Webster's dictionary defines resistance as the refusal to accept or comply with something. This idea, of resisting what we believe is wrong, is the very base of our society. Our leaving England was a form of resistance. The democracy we are so proud of is built upon the idea of letting people resist. Many of the parts of the day-to-day American society are resisting other countries, namely England. We don’t use u’s in many of our words, whereas they do. Our soccer is everyone else's football. Our chips are their crisps. Many of the things we do, we do to resist.
My poems don’t share on particular theme, besides resistance. My first poem resists stereotypes about vegetarians. There are many stereotypes about vegetarians and vegans. Vegetarians are weak, they are all liberal, vegans and vegetarians are the same thing, they are all preachy, they are all hippies, etc. In my poem I address some of these, but I mostly talk about the idea that vegetarians/vegans are all scrawny and weak. I also bring up olympic weightlifter, Kendrick Farris. I hope when people read my poems, especially this one, they will start thinking more critically of and about society's stereotypes and standards.
This unit has helped me grow as a poet. Before this unit, I viewed poetry as something difficult and unenjoyable. Now I realize that poetry can be fun, if you really work at it. After viewing many examples, I just wrote from the heart. For me, this means resisting stigmas and stereotypes, a theme I hope to continue with future works.
“This meat is fake meat.
It tastes like burnt fruit leather.”
Wrong! It doesn’t come from misery.
It doesn’t taste like death.
Fakon doesn’t live in a pen
Unable to stand, up to it’s knees in it’s own waste.
I can stand. I can lift. I can jump. I’m not scrawny and weak.
You can’t call olympic weightlifter Kendrick Farris scrawny and weak.
Scrawny and weak.
He used to eat meat, he was a carnivore
Now he says “Carnivale.”
His mind is clear now, he can focus now, he can lock in now, pump and lift
Salad all day? Avocado, guacamole, quesadillas.
Protein, protein, protein? It passes right through, it passes right through
Why are carnivores so defensive? They have guilt, but my mind is at ease.
The Third Of May
The brain, the brush
that long red stain,
seeping into the ground.
Was not the time
between the walls
of birth and of death
But still, this massacre
must shorten it.
And only one protests,
white-shirted, arms upraised
in one last plea.
If he had the time
he might be singing,
might tell them
that life still has its treasures open
to him at least,
perhaps for them.
But these are no times for song,
only that flinging of his arms
is permitted for him,
and all his dazzling white
and tar-dark eyes
are but a silhouette
against the background of death.
One moment here
or rather a millionth of a moment
and life will come to a stop,
filled with blood.
I am a woman.
I am woman.
And I am marrying the man of my dreams.
And I am marrying the women of my dreams.
My parents are so happy. They talk about how they’ve dreamed of this day since I was little.
My parents are disappointed. They talk about how they want me to have a real marriage.
The venue is a church. All of my family is going to be there.
The venue is a dingy bar. It’s just going to be me, my wife and the pastor.
We’ve spent years planning.
We’ve spent years planning, but we only recently got the right to marry.
My dress is white and lacy.
We didn’t have time to get dresses.
On the day of, everything is perfect.
On the day of, all we focus on is getting through the ceremony.
When we leave, there are people cheering.
When we leave, we are yelled at and ridiculed.
We go to the wedding reception next.
We go to our house next.
This is the happiest day of my life.
This is the happiest day of my life, but I’m also sad.