Poetry...

The young man fancied himself an artist.

He did not have the artist’s soul.

A child stares through incest’s eyes:

Terrored.

Angered.

Helpless.

Cold.

She cries upon the night.

I cannot hear her scream.

The other children hear the scream

Yet ignore it.

The adults hear the scream

But choose to dismiss it.

The local constable heard the scream and chose

To act upon it.

A hero now, soon to fade away.

The villain has faded from the flesh

But always remains close to the heart and mind.

As the school bus draws near

She is aware of the talk.

The villain has faded from the flesh

But always remains close to the heart and mind.

NO RED HERRING

Boom box

Reeboks

Little kids with chicken pox

Mainland

Gangland

Another in the promised land

Street-smart pool shark

Just another fucking narc

B.K.’s

D.K.’s

Killed for choosing these today

Drive-by homicide

How many more are sure to die?

Retaliation for the group

Annihilation absolute

Suicide for you today

The only choice for some, they say

Needles buried in their veins

Forever rid of all life’s pains

Diseases here both old and new

Condoms still not being used

Babies born of white and black

Begin their lives addicted to crack

Fighting wars to preserve the peace

Will the gunfire ever cease?

We hear more talk of taxes, inflation

And this is our kinder, gentler nation?

SONG FROM THE STREET

I write the songs of men gone mad

Of beggars, hoboes and the such

Of homeless women slovenly clad

Their counterparts with just as much

I see their children on the streets

I feel their pain within my gut

Return do they when parents holler

Return do they to urban squalor

Out on the streets

Or in the sewers

In cardboard boxes

Alleyways

In makeshift shanties

Hoovervilles

Anyplace will their heads lay

Our eyes are blind

Our ears are deaf

Their voices now cannot be heard

We walk right by with minds so closed

It’s not our problem

We mutter no words

But come Thanksgiving, Christmas Day

All our prejudices seem to give way

To open hands and outstretched arms

We love to help

Or so we say

But then, day after holidays

It’s back to work and back to play

It’s back to life as was before

It’s not our problem

Or so we say

CHICKEN FEET

Simply sitting as the chicken feet go by

The black in the coffee making stagnant noises for you and I

Go away, leave me be

But you don’t because I can’t see

And the chicken feet silently creep by

My pen now crying out for me

No one hears it, only me

I finally take it to my hand

Only to find it has been banned

And the chicken feet walk on by

In every tongue, for every nation

I send this dire proclamation

But that gull of madness, that speckled loon

Sends his goosey squad of goons

And the chicken feet trod on by

Not every nation, but the world

His loony wings, he hoped, unfurled

The time has come for his superior race

To put us asunder and take their place

And the chicken feet proudly march by

They come by land, they come by sea

This giant, iron war machine

With razor claws to seize their prey

And live to fight another day

And the chicken feet mightily stomp by

Bear and Eagle join the fight

To bring an end to this worldly plight

“We concede!” Their leaders yell

But not before ten million fell

Now the chicken feet wearily stammer by

But more, yes, more was even lost

In this time of holocaust

We never forget, we do rebuild

And set monuments for loved ones killed

When the chicken feet dared pass by

PERSONALLY, BY ME…

Darkness falls and night time cries

Sleep calls to mine weary eyes

I look about at things seen before

A curtain shade, an olde oak door

So shall I see them ever more.

I rise at night when sun goes down

At night do I embrace this town

I look about at things seen before

And the gothic dreams I do implore

So shall I see them even more.

In busied parks and alleyways

I seek the actors of this play

I look about at things seen before

The ebbing life of one no more

So shall I see it ever more.

On darkened streets I seek my prey

Those who lay for monies paid

I look about at things seen before

With awesome might I embrace this whore

So shall I see her nevermore.

Sunrise calls but still night cries

Sleep calls to mine weary eyes

I look about at things seen before

A curtail shade, an olde oak door

So shall I see them ever more.

THE UNSILENT MAJORITY

Johnny’s dead

Yes, he is

Johnny’s died

Who gives a fuck?

He died without a cause

When he was sent to Viet Nam

Now look at the fucking place

Yellow people all over the place

Not an American in sight

He died for nothing

The Communists still have their plight

Public Speaking Persuasive Speech (6 minutes)

Persuasive Speech

TOPIC:

Abortion Should Not Be an Alternate Solution worth Consideration

GENERAL PURPOSE:

To persuade those who are not like-minded that abortion robs us of the happiness that a child brings into our lives

SPECIFIC PURPOSE:

It is my hope that by the time I have concluded my speech, others will place the same value on human life that I hold.

CENTRAL IDEA:

Through the use of statistics, images, and personal anecdotes I hope to persuade skeptics and/or complete nonbelievers from their notion that abortion is solely a mother’s right; the unborn child has a say in this as well.

INTRODUCTION:

(I sit in a chair in front of my audience) I want to ask a favor from each of you: I would like for you to close your eyes. I promise this will not take long; I would just like for you to indulge me this one small request as I attempt to help you visualize something from my past. Are everyone’s eyes closed? Good. I want to take you on a journey twenty-three years into the past, when I was but twenty-three years old. It was Thanksgiving Day, and after much food, drink, and revelry with my girlfriend’s family, she and I returned to my apartment, and as we lay together on the sofa, just holding each other and enjoying one another’s company, she told me she was pregnant. She was happy, excited…a whole range of emotions showed on her face as she told me it was all she could do to wait until later in the evening when we were alone to tell me. The first words out of my mouth, I am sorry to say, were, “I want you to get an abortion.” I want you to visualize her beautiful, almost angelic face as it melted from purest joy to a thing most unrecognizable. If at all possible, I want you to visualize what was going through the mind of the prospective father, I, who had had so many plans for the future and saw each and every one of them slamming into a brick wall called “responsibility.” (Wait 3 seconds) You may open your eyes now and thank you once again. (I stand to deliver the remainder of my speech) Good evening. My name is Duncan Jackson, and I will be speaking this evening on why abortion should not be an alternative worth consideration. I find it necessary to state that during this presentation I will be employing the use of some very graphic illustrations, but hopefully not to the point of detracting from my speech.

BODY: (Begin first power point)

I.                   “A thing of beauty is a joy forever.” This quote, from John Keats’ epic poem Endymion (1818), spoke of the beauty of our relationships with gods and goddesses just as it spoke of the beauty of humans in communion with nature; and what is more natural between man and woman than to procreate, to bring new life into this world? When I told my girlfriend that I wanted her to get an abortion I knew even as I was saying those words that I did not mean them, and I was quick to let her know that. I had lived my life to that point with the belief that abortion was murder, and I knew I was no murderer; more importantly, how could I take life from someone who was not yet able to defend him-or herself? I often think about that moment, though. It seems that one moment has remained engraved in my memories above all others. Even as I think of it now I ask myself, “What if…?” What if I had gone through with that decision? What if it were she who pushed for the abortion? I think of every little thing—good and bad—that would have been lost to me, such as my daughter’s first words, which were “Da-da,” or her first steps, the hours spent on potty training, the boo-boos, the honor roll, achieving first chair in band, her getting married and giving birth to my first grand-child…If either my girlfriend or I really pushed for that abortion, these particular things would have been lost to me.

II.                Before I begin this next segment of slides I would like to address a few issues that are sure to come up in any discussion where abortion is the topic. While it is important to keep in mind that opinions differ greatly, I have already stated that I am a firm believer that no one person or persons should have the right to decide the fate of a human life in matters of abortion. People tend to be careless. I can freely admit that I was careless by not practicing safe sex, but just as millions of people had done before me and since, I recognized the responsibility I had to this life I had helped create. Some may ask, “What if it is a single woman who decides the man with whom she had sex is a bum? What if the mother’s life is at stake? What if the impregnation of the woman came about as a result of rape or incest?” I know this is where I will more than likely lose some of you, but in every one of these cases I stand firm in my convictions: No one has the right to decide the life or death of an unborn child. I want to tell you about a woman I have been most honored and privileged to meet. For the sake of this speech, I shall call her Rebecca. I met Rebecca at Wild Adventures some years ago; her children and mine knew one another from school. They tried to play matchmaker, and I eventually asked Rebecca out. After having dated for a few months, Rebecca confided in me that her twin girls were the product of a rape she had endured from when she was stationed in North Carolina—she is still in the Air Force, by the way. She told me that her first inclination was to get an abortion because—as she put it—“Just knowing that son-of-a-bitch’s children were swimming around inside of me made me feel dirty to no end.” But something changed inside of Rebecca. As she spoke with doctors, nurses, crisis centers, support groups, her parents, her priest, and her god, she came to realize that the children were not at fault for what the rapist had done to her, and decided she would carry the children to term. Her philosophy became, “Something this beautiful came from something that evil.” You may find Rebecca’s story to be a one-in-a-million example, but the fact is that many women who have been raped have decided to keep their children for exactly this same reason. These are the heroes, and equally heroic are the persons who meet these women pre-or post-delivery, accept the situation for what it is, and go on to share loving relationships with them.

III.             (Begin Series II slides) These images may be difficult to sit through, but I want each and every one of you to understand exactly what abortion means, and exactly what it does. What you are looking at are images of aborted children from as early as five weeks after conception. Do you see the tiny arms and hands and fingers? Can you detect the legs, feet, and toes? There is a head and torso, complete with a brain and beating heart that—No, no. That is not correct at all. The heart of this poor child stopped beating the moment he or she was ripped from his or her mother’s womb. These are the children and grandchildren, brothers and sisters, cousins, nieces, nephews, and friends we will never know because someone placed absolutely no value on their lives. According to the Guttenmacher Institute (2011) 1 in 3 women will have an abortion by the age of forty-five. Furthermore, approximately 1.25 million women per year have abortions in the United States alone. This figure does not reflect the number of unreported abortions—those performed in secrecy by the mother herself or an unqualified technician due to shame or regret—that can account for another 50,000 per annum added to this already outrageously high number. If a child is not wanted, why should abortion be the answer? There are other solutions, such as having family members or friends take the child in, outright adoption or for those whose motives are completely self-serving, there are the black-market adoption services that will gladly pay upwards of $10,000 for a newborn baby. Anything is better than…this (point to screen, end slideshow).”

CONCLUSION:

Most people who embrace the notion of pro-choice are liberals or socialists; it is these same people who believe they have every right to kill a defenseless child while speaking out against the death penalty imposed upon someone who has raped and murdered children. It is these same people who will advocate animal rights while taking away the rights of the unborn child.  When I told my girlfriend to get an abortion, I did so because I was scared; I did so because of the uncertain future that fatherhood promised. Even so, deep in my heart I knew I was wrong for even suggesting such a thing. My beliefs are not theological, nor are they political; how I choose to categorize them is “ethical,” and while I know that how I choose to define ethics may vary from you or you or even you (acknowledge with incline of head), I also know that we share more ethics and morals than any of us may even know. As I bring this speech to a close I would like to ask just one more favor of you. I would like to ask that you embark on another journey with me. No, you do not need to close your eyes for this, and no, you do not need to share my radical views. All I ask is that each and every one of you gives your children the same opportunity your parents afforded you; give them the gift of life. Won’t you join me? Thank you.

SOURCES:

Guttenmacher Institute. Characteristics of U. S. Abortion Patients. Pg. 3, May, 2010. Rachel K.

Jones, Lawrence B. Finer, Susheela Singh. http://www.guttmacher.org/pubs/US-

Abortion-Patients.pdf

Guttenmacher Institute. Facts on Induced Abortion in the United States. August, 2011

http://www.guttmacher.org/pubs/fb_induced_abortion.pdf

Keats, John. Endymion. Poems. Taylor and Hessey. London, 1818.