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Monday, March 26, 2018
Sunday, March 25, 2018
Emma Gonzalez and the generation that will change the world
The tools of the trade must be made much less accessible - begin by enacting laws to make it harder to be able to purchase a gun. Enact laws to put on trial the sellers of these gun which lead to murders. Ask the questions - did you follow the protocol while selling the gun or did you just check the boxes to make the sale? Put into place laws that will make it difficult for anyone to purchase a gun. Should someone sell guns illegally sentence them to a harsh jail sentence. Should someone die or be injured by this gun - they should be held as an accomplice.
They stood up. The adults told them to sit down and be quiet. They stood up and gathered around the world and had their voices heard. They chanted and they sang; they held up signs and they spoke. “Never again.” “I could be next.” “No more guns.” I admire this generation even if it has been forced upon them by the failings of their elders. Yes, we are all to blame for this. We elected or we didn't vote, we ignored or we spoke too soft, we cried but we did not wail, we watched on TV but did not raise our voices. The children have risen up because which adult dares to speak? Or to quote the future of America, Ms. Emma Gonzales "Fight for your lives before it's someone else's job.” Which leader has taken on that jon? Which leader dares to counter attack the evil in our midst. The tools of the trade must be made much less accessible - begin by enacting laws to make it harder to be able to purchase a gun. Enact laws to put on trial the sellers of these gun which lead to murders. Ask the questions - did you follow the protocol while selling the gun or did you just check the boxes to make the sale? Put into place laws that will make it difficult for anyone to purchase a gun. Should someone sell guns illegally sentence them to a harsh jail sentence. Should someone die or be injured by this gun - they should be held as an accomplice. Guns are never going away and other weapons can be easily produced. But we need to begin somewhere and as a nation we must send the message to the ones who peddle weapons illegally or even legally - restrictions and consequences will follow. Stand up adults. Stand up and fight against gun violence. Stand up and say “Never again.” Look at your children standing up and begging to live in a safer world and be inspired instead of trying to cut them down by using rationalizations and numbers showing other causes of killing. Start somewhere…”fight for your children’s lives - it should not be their job.” #emmagonzalez #neveragain #fightforourchildrenInstagram
Friday, March 23, 2018
Caravan of Jokers
There's a crossroad on the highway, chain gangs moaning in tunes I now know and I hum along. I kick away the pebbles which try and obstruct the path towards a destination that seemed so close but remains elusive. The pebbles have graduated into stones, then rocks and now boulders which obstruct my passage.
Lady in a white dress walks towards me, she is smiling, extends her hand to me and lifts me up with a slight pull. All it takes sometimes is a smile and a nudge in the right direction. “Where were you all this time?” “Been chasing you for some time - didn’t you hear me?” Sitting on this chair overlooking the river that was once whispering words I could not understand. I am able to hear them now, I am able to understand. The voices and the whispers we sometimes hear are the messages being sent to us from another time and place...listen closely...It's music only you can comprehend. www.freddyzalta.com #poemoftheday #instagood #photooftheday #wordpornInstagram
Monday, March 19, 2018
Friday, March 16, 2018
Still I Think of You
So, there is this small cafe - just beyond that winding road which connects Morrison Street with New Amsterdam. I’ll be sitting there, in the corner, taking deep breaths and sips of my cup of cappuccino. Perhaps I will also have a jelly roll in front of me just for the contrast in colors.
There is a small cafe, towards the old school on Morrison Street. I’ll be there tonight, if you’d like to stop on by. I like to get there by 630, at around that time the bakery across the way begins to bake it's stuff for the weekend. The aroma is spectacular and creates an insatiable lust for anything - once in a while I’ll order a jelly roll. I usually sit outdoors, weather permitting and the weather looks lovely today. I’ll be there with my knitted derby, dark sunglasses and doing a crossword puzzle. Cappuccino in front of me and a view of the winding road as it winds down and around. I like to come here on Thursdays, the mood is usually a bit jollier than other days. There is also a band that plays acoustically across the road, I sometimes join in with my harmonica; once or twice I played some guitar, but not tonight. When you said goodbye I didn’t know how I would react, internally, to your leaving. But it haunted me for some time - especially when I saw you dancing with that clueless kid with the Armani tuxedo, your arms encircled around his waist. I had to turn away, I had to leave, I should have left but instead I stayed and absorbed the hits. Only when I was bruised enough inside did I decide I had enough, limping away for good measure. The years have been good to me - although it was kind of a rough go for some time - life was still filled with beauty and wonder. I loved and love more than I could ever have imagined - in a world filled with impossible expense and debt - it's funny how the best things in life, the ones that you will remember, the stuff that time is filled with - they don’t cost a dime. Still I think about you. So, there is this small cafe - just beyond that winding road which connects Morrison Street with New Amsterdam. I’ll be sitting there, in the corner, taking deep breaths and sips of my cup of cappuccino. Perhaps I will also have a jelly roll in front of me just for the contrast in colors. More at www.freddyzalta.com #poetry #love #myart #tgif #smallcafeInstagram
Thursday, March 15, 2018
Wednesday, March 14, 2018
Tuesday, March 13, 2018
Snow falling, I can hear the ball hitting the bat echoing, kids shouting and the voice of mother's calling them on home. The branches are beginning to bloom, birds are beginning to sing a spring tune. But.. The snow is falling. Clouded skies blasting forebodingly, ominously blocking the sun and whispering it's only for a while. Somewhere a young boy is tossing a baseball up in the air as he lives out his winter dreams of spring, of summer. He looks out the window and the snow is still falling, but not for long. Ball drops, he picks it up and it rises up again, as the sun rises, it sets, only to rise and fall again, on and on. Those winter dreams whispering softly to us... Infusing a little sunshine and hope. #snowday #tuesdaythoughts #winterdreams #loveInstagram
Saturday, March 10, 2018
I see her – from across the floor which is littered with pretenders, dancers and pollution caused by the sounds of false laughter and false bravado. There is recorded music playing, catapulting partners switching clothing and shoes, social butterflies fluttering around the room – so transparently. The singer is a Sinatra impersonator, who dresses and looks the part all too well – causing one to wonder if he even remembers his own name? I see her – through the stained glass air which separates us and she is smiling…images etched onto the air in colors blue, red and green, I see her still and I can sense her desire… Not quite Sinatra is singing about a “Summer Wind” on this cold March evening as the wannabe dancers sip another cheap glass of champagne declaring a toast to what might have been. I find my way across the room towards the glow of her smile, the warmth of her embrace and the invigorating feeling I get by just standing beside her. She is naturally and truly beautiful – I am lost as I memorize her and I do my own etching of her image upon my heart, my soul. The world is filled with so much artificial plastic, fakery, fictional stories disguised as truth and nothing but the truth. Does anyone hold truth sacred anymore? I can get lost in my failures and the failures of the ones I once followed – but once I see her smile, I feel her touch, I sense her love…I am set apart from this trashcan existence and I am thrust upwards towards the warmth of the sun, the reality of the sky and the truth of her love. #poem #poetryInstagram
Friday, March 09, 2018
Poem for You
I see her - from across the floor which is littered with pretenders, dancers and pollution caused by the sounds of false laughter and false bravado.
From an upcoming short story. The temperature was in the 30’s but the wind made it seem as if there was ice flying at her with each gust. She held the hands of her daughters as they stood beside her on the Kings highway train platform. She was in a daze and barely spoke a word. If you watched her as she stood there she seemed to be recounting every moment of her life as if she had put herself on trial. She would bite her top lip, exhale, bow her head and silently mouth out a thought or two. #daniella #shortstory #nyc #11230 #ftrain #freddyzalta.comInstagram
Thursday, March 08, 2018
Tuesday, March 06, 2018
Where do I Go from here?
Black clouds hover, pellets of rain slamming down. When will this be over, when will I wear my crown?
Sunday, March 04, 2018
Saturday, March 03, 2018
Thursday, March 01, 2018
Infidels
Marie was a gypsy eyed, dark skinned woman with a cropped black hair style and lips filled with her venom. She had that way of looking at me which made me feel exposed and revealed. No one had ever put that spell over me as she did.
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