“To Those Who Say I Must Hold My Nose”

“To those who say I must hold my nose”

 

To those who say I must hold my nose

And make a foolish stinky pick,

Integrity is what ev’ryone knows,

is intensely charismatic.

You may need help, when it comes to blows,

Here’s a tissue; mop your issue

Of the repulsive mucus that sticks

Like Hillary’s emails full of goo,

greed, spilled secrets, murder – it’s sick

Like Drumpf’s stench already imbues

The U.S. with Bullshit so thick.

He’ll shows us all the best words he knows

And where to aim the boogers we flick.

Johnson offers conservative drip:

Abortion bans, corporate weed;slick –

His change comes from service of lip,

Prestidigitation’s his schtick.

Together, let’s topple the steeple,

Take back Our country brick by brick

Stand with the Power of The People

Our grandchildren needn’t live sick.

We have a clearly positive choice

Not just the lesser of evils

Wisdom requires us to use our voice

And make that place where we’re equals.

They’ve gagged and hogtied Bernie Sanders;

The Revolution must go on

For uplifting change and advances

And satisfying denouement.

Honesty, and justice vote Jill Stein

Freedom and health main concerns,

Clean air, Earth and water divine,

We the People; Our Power Returned.

 

Hopefawn Levenson Robertson

9/7/2016

Dear Democratic Party, I’m Leaving You and I’m Taking the Kids

As an American citizen, I have some expectation that I have a voice in my government. This is probably naive, but this belief is a huge part of the foundation on which I build my happiness. This is…

Source: Dear Democratic Party, I’m Leaving You and I’m Taking the Kids

Author Spotlight: Andrea Hairston

Love this Author, be sure to check out her work! ❤
You're an inspiration, Andrea!

Annie's Book Stop of Worcester

06172016 - magic-cvr-lr

Annie’s Book Stop of Worcester is happy to welcome Andrea Hairston to our Spotlight blog!  Andrea has won multiple awards for her fiction and theatre contributions, and she will be at our bookstore on June 25, from 4:00 – 6:00 PM with Jennifer Allis Provost and musician Pan Morigan for an afternoon of Banjos, Attitude, and Magick.

Thank you so much for joining us, Andrea! We’re happy to have you at our store and our blog.  For those who don’t know about you and your work, what can you tell us about yourself?

I am the author of Redwood and Wildfire, winner of the 2011 Tiptree and Carl Brandon Awards, and Mindscape, winner of the Carl Brandon Award. Lonely Stardust, a collection of essays and plays, was published in 2014. My latest play, Thunderbird at the Next World Theatre, appears in Geek Theater. My third novel,

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How the Internet Sets This Revolution Apart From the 60’s/

We certainly live in exciting, interesting and terrifying times. Our world is crumbling before us. From the political and financial structures of countries and the psychological and social unrest around the globe to the devastating consequences of climate change affected by our own hands, and the Big Powers like the U.S., China, Russia and all of the Middle East are gearing up for WWIII – staging and puffing up like WWE wrestlers.

The difference between this world crisis and others is that it is now farther reaching in every aspect, than ever before. People in lower classes everywhere are fighting the same difficult conditions of social injustice, wealth inequity and environmental disaster. But now, we are connected. We have technological instant connections, smart phones, tablets, and computers, etc., where we share and learn about common plights and goals, and identify common oppressors in exponentially increasing numbers. The upper echelon of wealth is aware. That’s why our news and all sources of communication are now monitored, censored or manipulated. We are a Humanity, desperate for a voice of justice and integrity because our own voices are actively being taken away from us.

The 2016 Presidential Election process is being watched closely all over the world. Individual people from foreign countries are donating money and time and traveling and advocating for Bernie Sanders. This Candidate’s movement is universal.  Bernie is the underdog. The white light of good illuminating the path to benevolence, freedom and happiness. Mother Nature seemingly endorsed Sen. Sanders when a bird alighted upon his podium during a Portland rally, March 26, 2016 and spurred on the #BernieorBust energy of voters who will not let this opportunity pass. We remember the sixties, although I was a small child, there was heart and strength in the fights we tackled then. But there was nothing to hold the throngs of us together like there is now, and we will not be put down again. We will recognize the common nemesis, the greedy of the world, and we will hold them accountable.  We will hold on to the opportunity that Bernie Sanders has brought us.

Bernie Sanders is the only top running candidate who cares deeply about our environment or the working class and poverty stricken of America.  Or about the war-torn, famine-riddled, dying and extinction prone world we would be leaving our children and grandchildren under either Hillary Clinton or Donald Trump. They are both driven by money and ego.

If we are authentically benevolent and mean to truly lift each other up in this life and in the future, we must honestly stand up for ourselves and stay the course. While it is a terribly sad, burden to know that the evil in this world is so very powerful, I know another thing; there IS strength in numbers.  Take heart fellow citizens, for We Are; Bernie’s Legion!!

 

Mimzy’s Mo’Joe

coffee clip art

Coffee was the first experience I remember sharing with my Dad. He would wake up at 4am to get ready for work and first thing, put on a pot of Maxwell House coffee. Dad has always made astonishingly great coffee. If hearing him in the kitchen didn’t rouse me from my light sleep, the robust smell of his brewing coffee would gently stir me from slumber. At the first hint of the rich scent  I would pad out to the kitchen in my feet-pajamas, a four year old of peculiarly tiny stature, wipe the sleep from my  still mostly closed eyes and breathe in the heady aromas of the kitchen. Daddy’s coffee was an elixir, ironically soothing. Dad would fix me a small cup o’ joe. One quarter coffee, three teaspoons of sugar and three quarters warmed milk. I would gleefully sip my little cup as he read the funnies with me from the newspaper.  As I grew, the coffee vs milk proportions changed. But only Dad knew how to fix my coffee.

 

Coffee was with family breakfast on Sundays. It was served after dinners at which we had guests or it was holiday. It became part of my morning ritual. And part of my evenings when in my teens, my friends and I would hang out at diners, drinking copious pots of coffee and munching french fries with purple sauce or toasted corn muffins thick with butter. I laughed and cried uproariously,  mourned, comforted, commiserated and celebrated over much coffee in my life.  There has been coffee at every shivah, repast, hostess party, pot-luck, temple kiddush, wedding, b’nai mitzvot, bridal or baby shower, affair and party I have ever been to; even at a couple of break-ups. I studied with coffee, I wrote with coffee, I worked with coffee, I went to the beach with coffee. My life’s dream has been to have an artsy coffee house. Still a dream. But The Arts and coffee are always in my life.

The mere smell evokes the passionate emotion of life. These days I can even drink it black. But I still actually prefer a “New York regular” – two sugars and a little milk; lattes and cappuccinos are great, but for real comfort, just gimme an old fashioned cup o’ joe.

As an adult, I have made sure that all my children, whether they enjoy drinking the beverage or not, can fix a decent pot of coffee. I should have named one of them “Bean.”  Two of them have some form of “Joe” as a middle name.  They all know the quickest way to suck up to Mom is to fix her a good cup of coffee. Sometimes they surprise me and then stand before me, anxiously rubbing their hands together, awaiting the verdict on that particular pot. “Is it good?” They anxiously ask.  I close my eyes and breathe in the quite heady aroma. The dark luxurious liquid

Coffee fills me with blurred emotions and memories that flitter through me like butterflies. I take a sip and open my eyes with a contented smile as I swallow. “Mmm-mmm-good.” I declare and bask in the pride on my kid’s face.

One of the first things I fell in love with in my husband, was that he brings a scrumptious and steamy cup of Folger’s Black Silk coffee in bed every morning. And often in the evening. I found a man who not only enjoys coffee in the same romantic way I do; he makes it good’n strong like Daddy did. We like to try odd brands and roasts and we’re lucky enough to have family that gives us coffee gifts. Like the amazing and potentially dangerous Death Wish Coffee.

Funny, but when I call my husband my Coffee God, or inhale the full-bodied deep vapors and smile when he hands me my mug, he gets that same look of confidence and self-satisfaction the kids do. And I feel loved.

– Hopefawn Levenson

April 30, 2016

Parched Meant

Soaked up sun today, like my body had never experienced it before.

I wanted to absorb the rays as they filled my belly with wanton lust

yet dried my heart as Sahara sands.

No lotion or pomade will heal the scarred patches of  raw and

bloody pouches beneath my eyes.

Where the riverbeds are dry and a knowing drought ensues.

No happy crop will grow now, no hopes of harvesting a full

sustaining haul and storing for the lean season.

The lean season has crept up.

I talk to hear my own  parched voice, I breathe when I remember.

Neither brings bread nor water nor tears anymore.

I need no grave. It is hot and dry and I willingly go to dust.

I need no witness for the winds to scatter ashes.

 

Hopefawn Levenson – 7/2015