Poetry by Pam

Does anyone care that I’m here? Am I being silenced? When do I receive closure? How can I be enhanced? Is it an inherent lack of interest? No one wishes to communicate? Am I the wrong type of guest? Do I not know how to play the game? Is it a secret club? Did I not pass? Do I give up? What didn't I grasp? How did I get here? Do I even have potential? How does everyone else know the game? What is the right answer?

medicine cabinet full skin looks dull eye so black she can't wink hair in sink give up that wig sunglasses too big think that will hide it can't see inside it think that's all no longer appalled when will she learn to protect herself

When did we get so complacent with our trash especially our cigarette butts How did we end up here with our problems and our disease producing lusts Dirty laundry piled up high overwrought with intricate webs of practiced deceit and omission of guilt pick up after yourself clean up cancer, clean up AIDS "Just say NO!" campaigns ignored interlaced with rash decisions The evidence of effective communication is in a clean room and this room is filthy! Epilogue Courtesy of CNN.COM 10/21/08: Since 2004, a free Web site, www.inspot.org has allowed users to anonymously notify their partners to get tested for STDs such as HIV, gonorrhea, chlamydia and syphilis. It may not be the most personal way of delivering the news, but researchers say it beats not saying anything at all.

I pondered if it was mistook then proposed a second look that's all it took the bait never forsook like fish on a hook

Called to be Empowered not too long ago Took me by suprise prepared to contemplate ignorance I didn't partake of this luxury others couldn't identify me The sun didn't shine as bright anointing came from midnight Things and people change my voice sounded strained Critical becomes necessary morning comes after midnight I finally stopped to smell meticulous selection aged perfection the blazing sun kissed anointing of destiny Then a loud noise now a silent butterfly poised to take flight voices awake after midnight I could be heard with words sanctioned as a gift to the beholder or just a present to myself

The infamous calendar An incomplete blur of haze An infinity of days Lines slashed cut with a fine point One ending one beginning So few and yet so many It marks the importance of life the need to be less busy or the need to be less lazy I don’t know when it began The infamous calendar and blur of haze with finite days written 031908