Tim caffery (02/09/1978 / San Fernando Valley, Los Angeles, CA)
Biography of Tim caffery
[post note: as of 1/20/14 I am actively trying to gather support towards launching a signature drive to ask Obama to release me to Fukashima, Japan to assist in the clean up, as a delegate of citizenless humanism and as a fully consenting adult, of sound mind, free from all coercion. How? Please, help me figure that out. This isn't exactly realistic on many levels, but if you can see why, not how, then I'd appreciate your support moving forward, through till Dec.1, this year.]
I was born in the San Fernando Valley, scene of the movie 'Chinatown', in 1978, February 9th. My mother and father had a broken relationship and ended up divorcing twice, only once in my life. Oh, I'm the youngest of 3, one gender each and me. My mother is a Christian Conservative now, but when I was young she was very liberal. I mean, we did live in rampant poverty. For the first 15 years of my life I was raised in an city called Sepulveda. However, because crime got so bad and the middle class were suffering property value losses in the surrounding suburbs, Sepulveda was rebranded and renamed, North Hills. Yes, it is pathetic. I learned quickly that rather than fund my elementry school the governement, via police officials and city council members of surrounding communities, thought it better to quarentine the San Fernando neighborhood with the most crime, mine. So, concrete filled steel post were put into the intersection that provided access to my 'hood' to prevent unrestricted access to a entire neighborhood. It took sometime before someone mentioned that this was.... not very humane. So now, yes till this day, they have signs and lines on the asphault citing penal codes and potential penalties to those who dare to not notice these areas righteousness. Very humane now, but this is America and poverty and freedom don't know each other exist I guess.
Anyway, my mother transforming more and more into a Fundemental Christian Extremist was swept up in the aggressive anti-abortion movement at this time. So, my home was a library of mutilated fetuses, hate filled propaganda and a message that emphasized 'burn in hell'. As damaging as this environment seemed, or turned out to be for a while, it was from in this that I fostered the desire to help my mom relay her message of 'pro-life' in a way that was different, less scary I would guess.
It was a regular day, probably a Saturday cause I was raking leaves in my grandpa's backyard, when it just hit me-my first poem. I think I was in 5th grade, cause the jacket I remember having on, but I knew that I discovered something amazing and I was so excited. I ran into the house and told my mom, like I just won a new NES, I had made a poem and I thought it was good. Yes, I thought it was good first! (still do) :
Death, is a fly in a spider web,
A bullet through the heart,
A baby with no love.
I was so sure that this could help my mom fight abortion. I hoped it would be effective enough to justify aborting the pamphlets from our home. Whatever the reasoning was in the end, I don't think she was motivated by my poem, but she stopped restocking the material. Funny, I would guess that it was financial strain more than anything else, as the material wasn't free to us, She bought it to distribute it to gain the favor of God. So, in that context one of my earliest heroes in life, besides Arnold (sorry, I'm human) , was poverty. I'd pick poor and roach infested and crime ridden over that type of violence we were participating in, even with the best of intents.
But being that I am but a boy, growing angrier and angrier at the injustices I observed, the constant external attempts to dictate right and wrong, to use our families unity to promote priciples that were destroying it at the same time, I succombed to fear rather than depression, like my sister, that was manifested in the very violence that scared the shoes outta me and became just another statistic, ending up in junvenile prison at 15.
So to skip what I don't know how to write yet, at least not they way I want to read it, I am now back to where I started so to speak.
I live with 2 roommates, sisters from NOLA (New Orleans) just a few blocks from where I grew up. Poetry has remained a staple of my character and has a huge impact on the way I envision things. I still dream of writing poems that help people, or maybe just help me understand other people's opinions.
I enjoy the offensive consolement of truth that a poem can relay. I also love that poems are like the first 'marco' photography and one can take as small a topic possible and make it as big as their fears or dreams allow them. I have learned that poetry is forged in fear or anger, at least in me, but the fear melts away with challenging it and skill is developed.
My goal is to write poems that are absent of all fear or restrictions. I know that if I can develope this type of ability, all my poems will be beautiful..... or transformative.
- A Simple Glimpse
- A Single Little Poem
- All Hail, GITMO
- Am I Genocide
- American Father
- American Red
- America's Real Enemy
- As Such
- Augustus Cesar, Central Bank
- Baby Girl, You Are Life
- Beacon's Beach
- Blood & Sweat
- Children of a New Year
- China's Capitalist Revolution
What A Poet Has To Do
A poet would write about whiskey and weed
And some, humdrum along about want & need
But a man just has got to get up and go
Less he be crushed under the stage of the show
An' them female folks can do all the more
If they plagued the poet like the shopping store
And a kids gotta know just how to foot the bill
Until they're lucky enough to get over the hill
A poet would write them all away with one stroke