Friday Post!!

First, I must say...Art is a representation of it's artist yes, but when it comes to me and my poetry aka rhythmic reflections everything I write about doesn't depict my life. I write about the homeless, yet I haven't been homeless. I write about being a prostitute, and I've never been pimped. I write about being autistic, but I am blessed to be able to interact with the world around me. I write about having a son, and I have a daughter. I write about having a husband in the military, and I do not. I don't know how many times I need to emphasize that I write about everything that I see. I've seen happiness. I've seen death, suicide, murder. I've seen poverty. I view the world through many peoples eyes. That's what makes me so good. So please readers, when you read something dark..remember where you are..Poetrynoir!

Right now I am so tired. I am in no way a -wake up -before 7 a.m. person, and of my classes are early in the morning:( Then when I am done with 3 classes each day I drive a hour to work, and a hour back home. That is two hours out of my day that I could be using to do some of this homework that I have.

My kids at the after school program are still rowdy, and very disobedient. Today I am trying to read a story while the other teacher sets up for arts and crafts. One baby *she's 2* is being picked up by her aunt, and this new girl *she's 17* that they hired shut the door on Mikey's foot. Then instead of attending to him, she starts to ask us if the little girl had made a puppet. She knew already that she made a puppet because she saw me helping her make it. I was pissed by this point because she is really supposed to be there to help me. She is only 17, so therefor she cannot be left with the children alone!! So I take Mikey who is turning red, and screaming at the top of his lungs to the kitchen. I wipe his face off because he kept smearing his spit and tears all over his face and hands. I gave him some water, and he finally settled down. But get this..when the chick pulls back the curtain to the kitchen Mikey sees her and starts to scream and cry all over again. I mean big tears. He doesn't like her. Then instead of watching the remaining kids who are now running all over the place, she is fiddling with her IPOD. She started to play the "Cha Cha Slide". I'm like WTF..But you should have seen Mikey. He was sitting on top of the freezer, and he started to dance. He had rhythm! It was the cutest thing. I think I've found my special connection with Mikey. I have been observing Mikey, and I'm not sure if he is really autistic. He definitely has some social issues because he doesn't play with the other kids. Although he is totally into himself he understands the world around him somewhat. This I know for a fact when he saw that girl..."AAAAHHHHHH." Mikey...

I'm sure everyone
Who has a deep penchant to become
A great communicator
Have all sat in seats like ours
And felt the butterflies inside their stomachs
Flutter and fly around
They've felt a heart that feels to be beating so hard
That us nervous people are convinced that is audibly loud

It's almost like a thrill
A roller coaster of emotions
That can be hard to control
The deciding factor
Is will you or I let trepidation take hold?
........And cause you
Stumble over all of your words
Will you use filler words like..
Like or um?
Or will you take charge
Like firing a gun?

Nervousness is natural
But it is when it takes over
That's when it can't go unnoticed
You shake and shiver
As you struggle to enunciate each syllable
Your hands shake, and your legs wobble
You think everyone is laughing at you
But in all actuality they are probably
Just as scared as you..

I say just jump in
Either you will sink or you will swim
A cliche' I know
But what would life be..without them
They are true.,
Yet just slightly over used
Every time I have to speak now
I am going to try to remember my words
And take many, many deep breaths
Then suck it up..
And do what I gotta do..