This poem was written in 2014, but it’s just as poignant today, on the poet’s 31st birthday.

Nightmerica by Tyler Pugliese

I imagine it was hard to begin,
200 plus years ago with a dream and a pen,
Where to start, how to be free
Of never sun-setting British Tyranny.

We the people, in order to form a more perfect union . . .

Have now been overwhelmed by political campaign contribution.
A dilution of moral resolution and lack of spirited revolution,
Speaks to me, as I find myself without patience,
Pledging allegiance, to the United States of Corporations.

What I have is the foreboding fear,
Of being stripped of those freedoms we hold so dear.
I declare these neglected truths to be self-evident,
As I dare defy myself, my government, and our president.

I reminisce about the faith I used to have in the Constitution,
Which is feeling more like a con, solicited by a corrupt institution.
An administration without my best interests in mind,
With incentives to bribe politicians and keep pockets lined.

I don’t have an expectation, just a political sensation,
That my meager donation can’t match a SuperPAC Foundation.

This is the realization of the future, of our generation,
Student loans, foreclosed homes, and tear-gassed demonstrations.

How to confess the agonizing distress,
When violence is used to suppress civil unrest.
Why is saying, “I’m angry!” grounds for being oppressed?

Yet I’m afraid. How’s that for a confession?
I feel powerless in a not-so Great Depression.
If I can’t change myself, how do I grab their attention?

They think they can buy our rights, auction off our elections?
Our democracy is not another monetary transaction.

We face a threat from within, a new form of tyranny.

This is Nightmerica, and you’re here with me.

We are citizens of liberty, against a tax exempt corporate entity.
We have a problem, they have a lack of accountability.

They own blackmail, white houses and grey ethics.
We are poetic, pragmatic academics.

They break laws of exchange, write blank checks and sow dissension.
We deal in cold hard change and the masses want back their pension.

We are a revolution of passion, we value only retribution.

Hi, We’re the people and we’re here for our Constitution.

It Happens All The Time

I offer this poem (a favorite of mine) by Hafiz written in the 1300’s in Persia.

It Happens All The Time – Hafiz

It happens all the time in heaven,
And some day
It will begin to happen
Again on earth –
That men and women who are married,
And men and men who are
And women and women
Who give each other
Often will get down on their knees
And while so tenderly
Holding their lover’s hand,
With tears in their eyes,
Will sincerely speak, saying,
‘My dear,
How can I be more loving to you;
How can I be more kind?’

“I am odd. I am new.”

oddnewHere is a poem that’s gone viral, written by Benjamin Giroux, a 10-year old with Asperger’s Syndrome, a form of autism. Benjamin was featured on the Today show and is an ambassador with the National Autism Association.

His father remarked “Ben’s goal was to have people understand that being odd is different, and different is amazing, and people shouldn’t be afraid of who they are, and that makes me one proud father!” – Sonny Giroux

The text of Benjamin’s poem follows, as well as a link to a video where you can learn more about him. Thank you Benjamin for your poem and your courage.

I am odd I am new
I wonder if you are too
I hear voices in the air
I see you don’t and that’s not fair
I want to not feel blue
I am odd I am new
I pretend that you are too
I feel like a boy in outer space
I touch the stars and feel out of place
I worry what others might think
I cry when people laugh it makes me shrink
I am odd I am new
I understand now that so are you
I say I “feel like at castaway”
I dream of a day that that’s okay
I try to fit in
I hope that some day I do
I am odd, I am new