Bona Fide

Stephanie Furtun

Tree of Life

American hubris,

American greed,

American supremacy.

Why are you under my possession?

Isn’t it time to stop suffocating me?

Suffocating me of all the things I refuse to be.

Some smile,

While others whimper,

Why can’t life be anymore simpler?

The power of something green and mean,

Can change something,

So serene.

“ A casual stroll through the lunatic

asylum shows that faith does not prove

anything. ” –Friedrich Nietzsche

One

Life without a voice box would be no life at all.

A voice box is our gift from god to achieve what we

want and what we need.

I would live a life, unable to fight for my

strongest desires and aspirations.

The birth of nature speaks to me like my mother’s

broken English.

The audacity of her French accent guiding me

through a life filled with

Injustice,

Poverty,

Crime,

Fear,

And pollution.

Who’s going to be there for my daughter?

To tell her right from wrong,

Wrong from right.

Take away the risk she’ll have form being exposed

to

The oppressed government, our founding fathers

polluted us with.

Change our history; she doesn’t need to be wounded

from

Divorce,

Starvation,

Or the corruption

That ventures through our

Daydream nation.

Bring out the power of higher education.

Let the next generated be graced with appreciation.

For a life without a voice box would be -1

-1 for 2-3 = -1

-1 for the number of lives lost in the fire.

-1 for the fetus that died in his mother’s womb.

-1 for the points you lost in Jeopardy.

-1 for the one less strawberry in the fruit salad.

-1 for the one less voice box in our world.

“ A man who dares to waste one hour of

time has not discovered the value of

life. ” –Charles Darwin

The Land of Nowhere

Pale ashen skin

Raw black eyes

Head full of hay

Where are you from, young boy?

The man asked him.

He looked,

Up

Into his wrinkly visage,

And replied,

Nowhere.

Shelter

Her somber eyes

Beaming at the

Thought of a

Loaf of bread.

When will I

Eat?

She thinks.

Like a street dog

Sinking into the Black Sea.

Hopeless.

Timorous.

Weak.

Under the heap of lies,

A striking, shy mortal,

Pale porcelain complexion

Covers the freight in her eyes.

A pointy red nose

With Hair as black

As the heap of lies

I found her in.

“ Every man dies. Not every man lives. ”

–William Wallace