Tag: unemployed

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Twofer Tuesday Poetry: Employment is Relative & February 13, 2016

Employment Is Relative

I discovered true happiness
When I was unemployed.
I always worried about money,
About food,
About bills,
But not much else.
It was almost freedom.

I spent my time
Bouncing between libraries,
Coffee shops,
Or quiet outdoor patios.
I would write.
I would read.
I would revise and rewrite.

Living the dream.

I always felt
Everything happened for a reason.
It was a rough patch,
This unemployment.
It lasted
Too long
For my comfort.

It was necessary – 

I had to
Live my passion,
If only for a moment.
I glimpsed at my future.
My beautiful future.
A homeless
Starving
Writer.

What a dream I have
For myself.
I’ll fill it with
Rejection letters,
Unfinished stories
And drafts,
Lists of ideas
For stories and poems,
And the thoughts
Of a lunatic mind
With no hope
Of recovery
Or redemption.

Such is the life of
A writer.

There’s never enough paper
For the whirlwind of thoughts
The mind endures.

Too many thoughts
Forgotten.
Never enough time to write them
Unless
You’re unemployed.

February 13, 2016

They told me
There was a problem
On the dancefloor.
I saw nothing.
I knew nothing.
A regular customer
Pointed at someone.
I asked to talk outside.
He said, “No!”
He argued with me.
He wanted to fight.
I asked his friends
To get him outside.
They argued with me.
If I forced him out,
This would become a brawl.
Someone got in his face.
I told them to back off.
The guy and his friends left.
I took the person who
Got in the guy’s face
To the back gate.
Their behavior was the problem.
They called me Transphobic,
And said there was a hate crime.
I told them to call the police.
The next day, they boycotted the bar.
They said I kicked them out,
But listened to the
Douchebag straight guy’s story.
They said our bar and 
The macho security
Hated trans people.
They never spoke to
Us or came back.
They don’t know
The douchebag straight guy
Tried to fight me.
He never came back.
Trans people still go to that bar.

From the poetry collection Men Are Garbage.

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I Don’t Give Up


I am unemployed.  I search for work almost every day.  Now and then I get lucky and get an interview, but they always find someone else who’s more qualified for the job.  I feel I’m not qualified enough for any job. But still I search and apply.  I have an internal battle every day.  I want to push everyone in my life away and become a hermit who hides from everyone and everything.  This hiding isn’t so much out of fear but because I can’t learn to function around other people.  No matter how long I’ve known them, I find myself feeling out of place and lost everywhere.  But still I try to connect with others and force myself into social settings.

I have several things I want to do; several ambitions.  Being unemployed and barely having money for food or utilities has put many of those things on hold.  It’s an issue of priority.  Basic needs must come first, followed by security, and then pursuing the many ambitions I have.  It’s never easy foregoing one’s dreams to deal with basic necessities.  But still I pursue those dreams.  Though at a slower pace than I would prefer.  The dreams always feel too far away to reach.  But still I reach.  The negativity in my mind holds and pulls me down deeper and deeper into a black pit of darkness.  But still I fight to break free.

I’m beginning to feel that my only options are to move to another city and another state to find work, reenlist in the military which means I’ll be sent who knows where for at least 3 years, or do something that will send me to prison just, so I can have food and a place to sleep.  Each of these scenarios means moving farther away from my dreams and ambitions and giving up everything I’ve built thus far.  I grew up being told by everyone to follow my dreams.  All that has brought me is more struggle and pain.  But still I dream.  If I had given up on my dreams, I would be even more depressed and miserable than I am now.

I don’t know what the future holds.  I feel stuck and trapped and it feels like my situation keeps getting worse.  I know things will get better, but my concern is how long that will take.  How long will I fight and struggle and lose everything before I can move forward? Will I keep fighting to the bitter end or will it all finally get to me, break me down, and cause me to give in and give up?  I can’t give up because I have nothing else.  I feel I’m stuck in a room full of people, but no one is allowed to speak to me or help me.  I’m an outcast; a pariah.  Even when I ask for help, I still have to fight it alone.  But still I persevere.  I never give up and never surrender.  I never let the darkness keep me.