Someone else (a short story or a poem)

Pieces of leaves 

that were dried and broken

long ago 

crunched under his feet

as he entered

the abandoned house

that was home

to many people before him

Now the time had come

for him to take care of it

and let it take care of him.

Until one day

he would leave

and let the house

be home

to someone else.

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Domestic abuse

A domestic survivor is finally taking her abuser to court. This poor woman had a cigarette put out on her face, a finger cut off, slaps and punches were part of her normal day, the man defecated in her bed while his friends laughed. There are audio and pictures to back all of this up. There were doctors that witnessed some of the abuse. The man put makeup on to imitate bruises for pictures and court appearances, but the next day there were no bruises to be seen. The man tried so so so hard to ruin this woman’s life. The media didn’t even ask her side. They blamed her drinking as the problem (she had been sober for YEARS but the violent relationship had led her back to her addiction, her only escape) the man leaked a picture of her asleep with ice cream melted on her to prove how “out of control” she was. To shame her even more. All of her past partners have stepped up to support her, all saying she was nothing but kind and loving. How can we treat domestic abuse survivors this way?? 

This woman isn’t a woman, she’s Johnny Depp, and the man is Amber Heard. For some reason his abuse wasn’t taken serious, it was mocked. If he were a woman would it have been so openly mocked? Abuse is Abuse. We need to protect victims regardless of gender. 

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A friend of mine shared this post on her Facebook page and gave me permission to use it. To raise awareness for men who are victims of domestic abuse. Yes, often it's women who are the victims and it is said men are hardly ever the victim. But the sad fact is that we simply don't know.

A *ahem* friend of mine wanted to file a complaint against his then girlfriend and stood at the window of the local police station, telling his story and showing his bruises. The police officer laughed, got his colleagues to laugh at me...sorry, my friend...too and send him on his way with: 'If you ever file a false claim again, you will get fined. A woman would never hit her partner but thanks for the laugh.'

So, we simply don't know how many men are victims of domestic abuse. Most of them are too ashamed to tell anyone and if they do muster the nerve to go to the police, they get laughed at. So no graphs exist on the number of men getting beaten up (or otherwise abused) by their partner.

So, if you have a male friend or colleague who explains his bruises with 'I fell from the stairs' or even 'I got into a bar fight' and/or seems more quiet than usual and lingers in the bar or at the office, not really wanting to go home, try to talk to him to find out what's going on. You might actually save a life that would otherwise be ended or ruined beyond repair. Thanks.

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A Gift (a poem)

Without a map you're lost.

Staring won't help,

nor will a friendly face

that gives you answers

to questions

unanswered before

You can eat all you want

unless you forget

to pay for what's needed

and cross the threshold

into a dream

where you will find

a gift

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Want to read (more of) my short stories? My author page: Terrence Weijnschenk at Amazon

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On the breaking of bread

Traditions like Iftar and Lent are a reminder to us that some have less then we do and it's good to think about those people. If only for a few days a year. It humbles us and reminds us that most of our problems fail in comparison to those of people who are really having a bad time. It doesn't hurt to share some of our riches.

Besides, food is always a great peacemaker. From ancient times 'the breaking of bread' together has been used as a way to get fighting parties together. As soon as people start to know eachother, they stop being afraid of the other one and because it's not polite to speak with your mouthful you have no choice but to listen. I just made that last one up but guessing you're getting my point. 

Want to read (more of) my short stories? My author page: Terrence Weijnschenk at Amazon

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His mind (a poem)

There was only one place

where he was in control.

It wasn't just any place

but a place he created

himself.

It was a place where he felt

at ease.

Because it was the only place

where he wasn't

in control.

His mind.

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Want to read (more of) my short stories? My author page: Terrence Weijnschenk at Amazon

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If you boycot a racist, will he or she stop being a racist?

'I won't listen to her music anymore because I found out she's a racist! And I won't buy stuff from that company anymore because they support Black Lives Matter!'

What do consumers think their boycot will do? 'Oh, no! Mister Brown won't click on my songs anymore on Spotify! I'd better stop being a racist.' 'Oh, golly, we'd better stop supporting BLM because stupid white supremacists will otherwise only buy our shoes to set them on fire (click) while wearing them.'

The story of a man who actually set his shoes on fire while wearing them was later debunked. But still funny. So it was good satire, produced by the comedian who posted the picture of burning shoed feet.

Did you stop listening to Elvis songs when you found out he was a heavy drug user? So did you suddenly stop liking his music? 

Interesting fact: in 2027 Elvis' autopsy records will be released and we will finally know the real reason (click) of his untimely death.

If you love someone but found out he or she voted for 'the other guy', would that make you love him or her less? Than it probably wasn't love in the first place.

I still enjoy the music of Van Morison and Eric Clapton even though they are well known racists and Trump supporters (by the way: do you know of a Trump supporter who is nót racist? Or simply plain dumb?) and I still enjoy watching Andromeda or Xena, although they feature the dumb Trump supporter Kevin Sorbo (click).

Would you like it if people stopped inviting you to parties if they found out you do drugs (some one in five US adults has smoked weed at least once) or because a friend of yours was called out as a mysoginist?  

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Number one (a poem or short story)

Because it was stuck

He was stuck

No matter how hard he tried

He just couldn't write

Until she came along

And made things right

With three knives

And a determined grin

Soon she had won the fight

And happily pressed

The number one

Want to read (more of) my short stories? My author page: Terrence Weijnschenk at Amazon

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Are you proud of your heritage? Why?

'I'm proud to be Irish!' 'Where in Ireland were you born?' 'Well, I wasn't but my grandfather was.'

How can people be proud of 

A) something they are not

B) Something they did nothing for to accomplish?

Perhaps it's because Americans (with the exception of native Americans) don't really have a history of their own that they take pride in their European, Asian or African heritage but your grandpa being Irish doesn't make you Irish, just like your grandfather having been a slave, doesn't make you one.

Interesting fact: 'The Irish' were once considered a race in America. And often discriminated against because of it. That must have been hundreds of years ago, right? Nope. Not until late in the seventies the idea of Irish people being a race was abandoned. Making an end to seeing this kind of signs at doors and in newspapers:

'Yes, it happened. But those signs are rare', a professor stated. 'The Irish made it up in order to gain sympathy'. 'No, they weren't', a 14 years old (...) historian proved him wrong (click).

Arnold Schwarzeneggers father was an actual nazi, fighting for Hitler to rid Europe of Jews, homosexuals, gyspies, freemasons and other people from the invented category of 'Untermensch'. Does that make the former Governor of California a nazi? Of course not. Just listen to this powerful speech of his:

Do you really want to honour your heritage? Please stop boasting you are part Irish/Jew/Italian/Kenyan/slave/slave owner and do something with your knowledge: get to know the Irish culture, go to Ireland. Or teach children about the Holocaust, look up your great aunt in Italy. Do your enslaved ancestor proud by helping to make sure current day slaves get liberated.

In other words: take pride in your deeds and accomplishments, not in what happened to somebody else decades ago.

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Want to read (more of) my short stories? My author page: Terrence Weijnschenk at Amazon

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Art Deco (a poem)

Your voice in my ear,

opening a door in my heart.

Your smell in my nose,

the morning after

and your kiss on my cheek,

when you leave,

while I still sleep,

dreaming of the day

you walked into

a sense of beloning,

elegant and sophisticated,

befitting the style

in which the bar we met was build:

art deco

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Want to read (more of) my short stories? My author page: Terrence Weijnschenk at Amazon

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