The Pawn Massacre

War was a backyard game for presidents and kings

who knew that in the end, they would still be friends financially.

And they would have a few more heroic war stories,

movies

and songs
that would somehow be enough to make their people cheer.

So they played

and played.

And their people

grew up

to be corpses.

4G LTE

We don't want freedom, we want bars with beer and bars with 4G LTE.

Liberty never price matched so it can come after we open a few grocery stores,

and the pursuit of happiness ended with universal television and cheap porn.

So go, celebrate, we've finally won.

But remember,
Jimmy Fallon is on at ten

and those divorce papers are due soon.

Swings and Siblings

All he wanted to do was fly off the swings, cape flowing behind him-spandex uncomfortable though it may be-

He wanted to fight villains and save the city all before snack time.

Because that was right.

And that was noble.

And that was his purpose.

But the villains never showed up.

Only people, trying to do the best with what they'd been given.

Just like himself.

And what purpose was the hero without a villain?

That was the question he couldn't answer.

So he flew off that swing set, ever so lonely,

searching always for the villain

who never came.

And on the playground, he left behind his little sister.

Who just wanted her big brother

to push her on the swings.

Enough

I remember when the whole kindergarten class played kissing tag every recess.
Most of us secretly wanted to lose.

I remember fighting every lunchtime in fourth grade to prove I was a man
and never winning, but still growing up to be a man at the same rate as everyone else.

I remember when mom sang for our family talent show.
The music was malfunctioning as if performing didn't make her nervous enough.
Dad was on his phone
and I didn't know how to clap loud enough to tell her how much I loved it.

Highland Elementary, Pokemon, Blockbuster, and getting in a sword fight with Captain Hook at Disneyland because I dressed up as Peter Pan.
They're all still there.
Going to a Yankees game with dad the year Jeter retired was mainstream and didn't change the world but I love it just the same.

I remember too many best friends and not enough about what happened, but it's okay.
I remember the days before love, happy, lonely, mourning, humor, hope and so many other words meant so much. And I know they'll mean more in the future.
I remember when Billy Joel was the closest company I had and I can't forget a word from greatest hits CD.

I forgot so much
but I remembered enough for a poem
nostalgia
and a little learning.

And I wouldn't ask for more or less.

Jesse Kristin

Jesse Kristin is the blog of Gretel Beal, and  if you know Gretel at all you've probably noticed she has an amazing skill for cheering others up. So it's not surprising that her blog spreads that same happiness too, through her writing. Gretel, I've loved reading all your posts, but one in particular that I chose to help myself out was your "To Do List".

From cleaning my room to calling old friends Gretel's advice has improved my life with each task on the list. Tomorrow I'll be sharing how each one specifically helped me out.

Thanks for the challenge and advice, thanks for making the world happier, thanks for being you Gretel.

Little Girl, Nothing Wrong

Yesterday my little sister asked me why we're alive, and I had to pretend not to hear her.

I still think I handled it wrong.

But she's just a little girl with nothing wrong, and even when we hold hands, we're both still alone in a world where headlines will always take priority over life. In a place where sanctity is measured in soundbites,
at a time when I haven't existed for 2 hours because that's how long my phone has been off.

I still think I handled it wrong.

I'm sorry, I just couldn't find enlightenment on billboards
like I was supposed to.

But Brianne, the leaves are all but gone this December, and not even our undying evergreens have an answer to that question.

Brianne, my signature will mean something in 10 months, 2 days, nine hours and forty-three minutes, my leaves are all but gone too, and I still can't answer your question.

So I'll keep ignoring God because He can't keep my attention as long as the words "I don't know."

 I'll keep screaming at the sun to show itself because we deserve at least that much, then curse the blue sky when it finally comes and there's no answer hiding behind the clouds.

And on my gravestone maybe some graffiti artist will be kind enough to etch the words endlessly,

"I don't know I don't know I don't know"

because I can't ask my family to do it for me.

Brianne, I promise I heard you, and see you, and for what it's worth, love you.

But tomorrow we'll be gone as the leaves

evergreens will keep looking for their answer, more alone than ever

and I'll still think I handled it wrong.

i'm

The closest I ever came to a fist fight was in fifth grade when my little brother told our carpool that my middle name was Kelsey.
Because that was my biggest secret.
Because Kelsey was a girl's name.

So I guess this is full circle.

These words were a search for redemption in the form of dim computer screens and blood soaked graphite, pounding out of my heart in the hope that they would mean something to someone outside myself.

Here was sanctuary where sarcasm couldn't kill the blue bird.

Turns out blue birds can sing.

Turns out people can listen.

If only to a sentence,

you listened.

And you don't know how much it means.

So let's dance in the streets of Paris tonight, because whatever else may have happened,

We came

We saw

We cared.

And we broke a few self-indulgent stereotypes of people who can't sign waivers for themselves in the process.

If you really knew me, I'd have a lot of questions.

But I know enough to say,

no matter how much sentimentality and forced hugs can make me squirm

I do feel

I do love

I am human

and I always was

and I always am

and I always will be

Trevor Knorr.