No Way to the Chicago 2016 Olympics!

It’s bad enough our State falls under ridicule regarding our political parties and their corrupt customs, but it’s inexcusable for our Mayor to make a decision on his own regarding the 2016 Olympics. He signed a contract making the city take full financial responsibility should anything happen, such as cost increases or a disastrous situation. This leaves the Chicago taxpayers vulnerable to a debt that we were never given a choice to vote on. Mayor Daley and the Olympic Committee claim they’re taking insurance policies out to cover additional costs. I’d like to know who is selling them the insurance policies?

Our State can’t even balance the State Budget because there's no money, which impacts the City of Chicago yet the “mayor is still counting on the private sector to shoulder the lion's share of the cost though already there is some public-sector participation planned.” Counting on? He’s banking on an assumption and a want during an economic crisis without taking into account city taxpayers. We already have the highest sales tax in the country. We top the highest gas prices when they go up. It will take years for us along with the rest of the country to recover and financially catch up after this economic crisis, and then we’ll get hit with more debt. I can guarantee you many people will leave the City of Chicago to avoid anymore financial headaches and heartaches.

Even Forbes says Chicago is third worst city on their America’s Most Miserable Cities list. “Lousy weather, long commutes, rising unemployment and the highest sales tax rate in the country are to blame for the Windy City being near the top of our list. High rates of corruption by public officials didn't help either… There has been a net migration of people out of Chicago for seven straight years, a trend that is expected to continue.”

The sad thing for me is I love this city. This city was created by hard working people. Those who built and worked hard around and during the Chicago World’s Columbian Exposition in 1893 are no longer around. There’s a new breed out there and the trusting company/employee relationship is long gone. And with the unsteady nature of current world affairs, it isn’t unlikely for terrorism or other types of catastrophic situations to arise.

This continuing trend of corruption and deception, along with the 2016 win will force me to move out of the city. If I and others make the decision to migrate out of Chicago, who will be left to pay the bill? I highly doubt it will be Mayor Daley.

Skipping Stone Memories Poem!

I wrote this the other day in an attempt to write a Palindrom Poem – Mirrored Poetry. This type of poem is to read the same way forward and backwards. The center word is the reverse of the prior sentences.

For some reason or another, I decided to try different poetry styles as a challenge even though I’ve only been writing poetry for a year. Anyways, here goes my blog poem.

Skipping
Stone Memories,
triggered song, restless thoughts,
or moment that appears familiar,
from times adored,
some truly abhorred,
but beauty
such ponderings
lives within
-us-
within lives
ponderings such
beauty but
abhorred truly some,
adored times from
familiar appears that moment or,
thoughts restless, song triggered,
Memories Stone,
Skipping

My other challenge is finding a picture for my Skipping Stones Poem. I’d like to even use it as a background on my blog, but I haven’t found a picture. If you have a picture you’d like to share of skipping stones that isn't copyrighted, I’d appreciate you letting me know. In the meantime, I’ll keep up the search.

Have a Great Weekend!

It's My Story!

“Ouch! Don’t do that. Every time you erase something it hurts.”

“Is she doing that again?”

“Yes, along with various painful and embarrassing things. What happened to her growing up?” I roll my eyes without being told.

“I like what I do.”

“Yeah, if I got to be a Rock Star I’d like it too, but your personality is all wrong for it.”

“You think?”

I sigh without direction and sarcastically say, “Yes, I think. Asking that question is proof enough that you can’t handle the fame. You’re too nice. I don’t know why she gave you the job, and made you the Protagonist. The main character is supposed to be flawed. You… you’re booming with happiness and a clean cut life.”

“Maybe she’s tired of her characters being flawed and wants to have someone with an easy life.”

“And maybe you should shut up! I don’t know why I even bother talking to you, you’re annoyingly perfect.”

“What’s wrong with being perfect and nice? I bet she feels the same way that’s why I’m the main character.”

“You’re a character all right. SHE made you the main character because her life is all messed up. I mean just look at her.”

We both look up at you at the same time without a prompt.

“She looks fine to me. I can see the crinkles between her eyebrows. It looks like she’s concentrating hard.”

“That’s what I’m talking about. There shouldn’t be any concentration. She should put pen to paper and follow along with the story.”

“Why have writers if the story writes itself?”

“Because someone needs to write what WE tell them to you idiot!”

“Then I wouldn’t be a Rock Star. You’d beat me up, take my fame and I’d be homeless.”

“Now that’s a story!”

“But it’s not how the story should be told.”

“Really? Who says that’s not how it should be told?”

“She did.” He points up to me.

“You mean OUR writer?”

“Yes. Our writer. She seems to have everything under control. I’m going to be performing in Times Square… OW! What are you doing?”

I start punching the Rock Star with all my might. He runs away, but I chase after him and catch up. My fists sink into his softness.

“Stop it! You’re hurting me.”

“That’s the point dummy.”

With increased speed, my fists connect with his face, one after the other stopping Mr. Rock Star from getting up. In an instant, I feel a sharp pain in my back as I stumble away. I feel wet warmth, so I touch my back and my hand is covered in blood.

He looks up at me. “You bitch! I’m the one who--- ”

He falls with his eyes still open but motionless.

Rock Star looks at him then me then back to him. He gets up, throws the knife in the dumpster and brushes the dirt from his clothes. Other than a bleeding lip he’s fine.

Again, he looks up, winks and smiles. “Thanks for your help. I was beginning to think you changed your mind and wanted him as the Protagonist.”

It's Sunday!

"It’s Sunday,” I said to my guest,

"Such a beautiful day, I feel blessed."

He looked outside, saw the rain fall

couldn’t understand why so in awe.

I sat next to him on the couch

gave him coffee to cure the grouch.

He smiled, I touched his cheek to say,

“You are my love, it’s a beautiful day.”