Beacon of Hope

I was there when ordinary people raised arms against tyranny and the country was born. I led the charge against slavery and I honored thousands who died for equality. I was raised on the hill top at Iwo Jima after 26,000 soldiers died in my name. They lay down their lives willingly for me, for I represent freedom and pride. I am a symbol of peace and unity. I am a beacon of hope for the oppressed and I drive terror into the heart of those that prey on the innocent.

I was held high as the swastikas were torn down from buildings and under me was fascism expelled from the earth. I have travelled around the globe thousands of times honoring those who believed in me. I have stood in silence at the funerals of 2,977 innocents who died under the collapse of the world trade center and the attack of the pentagon. I hung over the caskets of five Texas police officers who were murdered, just for wearing a badge. I was folded into the arms of weeping mothers and wives. Their tears absorbed into my fabric and are now a part of me. I was present when Doherty and Woods died defending the people of the embassy in Benghazi. I have seen dark days of hate and sorrow but I remain the symbol of peace and the evidence of moral excellence.

Those who pledge allegiance to me, pledge to unify the people of the country under me, and to defend free speech and rights of all, no matter what race or country they originate from. People can never be fully perfect but I represent the perfection we strive for. I’m the inspiration for greatness and ambition. I’ve watched skyscrapers built as the America succeeded all other countries through a fair-trade capitalist republic.

But suddenly, I am under attack. Children, armed with bats, wearing black masks have ripped me from my place and stomped on me. They hung me upside-down and lit me on fire. Those who do not know my history do not understand theirs. Those who I defended have turned their backs on me. Believing my stars and stripes to be signs of hate, they’ve attacked me, spitting on the graves of hundreds of thousands who died for the freedom my attackers enjoy. In discontent, claiming they’ve suffered oppression, they disrespect the moral foundation of the country as they get paid millions to throw a ball.

But I will still wave above the buildings and from the flag poles. I am not intimidated, I have been attacked before… And the rocket’s red glare, the bombs bursting in air, gave proof through the night that our flag was still there…
I will always be there. I will always be the symbol of unity, hope and freedom… For we are one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.

-Johnny

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My Addiction is Fiction

Doctor, doctor help me!

The problem is, you see

I have quite the addiction

To a genre called fiction. 

It’s stronger than any drug. 

Crueler than the cruelest thug. 

It messes with my emotions

And switches my loyalties and devotions. 

Is it my fault for caring more

For a character than life’s old bore?

I once read a book and then cried

Because a dear friend had died. 

But the friend, you see

Was a person of literary quality. 

I once went to to the park, 

But I just read until dark. 

I do go out occasionally!

But in all honesty, I’d rather read a dictionary. 

Doctor, doctor is there a cure?

Sure, you say. Sure sure. 

But cured, do you want to be?

Well….no. Not really. 

Julie (:

When a Mortal defeated the Immortal

The earth shook and blazed

Cities and houses were razed.

Death was busy, far too busy

taking those who’d just began to be.

It was chaos,

and what was the cause?

A god had been slighted

and it would not be quieted.

And in the midst of this war

was a man, broken to the core.

In vain he had sheltered his love,

from the fire that rained from above.

In vain he had held his young,

from the calamity the gods strung.

In vain he had prayed,

that their wrath would be stayed.

But all was in vain,

for his family lay slain.

The gods fought their brother

and didn’t notice the other,

who made a bargain with death,

traded for revenge with his breath.

What else could he give?

For what could he live?

And when he appeared again from the dark,

He strode in command, like a monarch.

There was a steel in his eyes,

for he was death in disguise.

He traveled, until he made his way

to where the gods stay.

And with a sword in hand

he made his way through their land.

He fought them as their equal,

he had no qualms with being cruel.

But the gods, so busy fighting each other

did not notice there was another,

until a peace was pieced,

then they wondered about the deceased.

Did their war kill as many as were gone?

They pondered this, dusk till dawn,

While death laughed and danced

at the only deaths he romanced.

The gods didn’t think to ask death,

until another one lost his breath.

And when they discovered it, they raged

that against them war was waged.

But how could they find a mortal man

in such a vast land?

But as gods fell one by one

they scoured the land even more

till they found him at death’s door.

A battle was fought then and there

of which there is nothing to compare.

How could a mortal win alone

against immortals made of stone?

But he fought, fought and died

But here is something death would confide

Though mortal that man, forever he will live

For the gods cruelty he would not forgive.

His body is buried at death’s door

but his wrath lives evermore

In the stories of the mortal

who waged war on the immortal.

 

This is my first time sharing a poem that has absolutely nothing to do with my experiences or emotions. This is the type of writing I enjoy the most. I am not confident enough to share my stories with you, so here is the poem form of one my stories…sort of.

Julie K

 

 

 

Content To Shine

I used to cry as I compared myself to the moon

For the one’s who praise the loudest, praise the sun at noon

I always wanted to be praised, like the sun

But I am more the light when the day is done.

Now I smile quietly, when I think of it

It isn’t something I regret, not even the slightest bit.

For while the sun in orange hues rises brilliantly

and dies in purple and pink hues dramatically

the moon is content to rise while people watch the sun die

Content to shine, while the world says goodnight and goodbye.

Content to smile on the few that see her alone

The dreaming, loving, poetic souls all on their own

sending their wishes to the moon’s calming shine

And listening to her whisper “Everything will be fine.”

 

-Julie

Just a random thought I had while on the swings last night. It’s been a while since I updated, so I thought I’d share this with you. (=

 

 

I’m Still Here And Fighting. 

If I had listened to you all those years ago

I would have nothing to show

I would have killed myself by now

Without running on stage to take my bow

For all those times you made me bleed

That painful addiction, you made me feed

I wish I could throw you away, like you do me

But there is some good to you, I see.

So very many people have you in their heads

And every so often you lead them to deathbeds

And simply because I wrestled you those years

I hear your voice when my friends mention fears

I see your suffocating lies in their eyes

I feel it when their love for life dies.

Yes, because of you I suffered and still do

But also, I feel everything stronger too

I refuse to be beaten by your lies

I refuse to say my goodbyes

And if I have the power

I won’t run or cower

I want to put a smile on the faces

Of all the people you’ve turned into cases

I want to reach my hand out

To the people you’ve made doubt.

I am not strong, I have not won yet

But I must pay a debt

To the person who saved me when I was broken

That gave me the gift that silently has spoken

The gift of an escape that strays from death

The gift of stories on every breath.

So, as I was once attacked, I will fight back

and give all my love to those still on the rack

Their battles are different from my own, it’s true

but supporting them through

is the least I can do.

 

-Julie

 

What Even??

I either sleep too much or not enough

I either cry too much or act too tough

I am either productive or lazy

there is no in between for me.

I am either anxious or depressed

Which situation is best?

I can write a thousand words in a moment

Or I could spend a day without making a dent.

I can read through the sun and the moon

But sometimes I can’t put my book down too soon.

Music can either make me happy and strong

or it can make me feel completely wrong.

Sometimes I think I’ve got life down

and the next day I’m taken to town.

I don’t think I really know anything about me,

Because the next day I’ll act differently.

 

 

 

I Will Be Me

I trip on my feet as I go down the stairs.

I could make a few nests with all the hairs

I find on the shower walls and in my hairbrush.

When I am nervous, all my words gush.

My hands shake when I’m tired.

Last year my good ideas all retired.

I love easily and in no time

I think in poetry or in rhyme.

I throw my arms wide and dance in the rain

I don’t hide when my heart’s in pain.

I laugh at my mistakes,

But those laughs are all fakes.

It breaks me when I know I’ve failed,

But those emotions I keep jailed.

I manage to fall on thin air and flat ground

Sometimes I feel like I’m trapped and bound.

I really do enjoy being alone,

But I hate being on my own.

I randomly start crying for no reason,

tears are my allergies every season.

I am not particularly clever or of quick wit

I am not easily motivated, it’s easy to quit

I don’t like feeling under or over appreciated

I get angry if without reason I am hated

I dream about dragons, fairies, and adventures

but in reality, I hide under the covers.

I have been told frequently that I am strange

And the truth is, I don’t want that to change.

Because, I am my own person, don’t you see?

I will be me

Even if me is a little weird.

 

 

-Julie