i'm not sure. i used to. i used to be a rather devout catholic. then, some things in my life changed, and now i don't go to church or pray. i suppose i still believe there has to be something more, but i'm not sure if that is God or not.
"Wheresoever you go, go with all your heart." – Confucius
Monday, November 29, 2010
Who are the people you love most in your life?
believe it or not, i actually do love my family. my brother mitchell has always been very important to me despite how much i want to punch him in the face.
otherwise, i love my friends. I'll give special shout outs to Bill and Christine, but otherwise you should probably know. If you don't, I'm not doing my job properly.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Untitled 11-28
smile for awhile
says the music of the wind
laugh till your death
let it tickle all your skin
work for the work
not the money or the fame
be who you'll be
don't let them change a thing
simple is the wish;
take the pills before I sleep
says the music of the wind
laugh till your death
let it tickle all your skin
work for the work
not the money or the fame
be who you'll be
don't let them change a thing
simple is the wish;
take the pills before I sleep
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
untitled 11-17-10
trapped within the bones
of a too thin ribcage
it beats ba-dum ba-dum
until it bursts.
Bursts. bursts
from too much life
without enough love
Moloch! Moloch!
cries the Howl of the city street.
They, too, have been worked too hard.
We have been worked too hard.
Worked to the point of hiding.
Hiding ourselves with
masks and self discovery stories--
our self defining moments.
Moments of purest epiphany
that lead to this discovery:
know yourself and learn to love it.
of a too thin ribcage
it beats ba-dum ba-dum
until it bursts.
Bursts. bursts
from too much life
without enough love
Moloch! Moloch!
cries the Howl of the city street.
They, too, have been worked too hard.
We have been worked too hard.
Worked to the point of hiding.
Hiding ourselves with
masks and self discovery stories--
our self defining moments.
Moments of purest epiphany
that lead to this discovery:
know yourself and learn to love it.
Monday, November 15, 2010
let me tell you about courage
courage is sitting alone
in your room crying at the thought
of people finding out
who you are, but not giving up.
courage is writing down the words
that will change your life,
hoping it's for the better.
courage is taking the pills
that mess with your brain
because you would give
anything not to be crazy.
courage is leaving the room
and smiling, hoping
that today is better than the last.
in your room crying at the thought
of people finding out
who you are, but not giving up.
courage is writing down the words
that will change your life,
hoping it's for the better.
courage is taking the pills
that mess with your brain
because you would give
anything not to be crazy.
courage is leaving the room
and smiling, hoping
that today is better than the last.
No one home
I walk into my room.
The light's on.
Stop.
I stop.
I'm trying to slow my breathing
while at the same time prepare
myself for the fight or flight
response I'm not used to.
Did I leave the light on?
I take a step.
There's giggling.
I smile.
I recognize that voice.
She came to visit.
The light's on.
Stop.
I stop.
I'm trying to slow my breathing
while at the same time prepare
myself for the fight or flight
response I'm not used to.
Did I leave the light on?
I take a step.
There's giggling.
I smile.
I recognize that voice.
She came to visit.
Things I learned last night.
vermilion truth
with cinnamon lies
brings sapphire seduction
and emerald envy.
clear cups of rose hope
don't mix with jade memories,
and Brian texting Steph
was more ugly than true.
My life needs more ginger,
and his needs some mocha.
So, why don't we settle
this honest onyx waste of time.
with cinnamon lies
brings sapphire seduction
and emerald envy.
clear cups of rose hope
don't mix with jade memories,
and Brian texting Steph
was more ugly than true.
My life needs more ginger,
and his needs some mocha.
So, why don't we settle
this honest onyx waste of time.
writer's block
the words are gone--
torn from me
like homes torn from the ground in a storm.
windows of poetry stained
with the blood of my heart
lost from the wells of its chest.
the tears come slowly,
like a funeral procession.
fingers shake as they
slide the pen across the page.
it's over.
it's done.
my madness has stolen my mind.
there is no hope for this hopeless boy.
I'm cold.
torn from me
like homes torn from the ground in a storm.
windows of poetry stained
with the blood of my heart
lost from the wells of its chest.
the tears come slowly,
like a funeral procession.
fingers shake as they
slide the pen across the page.
it's over.
it's done.
my madness has stolen my mind.
there is no hope for this hopeless boy.
I'm cold.
finding the words
is like pulling teeth when creativity is no longer in reach. It is like flying a plane without any knowledge of the controls. The only thing you know is that you do not want to crash. You want to soar. You want to fly. You want words to come to you like wind comes to eagles wings. Like church songs come to faithful prayers. Like you live in a freshmen dorm and the constant door crashes and excited yells mean that you are alive. You want words to come like electricity-- in sparks and surges flowing through your body with alacrity. You want finding the words to be easy, like it's easy to look at you. When you dance it is like the world is conspiring to make beauty.
finding the words
is like pulling teeth
when creativity is no longer in reach.
It is like flying a plane
without any knowledge of the controls.
The only thing you know is that
you do not want to crash.
You want to fly.
You want words to come to you
like wind comes to eagles wings.
Like church songs come to faithful prayers.
Like you live in a freshmen dorm
and the constant door crashes and excited yells
mean that you are alive.
You want words to come like electricity--
in sparks and surges
flowing through your body
with alacrity.
You want finding the words to be easy,
like it's easy to look at you.
When you dance it is like
the world is conspiring to make beauty.
when creativity is no longer in reach.
It is like flying a plane
without any knowledge of the controls.
The only thing you know is that
you do not want to crash.
You want to fly.
You want words to come to you
like wind comes to eagles wings.
Like church songs come to faithful prayers.
Like you live in a freshmen dorm
and the constant door crashes and excited yells
mean that you are alive.
You want words to come like electricity--
in sparks and surges
flowing through your body
with alacrity.
You want finding the words to be easy,
like it's easy to look at you.
When you dance it is like
the world is conspiring to make beauty.
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