A brief glance at dance or The grounding of the Grind

Once there were the flappers
way back in the day,
the way they flapped and bared their legs
was considered quite risque.

Then there was the "Lindy"
and of course the "Jitter-bug"
the adults didn't like it,
all this "cutting of the rug".

In the 50's it was Elvis
who ground a bit himself.
It took the Beatles and the 60's
to put him on the shelf.

The "Boogaloo", the "Billy",
the "Shimmy" and the "Twist",
My older sister became a twister
and Boy! my folks were pissed.

In my time it was Disco,
a dance we all regret.
I shudder just to hear the word,
I'd just as soon forget.

With the "Rappers" came the "Breakers",
with the "Hippers" came the "Hop".
"Could you please turn down the volume!
Will this nonsense never stop?"

Now the kids are grinding
and it makes use geezers flip.
All the grabbing and the groping
and the gripping of the hip.

So if you grind you're grounded
and if you're grounded you may find
Saying to yourself,
"My god, my mothers lost her mind!"

"This grinding must be grounded,
if not by reason then by force."
Its always been that parents
don't want their kids to "intercourse".

So if you find yourself
at a Vashon High School dance,
just relax and take a deep breath
For at least they're wearing pants.

By Jake Dillon

I wish I didn't care

I wish I didn't care
By Nancy Greggs:

I wish I didn’t care that some children sleep
Hungry and cold, too weary to weep
Too hopeless to know that others could share – but won’t
I wish I didn’t care

I wish I didn’t know that some people die
Alone and friendless, without knowing why
Wanting to question why no one is there – but don’t
I wish I didn’t care

I wish I didn’t see what’s there on the news
Meant not to enlighten, but just to amuse
Designed to remind me what I could do – but can’t
I wish I didn’t care

I wish I didn’t know in my heart
That I am meant to do my part
To speak, to write, to sing, to plan
To do whatever it is I can
To give, to teach, to help – assist
Those who fight, speak out – resist
I wish I didn’t know I could
Change the world – if only I would
I’d be free, and unaware
If I could just not care

This is my burden, this is my task
To have to wonder, deign to ask
Why some have what is deemed their lot
Why some are valued, and others not

I wish I didn’t care about it all
Who lives, who dies, who heeds the call
Who listens, who hastens, who risks the fall
Of the concept, the dream
That we can be all that we seem
And never falter on our way to where we’re going, if only we go there together

I wish I didn’t care that my brothers are mine
That my sisters are sisters, subdued but sublime
That they are in my keeping, as I am in theirs
I wish I didn’t care.

But I do. And so do all of you.

It’s not about who they are; it’s about who you are.

Just care. A little goes a long way.

So try it.

Poetry blogging: Block head

“A writer’s block is in his head.”

The famous Sigmund Freud has said.

But I’m annoyed with Dr. Fraud

for now we’re left to fill the void.

The void is vast, it’s wide and deep

It keeps me up, it haunts my sleep.

Burst worst of all this, wretched void

has left the author unemployed.

So if you’re head has got a block,

Remember that its not a rock.

It isn’t either made of stone,

Alas you’re head is only bone.

Jake II ‘09

What teachers make

Definitely beautiful.