About Name Calling

About Name Calling
So someone yelled out my acronym at me as I walked by her on my way to work this evening. So you're still reading my blog, are you? How lucky for me! You know, I practically hear an echo from the emptiness of this page every time I write something in it. And when you think you're alone, as I can't help but do here, you feel a lot more free about how to express yourself. Hell, if this one person, or one out of her gang of friends simply left a comment to let me know she's out there reading, I'd be a lot more careful. But then my posts would also be a lot more boring, wouldn't they.

I'm done another difficult day. The physical labour is a good therapy for me. I have a strong body and it needs exercise or I don't feel normal. When I started work today, I was truly in a suicidal state, but I feel better now.

You still reading? I wouldn't know. I'm going to keep writing anyway. I wanted to talk about slurring people's names. A few of you seem to think I have it coming for slurring names in my comedy blogs or in statements against stars who stole my blogs. You think I deserve to be mocked for getting ripped off by your cursed TV stars? You think a comedy blog is better when it has real names in it instead of more imaginative creations? You think a poet who got plagiarized thousands of times and lost all the money for his efforts deserves to be mocked? Keep watching your TV. Maybe it will tell you to jump off the bridge one day.

And now I want to talk about depression. Have you ever felt depressed? It's when you feel a tightness in your heart and an overwhelming urge to burst into tears. It's when you can't find any reason for carrying on living. It can last for hours or days. If it lasts long enough, it can drive you to suicide. Some people are born this way and I truly pity them. Others, like myself, are made that way by the cruelty of others - especially the monsters who rule us. Either way, it's a very debilitating condition. About all it's good for is writing poetry, and I just don't have the energy for that as I labour in this job.

I'm not going to lower myself to respond to the stupid put-down I had to take by a very selfish person as I went to work and minded my own business. I hope she doesn't learn about depression the way I had to; the way two of my friends here had to; two friends who aren't around anymore to help me feel less alone. I stand by every word I've shared. It's all true, and backed by solid logic. Go ahead and call me crazy, but there's nothing crazy about getting depressed from being crucified by the whole world.

Nothing but Ashes is a lovely tune. I'm very pleased with it, and it helps me feel better when I'm depressed. I whistled it as I rode around on the equipment today. So, is everyone finished loving the Rolling Stones for it? Don't forget, it's my funeral, right? That's all you had to say to me after I rewrote it. Thanks. That's so generous of you. What a waste of a beautiful song. Go listen to your obnoxious electronic pseudo-noise now. It doesn't sound human at all. Maybe it suits you for that reason.

Here's a poem I wrote in 2004. How old were you then? Look and see how I've been taking insults from strangers for as long as some of you have been on the earth. Hey, thanks for the memories.

A DIGUSTING POLL Copyright 2004 by David Skerkowski All Rights Reserved

She called me a disgusting Pole
thinking I'd not feel the jibe
Not only did it reach my ear
but heart as I can not describe

I am disposed to take the bus
for lack of money, that is sure,
and in the privacy I trust
to hold my liberty secure

But obviously I've been robbed
for strangers recognize my sight
and take it as a gleeful cue
my honest father's race to slight

Her friends they urged her on to scorn
They must have really got a kick
while I sat solo, back exposed,
and wondered if I might get sick

Malevolence is queer to come
from one I have not met before
my face more fodder for the lens
than one to cheerfully ignore

So let me beg another poll
on how you'd act if you were me
offenses brought against your kin
for merely showing you are free

And if you found your written word
suppressed by censor's fearful craze
when all you say is all you've lived
for most your filthy loveless days

And if you could not safely roam
a target for the spying creep
imprisoned in your parents home
with naught to do but write and sleep

And all of this without a friend
as real celebrities are given
but made instead a public toy
to see to what lengths you'll be driven

Is this poll not more disgusting
than the most outspoken curse?
Save your pains for online surveys
Perhaps they suit you more; they're worse.
  
More Statements Scripts Songs
© 2022. Statements by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.

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