Tyler Clementi

Tomorrow I'm driving to Westfield to cover an apple festival during the afternoon, then I will drive to Summit to cover The American Red Cross Oktoberfest fundraising event.

Sounds nice...

I have not one ounce of doubt I will breath in the smell of baked apples and cinnamon, and later sneak a sip of beer at a festival I am covering for a nice news story.

Everything in me says tomorrow will be a good day. I have no reason not to be thankful that I will get paid to live it.

Now look at how the blood red the apples hang from the tree. Look at how blood red the sick air swirls in this Autumn storm. All the leaves turning one shade of blood to the next. Then falling like a person off a bridge.

But the leaf is already dead when it falls. The leaf is not conscious in flight, in flash-backs, and madness, and nightmares, racing to peace...

So you want to make a video of my roommate?

Fucking fag...the world's gonna see this one...it's gonna be awesome...

He'll probably cry to the Dean for a new roommate...baby.

He was a musician. He was another gay musician. Another gay artist. Can art be gay?

I don't really hate the students that filmed Tyler Clementi...they're just assholes seething in homophobia...in all reality they may not be seething in anything...It's acceptable everywhere to pick on gay people...Actually it's funny...some gay jokes are better than black jokes...

Whose death you want to joke about now? The Jews are too easy to pick on, but fuck it, let's tell a Jew joke too...I'm sure it worth the penny my breath will spend to tell it...

Sex is my favorite part of being alive sometimes...all energy converging to love in a climax of...aaahhhhhhhhh!

Sex between two men is disgusting...if you do it go jump off a bridge!

Why did he jump? Couldn't he just get over it? I guess if he couldn't live with who he really was then jumping was for the best. I wonder if his mother heard the smack of his body hit the water in her dream?

These words today fall like apples from trees, fall like sad flower petals, fall like leaves, and roll like dead rats to the sewer...These words well up like a sad flood...this fall season deserves no beauty...I hope this storm just knocks the rest of these leaves to the fucking ground...

If you ever told a gay joke raise your hand...

If you ever laughed out loud because someone told a gay joke raise your hand...

I just raised two...

What I write today repairs nothing...my words do not silence the smack of a body...as no words of a hyped up media coverage silenced a pistol whipping against a wooden fence years ago...a lot has changed, and some things didn't...

I will enjoy my day tomorrow, trust me...but someone won't...

I offer a poem below as my silence....





 For The Living

Mental states are wrong.

Philosophies are wrong.

Mid-day rain falls.

There is no need for ears.

There is need to walk near rusty gutters.

There is need to look in deli windows and cry.

I do not fet wheelchairs and crutches.

I remove furniture from my room,

and sit onel dark today.

I am sick in the ankles from bereavement.

Today I pick cherry-blossoms

throw them in sewers.

I scream a the floor.

I do not have the energy for this.

Tonight I will not cry for autumn.

I will not drink the wine of sad grapes.

I am sick of night.

I am deluged with sorrow.

I weave teardrop necklaces.

I will not talk to night tonight.