Friday, June 13, 2008

Sunday, June 8, 2008

The Congo

I went hungry today,

The Janjaweed took

What little was left,

To fuel their genocide,

While you shopped for new Prada.


My village was burned today

My son taken away,

Tortured for information

Then left for dead, a bullet in his head

And you bought a new plasma screen TV.


They took both my daughters,

Violated them right there, so brutally

Then they moved onto me,

As my babies watched, broken and bleeding,

And you browsed Netflix looking for something new.


My baby died a horrible death

A disease that costs $2 to prevent

He fought and he suffered,

He died without knowing life

And you complain about the price of a movie.


You run around in pointless pursuit

Chasing the dragons of Obsession,

Material Gain and Possessions,

While my people suffer and die.


I cried today, for my children and

My country, raped and pillaged,

For my husband, murdered in his sleep,

The tears won’t stop falling,

They won’t stop the killing.


We are the ignored.


'The Congo' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 2008, all rights reserved worldwide.

Friday, June 6, 2008

OMFG!!

Wow! Two posts in one week, can you believe it?

I am trying very, very hard to turn my thinking around and cultivate positive thoughts, but let me tell you it is very hard to do when everybody is driving you freaking crazy!!! People just won't leave me alone. I'm so tired of the phone ringing and having people knock at the damn door. I want to run away and hide from all the chaos and noise. I'm quite manic today, and anytime I have a manic phase I'm very sensitive to sound, and all the noise is making me fucking loony!

I feel like everyone wants a piece of me until there is just nothing left.

I think I'd better turn off the ringer on the phone, hide in my bedroom and burn some lavender to calm down before I start smacking people around!

Tuesday, June 3, 2008

Some Blather and a Poem

Wow, so much time has passed since my last post. I can't believe how quickly the days go by. I've been so busy with everything else so I've been neglecting this blog once again.

I've been writing a lot and I'd like to gather a lot of my poems and short stories into a book and try to find a publisher. I'm not sure how I want to arrange them though. I'll have to play around with them for a while to see how I want the book laid out. But first, I'm going to try to send out some poems to a few magazines and newspaper publications. I just have to find some that would take my poetry. I have over 200 short stories and poems on my computer. I need to take the next step and start sending them out.

But, a part of me is afraid to. All I've ever wanted to be is a writer, and if I send things out and have them all rejected I would feel like a ginormous failure. My most passionate dream would be shattered. I know, all writers say you have to learn to handle rejection cuz there is a lot of it in the business. I guess that's something I'll have to work on.

The Drunken Midgets are excited to be in their last week of school. Today is their last full day. The youngest has finals today, the eldest tomorrow and Thursday. The youngest heads to Valleyfair with her school on Thursday, and the eldest goes on Friday with her friends. They are both so excited.

This is a little poem I wrote, inspired in part by my youngest daughter, as I was thinking of when she was about 4 or 5. It was also inspired by Poefusion's Friday 5 last week, the words being:

crash, yogurt, straw, gravel, ochre


Youthful Innocence

Knees scraped

from gravel roads

well traveled.

Red chalk

stained ochre

on her fingers

from when she

wrote her new poem

on the sidewalk

for all the neighbors

to admire.


She attempts to suck

yogurt from a straw

just because she has to

be different, or maybe

because there are

no clean spoons

you never know with her.


Tangled brown hair,

dirt streaked face,

hazel eyes full of mischief,

she laughs,

at what I do not know,

her smile is like sunshine.


She jumps up,

it’s off to her big wheel,

my little daredevil,

she crashes into the mailbox,

tosses back a careless ‘I’m okay!’

and pedals furiously

down the street,

pigtails flying,

searching for another adventure.


'Youthful Innocence' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 2008, all rights reserved worldwide.