Overeager

Sandbox bully

Demands the other kids' respect.
They should cower before him
And give him all their best toys.
The other ones tire of the bully
Ignore him and revile him,
Their fear absent.
They never felt afraid
Only annoyed at the brat
Who curses and screams
And befouls their playtime.
He stalks off homeward,
Certain of ruining their games
Without his awesome presence
Believing they will trail after
And beg his return.
Failing that, he stomps back,
Tries again to ruin their play
And break their toys.
The others simply stand
As the bully discovers
In horror
That they were always bigger
And stronger.
They merely allowed the little brat
To play with them
Because they pitied the friendless child,
But even their charity had limits.





- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Hidden world

Forever searching for the passage
To that hidden world
Of soft comforting
Dreams
That create normal life.
So many people live there
In the warm respite
Of familial security.
The rest of us are doomed
To forever see through
That protective veil
That separates us from them,
Knowing what we cannot have
But not why we are denied
The simplest rewards
When we've done nothing
To deserve punishment.
Forever longing for basic love
Happiness and safety,
While being tormented by
The sight of all who have
While we have not
And don't understand why.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Red Death

I hum from a life of dissatisfaction
Low and quiet
Keening to myself
For no one cares to hear
And no one cares to help.
Beaten down by
The whitewash
And the sugarcoating
That always fail to cover
The true abscess and rot
From within the system.
Decay continues when
It is given a back to hide behind
Popping out its infected
Boil-covered visage
To steal control
Where it should not even be allowed.
I have not forgotten that
Even amongst the smug revelers,
The Red Death held dominion over all.
That time will come to pass
And the blind puppets
Who handed the keys to the mummer
Will flee as rats from a sinking ship,
As the stalwart fall dead,
Oozing unforgiving scarlet drops
From every ravaged pore
And orifice.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Misled teacher - half life

it wasn't until I had been teaching for several years that I realized i had been lied to on many levels. my career of choice never turned into the rewarding experience we had been promised. it would be.

Supposedly teaching is something you do because of the intrinsic reward rather that expecting to be paid a wage that makes it tolerable to go to work each day.

To be fair to myself, I expected the first couple of years of my career to be rough as I got my bearings and learned the best techniques. And they were, but it was the environment rather than my lack of skill. Turns out I did my job fine, but it was the political aspect that nearly did me in.

You see, coming back into a school to teach is much the same as being there ad a student. There are cliques still - the people that kowtow to the administrators too, and if you aren't part of that in crowd, you are still ostracized, but it is on a professional level that can ruin your life if your life is your job.

Mine was. I had nothing else in my life outside of my job. Too many failed relationships left me too disheartened to hope that I would ever seem acceptable to any interesting man.

I still try to find someone though I won't admit it even to myself. I never can tell whether it's shame or anger that I feel when a man my age tells me I'm too old for him. That means, of course, that he is hoping to find a young, beautiful girl who is looking for a much older man.

The catch is that they want the hot young thing to fall in love with them and become arm candy but they can't understand that a young beautiful girl will only want them if there is money to be gained from the union. Such are the lives of the gold diggers and the dirty old men who think they are entitled to their charms.

I probably dropped the ball somewhere along the line. I dated a few much older men and discovered that their expectations of me ranged from that of nursemaid, to housekeeper, to kept woman By the time the last one finished treating me like a whore for the second time, I had had enough of all the older men.