Just listen.

Everybody thinks they know.
There must be something.
Try it this way.
Say it that way.
They’ll respond to this.
They’ll respond to that.
Just give it time.
Sooner or later they’ll come around.
Just don’t give up. You can’t ever give up.
Don’t give up?
Who the fuck do you think you are?
Give up?
What the hell does that even mean?
No matter what I do. Anywhere, anytime,
They are in my thoughts constantly.
I’ve reached out, so many times, and been slapped down,
again, and again.
I have a right to survive as well.
If you want to offer me help, and support,
An ear to listen, then fine.
But don’t pretend to know. Don’t speak of that
of which you have no experience,
no knowledge.
Give me a hug,
But not your fucking blind ignorant hope.
My hope is chiseled. Focused.
Doled out deliberately in small doses,
for where I think it might be most effective.
At times, even after all these years,
It slips away from me,
And I find myself, against my better judgement,
Hoping with reckless and wild abandon.
Tlll I reign it in,
Knowing that that way sadness lies.
I have hope, a goddamned motherlode of hope.
But I will not squander it foolishly.
It will be tempered.
It must be tempered.
Forged, and made strong in the furnace of my heart,
Able to withstand
The time, and the journey,
No matter what the cost.
I understand never, oh yes,
from too many angles,
So don’t give me your platitudes,
Give me your shoulder, and perhaps a smile,
In the darkest times hold me,
But don’t placate me.
I know of what I speak, from the depth and bredth of my being.
Respect that, learn to just listen. Nothing more.

…Alasdair Thompson

…may be the biggest shitheel in the world.  The only fitting response to this story is to fling bloody tampons at the man.

Many thanks to the BBC for sharing this with the world.

NZ sexism row: EMA boss Alasdair Thompson sacked

New Zealand women are paid about 12% less than men, recent figures showed

The head of a major New Zealand employers’ group has been fired after he caused public outrage by linking women’s productivity to menstruation.

Alasdair Thompson of the Employers’ and Manufacturers’ Association made his comments on a radio show last month.

Mr Thompson said women were paid less than men because they took more sick leave and “have children they have to take time off to go home” to care for.

Prime Minister John Key said Mr Thompson’s dismissal was inevitable.

“I don’t think it’s surprising,” Mr Key told reporters. “In the end that’s a matter for EMA, but I’m not shocked by it.”

Asked if the decision took too long, Mr Key said employment matters were often complex and it was as matter for the EMA.

“But in the end this situation he got himself into didn’t look like it was sustainable.”

‘Brain explosion’

Mr Thompson’s comments were made during a NewstalkZB interview on 23 June, during a debate on recent figures that showed New Zealand women were paid about 12% less than men.

“Who takes the most sick leave? Women do, in general,” he said.

“Why? Because once a month they have sick problems. Not all of them, but some do.

“They have children that they have to take time off to go home and take leave of. Therefore it’s their productivity. It’s not their fault.”

He continued: “I’m sorry, I don’t like saying these things because it sounds like I’m sexist, but it’s the facts of life.”

Mr Thompson later apologised for his comments.

Minister of Labour Kate Wilkinson described the comments at the time as a “brain explosion”.

Women’s Affairs Minister Hekia Parata said on Wednesday that people would be pleased there had been a resolution.

“I think that it’s been pretty clear from the response that the remarks made were unacceptable to a wide range of people and my own experience of talking to businesses and across the country is it was a generally felt view that they were unacceptable,” she said.

…raining on your morality parade

It’s a watershed moment in America.  A woman who was suspected of murdering her daughter, dumping her in a field and living the high life for 31 days before notifying authorities (excuse:  missing child) was rendered not guilty by a jury of her peers.  The peanut gallery gasps in horror at this miscarriage of justice for the slain toddler.  News, being news in the United States, can only focus on one story per day and this is it.

The jury is a collection of fools.  The prosecution was robbed.  The toddler’s memory was tarnished.  The peanuts take to the street, marching in lock-step tooting their horns and waving the “It’s unfair” flag while singing songs about the terrible, murdering mother.  All while overlooking some significant facts:

  • It is the responsibility of the prosecution to prove guilt.  Clearly, from the jury’s perspective, it did not.
  • Children are abused on a daily basis.

I understand the concept of cause célèbre.  We all have our pets we choose to support.  But let me ask the peanuts in the parade some critical questions:

  • Where is your outrage when it comes to other children being abused, beaten and slain?
  • Are you fully aware of the broad reach of child abuse?
  • Aside from Twattering and Fecesbooking, what are you doing about it?

Now…I’m certainly not denying the right to one’s opinion.  What I am trying to do is offer a different side to the tale.  It’s very easy to lash out at a monster who would harm his/her child when it’s the dominating story in the daily news.  It’s very easy to express outrage. That said, if you’re so horrified by child abuse, what are you doing in your community to stop it?

No one is omnipotent.  Dollars to donuts, abuse goes on behind closed doors and the general public is never even aware of it transpiring. That does not change the fact that it does happen.  A parent doesn’t have to murder a child to be a monster.  A parent doesn’t have to get caught to be guilty of this crime.

The sad fact of the matter is that a variation of Casey Anthony lives on every block in every neighborhood in every state/country. The sad fact of the matter is that most of us are blind to it.  Rather than taking the easy way out and joining groups supporting the non-purchase of any tell-all book, why not get involved in your communities and schools and help a child in need?  Surely that is a far better investment of time and energy, yes?

The People On My Fridge

Pretty soon I’m off to see,
The people on my fridge,
I shall take my expat journey,
Time and distances to bridge,
There’ll be hugs, and there’ll be tears,
Then the years will fall away,
There’ll be lots of catching up,
As well as time to laugh and play,
Then the people on the fridge will wonder,
Why I just can’t stay,
I’ll admit I kind of wish I could,
But I won’t try to explain,
I’ll just hug and kiss them gently,
And then fly back home again.

Dear Brother

Do I have a soul? I do not know. We cannot know such things. I'd like to think that it's not me, but my soul, that rhymes and sings.

When I was seventeen, I told you,
My deepest darkest,
And most devastating secret.
What he did.

What he’d been doing, rather…

It had become my demon possessor.
Strangling me. Choking me.
Every day killing me.
Crushing me.

Under its enormous weight.

And I was suffocating.
So I told you.
But you didn’t believe me.
At least not at first.

Not that I blame you…

Selfish it was to share with you,
My crushing burden.
But we’d been through,
So much shit,

You and I, together…

And how could you go on,
Living day by day,
In the same house,
With the same man,

Who did that to your sister?

Much easier it must have been,
For you to tell yourself,
I made the whole thing up.
That I must be lying,

And pretend I never told you.

Don’t Box Me In! (Walt Whitman says)

I like things,
But I don’t collect them,
Drawn to people,
But I don’t select them,
Don’t have a kind, a style, a type,
Can’t describe me with a magnet swipe,
I’m curious, a blesséd curse,
Love to explore the broad diverse,
(As a side note: I am slightly awed,
When I meet a diverse broad)
But seriously,
Don’t try to peg me,
I beseech, cajole, I even beg thee,
With a world that’s daily more complex,
We insist on labelling with an “X”,
“X” marks the spot – so we can see,
The consumer type you seem to be,
Answer these questions, check these boxes,
So we know what your preferred stock is,
Well I reject that!
No, no, no!
Walt Whitman said it long ago,
Am I filled with contradiction?
Of course!
That’s what makes truth stranger than fiction,
Not narrow-minded, all that that exudes,
I am large, I contain multitudes!

America Day Eh?

Ah, my friends, you’se Americans,
Yes, yes, you know, you’re the ones,
Who sometimes with some wit and luck,
Get mistaken for a Canuck,
Ah, just teasing now, don’t go smashing,
I know ya’ll take some bashing,
You’re always welcome up our way,
If there’s conscription in the U.S.A.,
We love you dearly, and we’ve got your back,
Here’s a Canadian flag, for your rucksack!

Friendship & Understanding

We’re all on our own journeys
All our choices are our own,
Not always a reflection
of how we have or haven’t grown,
We make mistakes, we stumble,
We each learn in our own way,
Sometimes all that we can do
is to take life day by day,
We should really fight the urge
to both judge and to compare,
Instead offer true friendship,
Shoulders that are always there.

The Fourth

Many people wonder how and why,
We celebrate the Fourth of July.
What are we really celebrating?
It’s certainly worth investigating.
What’s being an American all about?
They say we kicked the British out.
But did we gain our independence,
Or did the British just abandon us?
Saying, take the bloody colony then!
And don’t ever ask for help again.
Whatever the reason, it’s our day,
Celebrated in the traditional way.
With big emotions, and big explosions.
And lots of alcohol-fueled commotion.
Obnoxious and big and brash and loud.
It’s what we are and we’re damn proud.
Don’t mess with us. Don’t even try.
Have a Happy Fucking Fourth of July.