This is the first in an upcoming series of instructional videos for writing composition. This brief video presentation shows you the basic elements of an academic essay structure, including the introduction, body paragraphs and the conclusion. This instructional video was created for an English Composition course at Full Sail University. If you’re a new student entering any college or university for the first time, or returning to school after a long absence, this video should help you adopt a proper organizational essay structure.
Around midnight on Election night, I was starting to feel bad for not voting. As I saw the direction the count was going in and Florida turning red, I felt a sense of unease that maybe I should’ve done my part. By 1am, the writing was on the map, and it was clear that Trump was going to win. I almost vomited. Then I reflected on the reason I didn’t vote in the first place, looked closely at the two choices forced on us, and quickly went to bed. By the time I got up in the morning, those feelings had washed off because I knew I was not the cause of her defeat. That morning on social media, many angry and bitter Clinton supporters were hurling insults at people like me for not voting, telling us it was our fault and we can’t say shit and can’t complain about Trump cause we let him win and we need to “STFU” and don’t say a fucking word about it. Like, really mad. Like, “I’ll punch you in the face” mad, as if people like me are ignorant and don’t know a damn thing about politics and only complain when shit goes wrong. But the issue is much bigger than my vote, or any third party voters. To understand why I stood home on election night, along with millions of other Americans, we need to address the root of our disenfranchisement, and listen, because we won’t shut the fuck up. Read the rest of this entry
and rotting quickly,
each wrinkle on
her silvery black face
tells tales of years
stacked upon years,
tears piled on tears
joy and pain
toil and bitter rain Read the rest of this entry
This is for the feelers
The drug dealers
The muthafuckin dope feigners
Runnin round naked like a streaker Read the rest of this entry
Love is not a war film
like Apocalypse Now where the hero
goes through the depths of hell and
returns drenched in blood from murder;
he’s psychologically ruined. Read the rest of this entry
*Originally written on a Hyatt Regency letterhead, this poem was turned into a spoken word house music track and released on Fluential Records (UK) in 2002, with music produced by Wilson and Steven Mestre.
It was about 6:15 in the morning I’m drunk and I’m high and I’m in Chicago now, I had just stumbled out of some club, somewhere I can’t even remember, and um I walked to the corner to hail a cab and after five empty cabs just passed me by one finally stopped Read the rest of this entry
It is me, my son, and you who’s inspired great change Before you, I was wandering deserted plains. It is you, who stopped the winds from blowing With no sail to go, I started quickly rowing. It is us, together hand in hand walking tall, we travel barren lands. Read the rest of this entry
You shouldn’t smoke this other blunt, and you know it too. But your drunken ass just can’t say no to Sonia, licking the Dutchie with her raspberry mouth, because you don’t see a blunt at all, but imagine something else between her lips, and instead of saying no, you hand her a lighter.
Sonia is a professional at rolling pencil-straight blunts. You imaging she must be professional at other things too, because that’s how your perverse mind thinks. It doesn’t matter that she can’t cook rice and beans like Abuelita does, or that she leaves dirty panties in the tub, or thinks Uruguay is an exotic Malaysian dish. Read the rest of this entry