Archive for May, 2011

Prison

Prison

How sad to see

so much humanity

filled with green bile,

masked in seething sneers,

wrapped in the cloak

of hatred, and

shod with greed and avarice,

delivering pain and humiliation

in the name of righteousness.

Where does love

grow its gentle tendrils

among such stony soils?

Where can they find

a valley within

for the vivid flow of compassion?

How can they force themselves

to live in this prison;

their own creation

of wretched hell?

Hal C Clark – May 21, 2011

America for All

America for All

 

This is a strange land,

A tumbled, upside-down land

Where our economic woes are caused by

the elderly and the poor,

the sick and weak

and the children.

Where the elite on Wall Street,

proclaiming total innocence,

harvest great wealth and power

from our financial losses.

Where we demonstrate our peacefulness by

spending our resources waging war on other nations

and killing more civilians

than soldiers.

Where we boast of equal rights for all

while denying rights

to the impoverished

or those of certain

races, cultures, religions.

Where speaking freely of your dreams or opinions

can brand you as

a traitor.

Where we can dream a dream

of the Constitution’s America,

the United States of America,

and hope someday we can all

make it real.

Hal C Clark – April 21, 2011

I get very tired of hearing how the lower and middle class are the reason we are having economic problems in the United States. According to members of congress, if we could just eliminate spending on education for our children and let the elderly die off instead of taking care of them, our nation would create more wealth. I, for one, am ready to move away from more wealth for the wealthy and set our sights on prosperity for the nation.

The poorest Americans pay the highest percent of their income on taxes. I realize they often don’t pay Federal income taxes. I have heard it said that half of all Americans pay no Federal income taxes, but that is because their earnings put them below the poverty level. But they do pay the property taxes on the apartments they rent, sales taxes on purchases, and any overhead and taxes from the services they use (utilities, transportation, etc.) These Americans tend to spend almost all of their income each month at the retail level.

The middle class pays most of the income taxes in America. My tax rate, all considered, is about ten percent higher than that of the Koch brothers because they can afford the tax attorneys to hide income and defraud the system. The business expenses in this “small” business include several private jets, numerous houses and vacation lodges, and any cars they might want.

Cerrtainly, we need to increase revenue and reduce spending in order to catch up with our debt, but why put all the burden on the lower and middle class whose splending carries our economy. The top three percent, who control seventy percent of the wealth in this country, spend less than one percent of their income at the retail level, whereas middle income families spend most of their income at the retail level. Ninety-seven percent of americans are working with 30 percent of American wealth, which is why the income of lower and middle income families continues to drop while the income of the wealthiest climbs at an exponential rate.

My frustration at seeing some of the wealthiest Americans being able to buy power to control the government of this country is apparent. I can’t change the direction we are headed by myself. Some corrections must be made. As I said earlier, I think it is time to move away from more wealth for the wealthy and toward prosperity for the Nation.

It is time to speak out about how we feel. A silent majority has no power. Be bold.

All of Me

All of Me

 

I remember that night

when I was just eight

and Mom was passed out with

the glass still in her hand.

It plays in my head like a

scary movie

that never ends.

As I lay in my bed on

the edge of sleep,

a knife of dim light

washed over my pillow and disappeared.

I trembled as I listened to him

breathe in the dark.

*

He had never come into my room,

this man who lived with Mom.

He sat on my bed and the springs

shrieked in protest as

he placed his hand gently on my chest,

driving tears from my eyes,

the breath from my lungs,

and leaving a stain of fear

on my nightgown

where he touched me.

*

Still quiet,

he pulled my hands away from me to

a part of him that was

hot and swollen,

his pumping blood beating a

tempo against my hands

like tiny drums.

I cried out when he pushed his fingers

into a private part of me

and cut me into

small pieces.

I closed my eyes and hid what was left

in a hollow place

deep inside me.

*

He moved my hands on

himself, breathing more quickly until

he made a small sound and

there was wetness on my

hands and arms

that felt like glue.

Don’t tell your mom

what you did, he said,

and left as quietly as he came.

*

He has invaded my room often

since that night,

but using that angry, hateful part of him

instead of fingers and

each time taking away

a small part of me.

*

Three years and

I have nothing left.

He has taken away

all of me

that was me.

I can give no more.

As he comes through my door,

eager,

bare and ready,

and climbs on my bed,

I reach beneath my pillow,

place the blade against his chest,

and watch as it disappears.

Hal C Clark – February 2011

Each year, thousands of children are sexually abused, usually by someone they know well. The children are scarred for the rest of their lives, although many eventually learn to cope with the pain. They don’t understand why these things happen to them, often believing it is their fault or that they deserve such treatment. We are all familiar with the stories of priests molesting young boys because these stories make the headlines. So many of the cases we never hear about, but the victims are still all around us. This is a cancer of our society and MUST be stopped.

I do not believe killing is the answer to anything, so it surprised me when the line “I reached beneath my pillow” came to me and I let the victim have the last word. It says something about the desperation, humiliation, degradation, and futility of the experience. I decided to let it stand. It is time to do something about this problem, and public awareness is the first step.

Please leave a comment and let me know how you feel.


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