the two that I haven't performed yet and are on their early draft stages.

Tell Them Dominic
Tell them all Dominic, that you’ve become a runaway. Tell them that you’ve undid the shackles on your brain and the padlock on your creativity, because now they can no longer will be call you different. Tell them that the ideas are yours and you’ve released them like blooming lotuses. Tell them you won’t be a conformity or an abnormality when they’re performing so-called psychoanalysis to aid you in becoming a robot of mediocrity. Even if you can’t speak, you’ve responded with a language that normal humans couldn’t understand like it’s above their sound frequency. They may have not understood, but they have to understand. Because what you are saying, what you are relaying, may just yank them out the mind frame of a box that they’ve fallen asleep in. Because maybe autism isn’t a problem, maybe it’s a solution. So grant them more than just a few operations that they can do “normally.” When you look up autistic kids the internet shows them stacking and organizing their toys or objects because this is an example of autistic behavior. Little did they know that these little fellas were making a stairway to heaven weighing their choices of having being called socially awkward or actually being God’s apparatus, so they took the ladder (latter). They may have been showing signs of a modern day Michelangelo, making a contemporary Sistine Chapel only given a blanket as a canvas and toys as paintbrushes. What you call organized repetition, I’ll call artistic movement. Shakespeare created words that, at first, no one understood. And their so-called repetitive behavior is just their patience toward us trying to teach us that no two persons are the same, something we already know but fail to address. So there isn’t a reason why we should label them to revoke them of their geniuses. Being autistic is more like being Albert Einstein and explaining to you the theory of relativity when you were 4 and allowing for you understand. In fact, having Albert Einstein explain it to you now would probably bring about the same results. I remember taking out my Dominic out, and although he did not speak, I remember him responding better than most children that could. There was more authentic enjoyment and greater appreciation than almost any kid that I’ve taken care of. So in a world full of fake smirks, he’ll show you what it’s like to smile, over and over again.  Then, there was the day when they said Dominic is being to talk. I wanted dash across the room and yell to them, “Dominic probably wanted me to tell that you all are wrong, because autism isn’t a disorder. He’s been communicating; you’ve only just started being to listen.” I would’ve said tell them Dominic, tell them all Dominic. And probably just be there smiling, signifying that he has been trying to all along.



Being a Forgetful Lover Comes Easy


Being a Forgetful Lover Comes Easy

Today is Monday,
I called her to wish her a happy birthday, but got the dates confused and have already missed it.

Today is Tuesday,
A relative of mine asked me what your religion was, and I politely responded atheism, then changed it to one of those religions, and then just changed the subject in all.

Today is Wednesday,
I recalled you being of mixed descendants, but I couldn’t put my finger on of which ethnicities. The color of your skin doesn’t exactly give it away.

Today is Thursday,
Thursdays reminds me of the government for some reason, and I hate politics.

Today is Friday,
Last day of the work week. I know I’ve asked you before but what do you do at work, what’s your salary like, and will you even have benefits for us?

Today is Saturday,
As of late, I’m starting to think that I don’t know you too well and we JUST made up for your birthday this evening.

Today is NOW Sunday,
I don’t know if I forgot your age, religion, ethnicity, political party, wage and/or culture or if it just doesn’t matter, because today is Sunday and I simply love you. Every day has passed and I’ve loved you. And when that only matters, being an indiscriminate, forgetful lover comes easy.