It was the day of the Christmas game and fans
Piled in to cheer their team. The air was tense
And people debate who's going to win the game.
The teams were rivals and fans were enemies.
The game began the Celts prevail and lead.
The audience is full of both teams fans
Some fans sit next to each other and watch
While the teams fight to overcome the other.
Two fans begin to argue who will win game.
They stop and watch and don’t talk to the other.
The ref doesn’t call a foul and both start ar-
guing. They still argue over the call
And people begin to watch. They get louder
And louder ‘til one punches the other.
The other reacts and punches back and soon
They’re locked in battle; they can’t and won’t stop it.
Their fists fly fast, their tempers flare, voices rise.
They punch each other, yelling for non-stop
Until at last, security arrives.
They hold them back and don't let ’em fight
They stop the fight and keep the fighters far.
They calm them down and walk them up the stairs
Of the big stadium, the game proceeds
And people stop staring and watch the game.
The guards bring them out to the front so they
Can sort it out away from the game. They an-
Grily walk to their cars and drive back home.
The forest is a dark and scary place
Tall oak trees never coming to a end
Creatures running all around the forest
Chance of dying any minute in there
Water traveling fast down the wide stream
Strange noises coming from all around you
High hills, small pits walking is a struggle
Walking in caution in fear of big snakes
You don’t know what is behind the next tree
Don’t take the wrong step it could cost your life
The chance of torrential downpour at sight
The sky started to become pitch black dark
The the tall oaks were shaking from the hard wind
I scattered to collect wood for schelter,
When the rain started to slowly come down
The rain started to rapidly pick up,
That’s when I knew I was in big trouble
All the pits started to fill with water
My feet were slipping after every step
I started to become very nervous
The river water was escalating,
Up the side, so I started running fast
Sprinting fast with my own life on the line
Jumping over any twigs in the way
The river was catching up to me quick
Water started to flow into my shoes
Pulled under the chaotic water
Heart beat suddenly coming to a end.
The cool breeze whistles through the open field.
The fog stretches miles on this day.
The infield dirt is crackled from the cold
Snow layered atop it for several months.
The outfield grass slick and wet from the
Melt snow that is now deep in the ground.
It doesn't look pretty now but in a
Weeks time it will look as new as ever.
Strikes painted on the black, singles up the
Middle. This is where it happens. Baseball.
The long winter stretch of severe cold
A family of bunny’s nestled in the ground
A warm and cozy burrow to escape.
Smack in the middle of the baseball field.
Young bunny’s born throughout the winter days.
Born in their cozy den, not knowing
Anything else. What happens if their home
Gets destroyed, where will they live moving forward.
The baseball season must go on but at
What cost. What about the bunny’s cozy home?
The baseball season must continue on
Right? Of course, it's not worth halting for bunnies
Everything has a value in this day
And age. What are bunnies worth? Probably
Not much compared to the value of the
Whole baseball season. Society is
Full of conflict and problems everyday.
Value decides the fate of the conflict.
Higher value almost always prevails.
The den of a family of bunnies.
The baseball field for the baseball team.
Equally valuable to each side of
The conflict. Both firm about their values.
Must we choose one or the other in this
Instance? Is there a clear correct choice here?
Every conflict has at least two sides.
Every side wants what is best for themselves
However, that is not always possible.
Take what you can get but give to others as well.
I stand on the brink between life and death
A fabulous, gleaming emerald bridge
For one side is hued with darkness like ink,
the other with light and morality.
The chance I have to be standing here now,
An option to be assumed untroubled.
I may be looking upon heaven and hell,
As each of their characteristics match.
I may be looking upon life and death,
As the circumstances do fit quite well.
Or behind each door lies a truth untold.
Who does really know what lies behind death
Which one I shall choose remains a problem,
As I don't know what either of them are.
But I believe that if I choose the light,
I could live up to my wildest of dreams,
The most impressive man that walked world
Has ever seen. Or I might go on to fly,
With both those glorious angelic wings,
Hovering above the clouds in the sun.
And I believe that if I choose the dark,
I would die a peaceful and a pleasant death,
that floats into the void I never see.
I might plunge down to the blazing heat of hell,
A’land of distraught unforgiving pain,
being of spirit and soul stuck in’a hole.
But I now wonder, if I were to run,
From the inevitable fate that is
Doomed to come. The fate’of death gets all but some.
The few that run, do so by accepting
their fate and fully refusing to lie.
They leap headlong into the tight hold’of death.
I stand and wait and rack my searching brain
T’process, the endless outcomes to come’of this.
I decide to take my chances with the dark
As I know that it is my resting place.
For I and I alone know my full past,
And I know that I alone will not last.
A literary reflection on the life of Arnold Spirit
Poverty doesn’t give you strength or teach you lessons about perseverance. No, poverty only teaches you how to be poor.
~Arnold Spirit
Hope is as rare as a pegasus in the mind of Arnold Spirit. Even so, it is the only thing in his life that stands to combat the unforgiving poverty that controls him. At this point hope is the only thing left that can help him to escape from the clutches of poverty that controls himself as well as his reservation.
“Success is not final, failure is not fatal: It is the courage to continue that counts.” | – Winston Churchill
Arnold Spirit’s life has been a climb harder than Mount Everest. Beginning with poverty and ending with looking different from everybody else, with numerous family deaths, beatings and insults somewhere in between, Arnold, who goes by Junior, has had a miserably, awesome, yet terrible life. Along with the poverty and the search for identity, is the sarcasm, the thing that makes Junior a teenager, the thing that makes him human, the thing that allows him to persevere. Junior plays the best round he can with the cards he’s been dealt.
