SINCE MY GRAND DAUGHTER GETS FAR MORE ATTENTION THAN I DO, I'LL PUBLISH ONE OF HER BLOGS:



happy winter

Well, It's official, I'm absolutely horrible at updating blogs. Ehhhh. The life of M is pretty dull at the moment. Swamped with homework and classwork and the likes. I have nothing of interest really to say... Heres a poem I wrote in Ninth grade for the unit on Vietnam in U.S. History? (This is relevant seeing as I've had to revise it of late)


Cataclysm


He left in the early morning

before the sun had even risen

a young boy

whose civic duty

seemed anything but fair



He left behind a future

a house

and a car

and a family.



His eyes grew old,

the child in him was dying.

He saw his friends,

gunned down,

wadding through yards

of elephant grass.



Death was rapid fire,

and close range.



He saw destruction

and though a peaceful man

his fingers became murderers

through the trigger of a machine gun.



He sought peace in himself

but an old man had come to live in his bones.



The letters from home were few

but when they came

the years in his eyes

were stripped

and tears ran.

He was a young boy

once more.



Though his body returned

his mind did not

and while his eyes were closed

his memories raged through his comatose.

And when they were open

he could only find peace when

nursing bottles of bourbon,

holding on for dear life.