Skip to main content

Hope is Beautiful

Thoughts on Born into Brothels

From my world swept over by gray and cream and beige

Watch a boy in a ghetto paint a different picture

Framed the way he wants

that captures the colors

In between each wrinkle of an eye

Sneaks in the sadness

Doesn't lie

Elegance is without domain

Veiled by his father's hash smoke screen

How does his Technicolor world look from red rimmed eyes?

Perhaps he is making duck calls

Hunting home the food that will save them

Muting the colors of all but textured mallard green

Missing the last of hope his son pours from a bucket

Into the sea

Where it may find a better home

He snaps a picture of it as it leaves him

And it is beautiful

Boring beige sand

With accents of bright exciting tshirts

of the people stepping

Across all oceans hope is beautiful

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Friday Quotes! The GAME

Introducing *drumroll please* Friday Quotes: The Game Apparently people play this game in their heads when they read this anyway so here's your chance to make it interactive. Guess who said each quote. You can post your answers in the comments. The person with the most correct answers gets.... the joy of being right. What? I don't paid for this blog, so you'll have to find self satisfaction wherever you can. Let the Games Begin! 1. "She's so dumb she thinks 'soy milk' is Spanish for 'I am milk'." 2. "Yeah... I didn't sit next to him on spaghetti day." 3. “Its just like when you don’t think about something, you know, and then you think about something.” 4. "What, you're my fucking mom? What, you shat me out of your womb?" 5. “I just had all of this emotion, and it burst forth from my face.” 6. “Chances are if you're reading it and you think its Heath, its probably Heath.” 7. “He drinks whiskey, or Izze, or l...

Where'd the monkeys in my hair go?

I promise I will post Wednesdays' Weirdos again next week, but the pictures for this week got trapped on my camera with a dead battery. Sorry. I suck. Instead I'll tell you a drinking story. We were in St. Louis visiting for the holidays and a rare opportunity to get annihilated with my girlfriends presented itself. I started out with two beers while I was waiting for the girls with Rob's friends. Then, when we got to the fancy-pants bar I switched to whiskey on the rocks. I'm at sea level so I think I can drink like a champ. Hmmm. After about three of these and I-don't-remember-how-many shots, I switched back to beer. Damn, I'm bright. At some point in the evening I realize that we're in a bar that used to be my favorite bar in the whole world. It was called Tangerine then. They had Go Go dancers on the bar and let you climb on it and had hand shaped chairs so your butt got held. They had trucker night where you got your drinks in mugs. They ha...

Home birth- The real fuckin deal

So the end of pregnancy is for the fuckin birds. I'm sure plenty of you out there know this. There's nothing to say but that you're sick of being pregnant. You're a little sick of the sweet smiles and knowing looks from strangers. You're just all over sick of it. You're spectacularly sick of the: when's your due date how far are you are you having a boy or a girl I bet you're sick of this what hospital are you going to, conversations. You miss when people used to ask about the soccer game you played or the book you're reading. You're sick of swollen handsfeetfaceneckanklesEVERYTHING. Oh and from the beginning of pregnancy until FRIDAY, I had NO stretch marks. Friday my entire lower abdomen erupted into one. giant. stretch mark. So all weekend, I thought, please let this be over soon. Every cramp I felt I welcomed and thought, "whatever work my body does now, it doesn't have to do during labor." Little did I know how much ...