Letter to the Queen Bees of the World

Letter to the Queen Bees of the World


To the Queen Bees of the world:
I loathe you.
You embody all that’s wrong in women,
Wrapped in pretty paper.

To the Queen Bees of the world:
I hate how you flip your glossy hair,
While you ridicule the poor girl.
I hate how you flash your even white teeth to the world,
While whispering about how fat your friend has become.

You may be on top of the world today,
But when your daddy’s card maxes out
And when your plastic looks fade,
I’ll be on top of the corporate ladder
And you’ll just be a trophy wife.

XOXO
Ella Kay

Lady who has no logic.

So this story took place in early January. In case you don’t remember, Hamas and the Israeli government where having a slight tiff, and of course when these two have an argument usually hundreds of innocent civilians die in the process. The M.S.A at my college was quite concerned over the death toll so they had an interesting idea on how to raise awareness to the Palestinian’s plight. They basically had a table laden with all sorts of cakes and brownies, and people could help themselves to anything as long as they asked a question pertaining to the situation back in the mid-east. ANYWAYS, I was sitting at the table with the rest of the M.S.A members when this middle aged woman with a cane cam limping to us.

This lady kept on going on and on about Hamas this and Hamas that and Israel is a humane country blah blah blah. We listened to the lady and told her that the politics of the situation didn’t interest us, but rather the deplorable state of the Palestinian civilians is what’s raising our concern. Get this; the lady actually said “Well Israel is being very nice to the Palestinians. They leave voicemail messages to the Palestinians anytime they’re about to start an air raid.” I believe that at that moment I looked like a fish that has just been thrown out of the sea. I was so flabbergasted that my mouth was wide open and I kept on making noises like “ungh, unga, mmmm”. I had no idea how to answer back to this dim-witted woman. Luckily, my friend Hadia answered back “ Ma’am, You’re talking about a country that currently doesn’t have electricity, they’re sewage system is busted. I have a slight hunch that the Palestinians DON’T get voicemail messages.”

To this day, Hadia and I, make references to this crazy lady. Our favorite one is yelling to each other as we’re leaving a room “Now don’t leave me any voicemail messages!” Voicemail messages. Voicemail. I’m still laughing hysterically to myself.

Second poem.

Now, I wrote this poem a year ago so excuse its roughness.

A woman’s chin trembling,

Her face etched with fear.

Her voice calls out, cracking:

“Where’s my husband? I wish he were near.”

A girl calls out in anger:

“My brother died of kidney failure;

there was no electricity for his gear.

No one will help me, of that I am sure.”

Long has this land suffered.

It’s furrowed over with strife.

A land left unbuffered,

It’s people forced into a hidden life.

This land reeks of injustice,

Permeating its deadly fumes.

But we continue to live in bliss;

Locked in a political tomb.

They cry out desperately.

But to no avail,

We answer to their oppressors.

Let's see if anyone can figure out what this poem's talking about.lol.

My first posted poem!

This is a poem that I wrote MONTHS ago about the tragic death of a family friend that affected me more than I ever expected.

Mostapha

I wake up,

late at night.

Salty tears running down

my sweat drenched face.



We were never friends

nor confidants.

Yet I still remember

your strong arms

lifting your beaming sister

into the air.



And all I can

see is:

twisted steaming metal,

your sobbing mother,

and my trembling hands.

Guilty about MJay?

Okay, so I'd like to welcome everybody to my blog: Kay is the Word. I hope that people will find this website to be insightful, useful, and entertaining. I have chosen my first topic to be about the recent uproar that has swept the entire world and blown up the world wide web. I,of course, am talking about the death of the King of Pop, Michael Jackson(Or as I shall call him, M Jay).
We've seen footage after footage of M Jay fans crying or close ups of their devastated faces. I'm sure most of you have seen countless Facebook status's expressing shock and grief over his untimely death. My question is: why in the heck is everybody so upset? I've been thinking long hard, because I too felt quite upset yesterday, and I think I have found the answer. It's guilt.
How many times have we cracked Michael Jackson jokes? My personal favorite is the one about a kid asking his dad questions about God. ANYWAYS, how many times have we ridiculed him? There is not a single aspect of M Jay that hasn't been scrutinized whether it's about his nose that keeps on falling off or his close attachments to children. We've called him a molester, a crack addict, and a general psycho; and now that we've realized that this distant entity that we call Michael Jackson is dead, we realize that he was actually a fragile human being and that maybe, just maybe, we were a little too harsh on him.
Maybe all this grief and shock that everyone is feeling is just guilt in disguise. Just like how when middle schoolers bully the underling mercilessly until the poor kid cracks do people realize ,belatedly, that they have went too far.