Blessings in Disguise (dec 2006)

Wake up another day,
another chance to count my blessings
Though on the horizon
I spy the dark clouds coalescing
This is the way - to fortify my spirit,
Confront the wave of change
And never fear it

There is a place here
for every feeling
every notion
and when the waves near
we learn by dealing
with the motion

Oh when I’m doubtful
I reach for the hand of who ever is nearest
I guess we all do
And sometimes our vision aint the clearest
This is the way -we place our faith in others
Rather run with the crowd
Than cement ourselves to the covers

For those who stay there
Wind up sealing
Their fate - by their devotion.
while those who flow away but care
learn through healing
their emotions

So come stormy horizon
Rain down on my parade
I know you’ll do your best
To leave me lost, hurting and afraid
This is the way - I’ll learn as I’m tested and baptized
That this fiery rain of hell
Is heavens’ blessing in disguise.

((((just trying to remind myself change is good, things that seem bad arent always...written in the shower)))

A Farewell to Samson (winter 2006)

A Farewell to Samson (winter 2006)
He's not just stains and splatters
sometimes tattered costumes
scattered guitar playing
fairy tales, rare references
quotes from comedies
no one else has seen

he’s deep thinking
deep delving, dives to the bottom
dives dramatically
sometimes NO bottom
sometimes sad silence

pilgrimages to three pronged idols
after pillaging the 4 times distilled silos
and they call out wolf like 5 times
then 6 play risk for a while
complaining of corruption that formed cruelly from competition
risking all, vigilant canoeing solo, patrolling solo through the prairie night

he’s the silent sentinel
for his sisters honor
protective to a fault
but never halting
in vegan vigilance and every other
beans and rice highlighted
with prominence

and with that same loyalty
living dreams,
you hope that without reservation unshielded you could
walk a new direction

east in search of love, of life, of promise and freedom
but if you don’t write articles about glass eating how can we read them?

rare jazz pieces and castlevania
the bizket variety hour
showering my car with mr misty
strangers upright kung pow and 3b....
solidly a part
of the heart -land of indy.

and now we've all gone, and you must too
but go with love and know we'll miss you



(I tried to write this really quick for a friend, it was read to him in front of many of his peoples on 12-16-06, about thirty seconds after being finished.)

(winter 2006)

Drop anchor love,
For cruelest winds have caught you,
Send you sailing in distant directions,
Weary and frustrated with lack of provisions
Angry and fearful for loss of vision

Drop anchor love,
For my causal blowing
Was meant to lift your sails
Not send you seething,
Why cut the connection
Why sever in leaving
All forms of affection?

Drop anchor love,
For if nothing else there once was a reason
Look back fondly
For Homes are still homes
though ripe with imperfection
the welcome mats still here
only friendship soothes rejection.


(((((a letter to someone I care about))))))

We must Confess (unfinished fall 2006)

We must confess

We’re so loyal to oil we support wars we don’t believe in
Killing and maiming while claiming to free them
And my reply comes shining like some sort of liberal beacon
Drawing and waving signs like “love and peace man”
Imprinting them proudly on my face
arm
and chest
would have saved more lives buying bullet proof vests
but did I invest?
no, I flee from the west
hoping to find some peace in the east.

I must confess

sometimes I get stopped at the door,
Confused and slightly distressed
when Instead of pushing, I pull it
And I know a lot of you got confused
with Bush and his bull shit
but the real world spins in cycles
just like a top
more like the revolving door
and when it starts it don’t stop
so a bomb we drop
on one side spreads
the panic and fear
and soon enough you know
we feel that destruction right here

the cycle spins
we say their people can go to hell
for what they did to us on 9/11
but we have sent 15 times as many
Iraqi casualties to heaven

The cycle spins


((((((I just ran in to a couple of political lines i wanted to use, cant quite get the rest straight)))))




*FULL FINISHED VERSION (july 2007)*

Confessions from the Cyclical Cyclone

We must confess

We’re so loyal to oil we support wars we don’t believe in
Killing and maiming while claiming to free them
And my reply comes shining like some sort of liberal beacon
Drawing and waving signs like “love and peace man”
Imprinting them proudly on my face
arm
and chest
would have saved more lives buying bullet proof vests
but did I invest?
no, I flee from the west
hoping to find my peace in the east.

I must confess

sometimes I get stopped at the door,
Confused and slightly distressed
when Instead of pushing, I pull it
And I know a lot of you got confused
with Bush and his bull shit
but the real world spins in cycles
just like a top
more like the revolving door
and when it starts it don’t stop
so a bomb we drop
on one side spreads
the panic and fear
and soon enough you know
we feel that destruction right here

the cycle spins

We drop the bombs saying,
We must kill them before they kill us.
But each bomb splinters families
And causes kids to want to cause a fuss

The cycle spins

Old men who’s lives destroyed by our bombs
learn to want nothing but revenge.
and when they strap explosives to their chests,
we prepare to avenge.

The cycle spins

we say their people can go to hell
for what they did to us on 9/11
but we have sent 50 times as many
innocent Iraqi casualties to heaven

The cycle spins

We must confess

We lost our patience and
jumped upon perceived foes,
our frustration never satisfied,
and for some in fact it grows
as our leaders corrupt with power,
replace each enemy with another
manufacturing our consent
with fear of “the other.”
The other cant learn to turn her cheek
Its burned or depleted through starvation
And still we claim its only justice
When we launch invasions into
the homes of foreign nations.

random scribblings (summer fall 2006)

Minnesota's Other Season
And as for the construction crews
Well they take two lanes and a shoulder
Forcing me to hold her tight to the right
On coming traffic enters of course
Coarsely forcing me to be swerving
amongst the unnerving arrow lights.


Dark and Red
while watching the coke pour on to the grenadine, I thought about how strange and exciting it was to watch the dark mix with the very red syrup and wondered if thats why bush is so eager to make these oil blood concoctions everyday.

In Remembrance of the Garden (spring 2006)

My dear do you remember the ever blooming flowers,
the fields and the hours spent strolling under the cascades of clear water reflecting the summer sun,
before the sneaky one?

Do you remember the smell of the un-thorned rose
and the elegance of the birds prose, the enchantment when morning arrived with blessed song,
before our present wrong?

My dear have you forgotten your friends
Do you think we can make amends, so that we can again dance with the ones of fur
Like we once were?
Do you remember?


((((((this was supposed to be another in the adam and eve series... i was gonna keep adding but never got around to it. never finished the series either, muses are cruel monkeys))))))

Giving (fall 2006)

So my brother split open, set asunder, with mock expression of wonder so still and frozen on thy face
did you even see the car coming? Did you flee at the sight?
Were you standing or running?Was the snaking path, black top, that set habitat from habitat, the black river a death trap instead of the spring of life, abounding and rife,
with machines likes knives, that cut through you…
did you wonder? Why brother after brother, sister and sister
go away and are missed, are you leaving
us this way, as well?
Does streaming light, at high speeds, at night, really hypnotize you just right? Or do you give effort to protecting by letting, just one slaughter, one martyr, give cause to us all, hoping one day the traffic will sway, decay away, like your body your gift, your warmth and your presence, which returns as the essence is reborn and replenishes, the scavenging forms, of your brethren.


((((((I wrote this in the car mainly, and then again later typed it out... uh i was driving and kept seeing deer all splattered, and wondered why that happens, and wondered if there was something to be learned from it, besides drive slower and be aware))))))))

Peace (august 2006)

Everyone has the right to peace
But I hear bullets cease to cease
And their numbers increase
Each day to release
more violence

Why are we silenced?

When its been made certain
Like light decreases with curtains
Violence begets violence - and hurtin
There is not “one” less deserving

For throughout all the ages
In all evolutionary stages
No matter the trends or rages
With abacus, calculators, coloring pages
In palace, hut or cages
In scrolls books and pages
You’ll find Gods, prophets and sages
Proclaiming the necessity and wisdom of peace

((((((((Just to be sure you knew.. shits fucked up and it aint right)))))

shades (summer 1999)

So I put on these shades
And watch the world die
See the roof cave in
And ignore the cries
I see babies starve to death
And all I do is sigh,
And perhaps say goodbye
Cuz I put on these shades

So I put on these shades
And cry all these tears
Behind these dark safety glasses
I see real life fears
I see things I cant stand to believe
And so I don’t
But when I look in to a mirror
I cry
Because I don’t have shades

So I put on these shades
I see a child with holes in his shoes
I see so much pain
I cant stand to
So I look away to safety
Yet still I lose
And so I choose
To turn around without shades.

((((((this was a song I sang out loud while writing it... crying. We were at a school in Tanzania, a dirt field with shards of glass, a classroom without desks or even walls or a ceiling (the broken pieces of which were used to sit on, or write on)
I was in a pissed off crabby mood, and refused to see. But life hits you hard when you feeling stubborn, and that little kid was just staring, not able to say anything, hoping for a pen or a piece of candy. we can try to ignore it, but its there and we know. Life is too important to be hiding from, too many people are suffering to not say anything. --so says me now and at 15 crying in the back of a van. The first time I performed this i think i cried throughout the whole thing, i prefaced it enough so people knew what i was talking about, and i think i have always shook, but im pretty sure it was something different then.))))

A kidnapping and face slapping (summer 2006)

I wish this cameraman
would turn his lens on you
Push through
The famous worldliness
And external ambitions of honest good.
To see through the smoke screen
Fields of green
That seem to turn childcare to child’s play
And navigate through
the clouds of magic dust
display your tragic lust
the not so mild ways.

But how can I judge?
In red carpet awards of Nobel human help, you wrap yourself
Against that wall of publicity, tenderness, civil servant-ness
can off hand rumors bare to even slightly crack?
The flack of former friends means nothing when it contends,
And “ex –loves” -- well you didn’t love -- so when it ends,
The scarring is their own fault.

I wonder if your tourniquet
is wrapped so tightly around your neck
That you cant speak, let alone breathe,
conceived
a plan to save yourself
each action “for the good”
like a robin hood, but the story stands slightly altered
as you give the riches to the poor
and then rob them some more
plundering spirits
on the other side of bedroom doors

American Dream (August 2006)

The American Dream
Got me a big screen TV
So I can watch my soaps and
Sitcoms , sit calmly by while
Others are denied such simple pleasures

The American dream
Got me my lazy boy recliner
I cant think up a better definer

The American dream
Got me this pool filled
With chlorine
Serene scenes attempt
To wash my guilt clean.

((((just sitting up one night or something, started rhyming in my head and writing it out.... I had listened to some people spewing garbage on the american dream on fox news radio.... I guess my thoughts on the american dream is that its selfish in a way, and also that it has gone from something that might have been noble at one point(though a lot of hypocrisy would have to be allowed) to being something more like content and apathetic. I often hear of former millionares back in the day who helped establish things like libraries on their death beds, but now more and more even the rich are robbing the poor again and again. no handouts or step ups.
even the shit about working hard, well maybe we are already working too hard, maybe our goals shouldnt be material driven. i think stronger communities and such would be more worthy a cause. There could even be nationalism based on something real, a community of support of love, rather than a country who's pride comes in how many big ass cars they drive. we will figure it out, hopefully before its too late)))

Riots (2001)

This chaotic uprising
The affects of downsizing
And cops brutalizing -their citizens

Politicians analyzing
The acts
Immortalizing
But songs still tributizing –the anarchy


(((((Im fairly sure I wrote this, and "power" in poetry club, thinking about random shit, trying to impress my heros, turning up like an idiot... anyway im almost sure this poem is about sublime's song "april 29, 1992" and other such events. )))))

Power (2001)

Power
The uncontrolled
the sweet and the sour
rocks in to bricks
bricks in to towers
breaking limbs
until the people decide to cower

I know a place where power comes in the amount of cows
Not the stocks in the Dow
or the oomph in the POW!

Speaking of Pow-er how much comes in the dollar
If my time aint worth cash
Who’s chain is attached to my collar?

For chris (2001)

For Chris


Tossed like a dirty shirt,(Chris)
Played out rhythm.(A repeating system that does not work!)
Passed on by our fathers’ (given up on)
Reborn children. (The same old politicians)
Shadow slave repressed,(robbed of freedom)
Told to sing songs of submission. (Told to give up)
Forgotten peace, chains stalking (its chaos in handcuffs)
denied ambition.
Sentinels on the lookout (Cops are looking)
for the next,
Silly nerd boy who feels misunderstood.
Making money to be cool,
selling drugs in the neighborhood.



((((((This was the first poem I wrote about Chris D, I think he had just gotten put in Juvie or something, we werent sure what was happening to him, and I dont think I had gotten any letters yet. I was sitting around trying to brain storm for class, but i was a rebellious little fucker who didnt want to do any of my assignment and instead wrote about what ever the fuck i was feeling.... it ended up being included with two other poems (power) and (riots) -both of which will be up in a second, and put on a picture... (maybe throw that up later)
---this is the first poem I ever wrote with a sort of more literal translation included... the spacing is all fucked up on blogger so I couldnt show that, and just put the translations in (example).))))))))))))))

Untitled (august 2005)

Adventure had left her, had whisked her away
in a seeming ghost town she had found her krumlov
enchanted in mountains, in prairie, in hills
life flows freely and allows her to live
and like the lions the bears the squirrels that
loudly chatter
she shines amongst the standing trees
while she works at the diner
the motel
the local general store
and like the charcters who thrill her,
she gives each person more.


((((this girl i met in a small town outside of glacier national park))))

Adam Adjusts and Reveals His Admiration.

Chasing everyday to find a higher purpose
Looking in cracks and crevices,
happily distracted by the latter recourse
and if she is the source, then oh what a source.
I once tasted her inner turmoil like a bad apple,
ridden with scars and bruised by times’ inequities,
did I gasp and choke and spit up, but take a second bite?
I’m glad, she offered the apple that night.

Chasing everyday to find a higher purpose
Looking at cracks and crevices
to find some discourse
on things I find beautiful and shameful
but you claim are not so self-inflicted.
Will she bite, when the flesh rips and conquer this ghastly pit,
and when she does will I like that kinky shit and can I bare it?
I feel blessed with the offer, and thankful to share it.

Chasing everyday to find a higher purpose
Looking on as cracks and crevices
change course splitting old wounds,
deepening with force, the wounds to make them worse.
Teeth of sacred indemnity,
but each bite brings forth our identity
so we hide behind the bushes cuz she asks me to
I’m glad cuz there’s nothing I’d rather do.


Chasing everyday I’ve found a higher purpose
Looking at her cracks and crevices
Captured rather happily by that blossoming source
That without force
Brought sacred flowers a teeming
And fruit bearing women new meaning
And will I accept when she offers her partnership again?
Where she leads I follow, just as its always been.




((((this was/is supposed to be the first in a series, on the adam and eve thing. I was trying to think about all the good leaving the garden did... how much more we are able to appreciate, and thus thank eve for the invite... but one of the positive/negative bi products of the apple saga is sex. good sex, painful sex, loving sex, and unloving sex... and of course it is antifeminist to call woman sex, but in thanking her we must also thank her for this gift. so a sort of pro/anti feminist stance on this one... in a way.)

Are You Jenny E

Are you Jenny E?
I see you in every skinny short haired long skirt
wearing nubile goddess
But the essence was never marred by your lack of physical presence
In shadows you leaped and jumped
panther wild
A sleek style
with subtle exclamations
Is it any wonder my mind meets you
melting through crowds on my vacations?


((((I met this chica who later became a friend, on my first trip to italia with mi amigos... that trip was good times. Anyway shes a really cool girl, i used the word "nubile" because it was the first word that came to mind, I wrote all of this in like 3 seconds on the street in krakow... which is why its no good... but anyway "nubile" apparently means sexual, and im not sure i ever thought that way about jenny though she is quite beautiful... it was more about hearing her thoughts and enjoying the adventures.. but i think its funny that i think i see her more than any of my other friends when im out walking around... maybe its just her look, maybe its the fact that i could imagine running in to her anywhere in the world i guess. anyway funnily i ran in to some cats the other week who went to a school she went to down south and they said they had heard of her but didnt know her. Basically she was always really soft and quiet (around me) but seemed to have bigger plans and thoughts than most, and a strange beautiful energy that left a nice impression.)))

Backpacker Conversations

I wonder about the shortness of breath, of words and places to visit with much excitement.
wonder if it will return when Im in turn with you, like the song you sent on a lonely Tuesday afternoon.
He tells me of his blues, the hues of which I've seen before in my own past and scored with such ambitious removal and disapproval and yet in circus we agree with the placard placement, for it is so important to make the statement.

(((((((talking to this guy, who left his life, and love, to travel, to find himself, and he was worried he would lose so much. constantly worried, like i was before... both feeling like we knew we were meant to be home, and yet both acknowledging that the trip was the right thing to do.)))))))))))))

They Call Him Crazy

They call him Crazy
He pleads guilty in action, although is not actively aware of the accusation.
So his pleas to the embassy fall on ears, distracted by fears.
We've heard the rumors and humored the haste and his unkempt face.
But with disrespect overlooked the innocence in his voice,
the possibility of pain behind the strangers' choice.
But they call HIM crazy.

I've been called such before, and almost lost myself before ressurection.
Hasn't the best of us, spent time pondering our own recollection?
Wasnt our inner darkness shattered by the surrounding light?
Yet we allow him to stand alone to his astounding fright.

They call him Crazy
He looks on while faces turn to mock, mitigating another mountain.
Those fortresses built high to barricade, from the impending raid.
We're locked out from his artistic bouts, on mute to his glorious flute.
And when we joke about his unsure future, past and present,
we miss the God-sent presents that he has, and we haven't.
but they call HIM crazy.


((((((this is specifically about a man I met at a hostel, who everyone wanted to be kicked out, because he scared them, but because they didnt listen they didnt know anything about him. How much are we missing, labeling people, hiding or supressing them? what gifts could be shared with the world?)))))

Desecration of Endearment

Wraps her gently,
Bound, entangled
pressed and pushed
to further mangle
and she gives in to his
calm and clever words,
biological manipulations
as he further enhances the situation
with lips and pleasant finger tips

stroking neck and hair
she asks if he cares
and he replies with lies
without hint of dishonesty
and later honestly
brags of his player status
as if that is what matters
unhinged while he shatters
her hopes and dreams
thrusts to make her cry
she dont know hes not what he seems
and in the morning he doesnt say goodbye

(((((
this is actually about the first scene in the movie KIDS which is a movie i really like, but hate the content of. I always find myself quite grossed out with the characters and yet sort of tantalized by that lifestyle. I remember setting out to write a screen play in a similar style around 15 and i only got about 8 pages in.
Anyway. The movie is about these new york skater kids, and begins with the lead male talking a young girl in to having sex with him.)))))

Gardens of War (april 2006)

Bells ring out,
through the gray and orange sky, where the air holds some sort of weight, some sense of itself, of its fragrance and feelings. And this sorted day displays a peculiar glow for the ramparts below are arranged and have the desire for entangling. Strange it is that such waved nonsense like cloth carries symbols for rejoicing, but stranger that such could bring brothers to struggle for rubble replacing…
Such it is that buildings fall once standing triumphant, replaced by weeds and roots as our mother comes a calling. And with ease she takes the toys from boys who cause commotion
Leaving flowers in the rubble to remind us of a higher form of devotion.


(((((was looking through pictures of war torn cities... a lot of them have trees and branches poking through the walls and windows... as if the moment the building is hit, it gives way to nature... certainly no one cares about the building anymore so it is allowed to go to waste... but beautiful things pop up...
hmmmm turkey is kind of like that... popped up from the fall of the ottomans...anyway... yeah)))))

untitled (eating disorders) (spring 2006)

I question her motives…
Do you give up pieces of yourself
To feed the starving tummies?
To reach some sort of balance
In the world?
To throw off shackles?
To make space for others?
To find yourself?
Find God?
The meaning of life?

Do you give yourself
So unquestioning
To provide?
To create?
For justice?
To truly live?

She replies…
To fit in these jeans
To fit in
To feel comfortable
To be confident
Beautiful
To not HATE myself!

To do this…
She starves
Takes from herself – the
Ability to succeed, leeches
The beauty from her cheeks,
Hips, arms, legs, stomach,
Chokes the breath
Rips it away from her brain –her organs

She bleeds, while not bleeding
She leaves us, while claiming
Shes not leaving


((((((this will be a painting... some of you have seen the draft... im sorry if this offends... i was writing to my parents about this issue recently... actually about me and this issue, about my own personal struggles... and i realized that this poem... written in a few moments of extreme frustration was in a lot of ways showing my own struggle. I always claimed that I was fasting.. a sort of spiritual stuggle to overcome the body's needs (and i still think this way) but it doesnt explain the feelings when i look in the mirror, my disgust at stepping on scales etc... and though most of this is changing or has left in a lot of ways because of my interactions with other's problems... its interesting that i dont contrast healthy thoughts with "disordered thoughts" but rather these pseudo "rationalized" motives i used to use for the same exact purpose (to lose weight)--as if they are so much better... as if that would make it ok.
Anyway in my letter to my parents I tried to explain how confused i used to get... in spiritual quests.... how i always wanted to be loved and be a great person... and a part of this was to be free of needs... but part of this meant being attractive....

anyway i would like to apologize to those who's motives i criticize... but i still think this is an interesting poem/picture...)))))

untitled intro (spring 2006)

And so he speaks,
Unsure of the words from his mouth
Like pollen,
To give birth, create,
Or hurt, agitate.

Speak easy-slow and comfortable
Rack your brain for
A free flowing
Rain

To invigorate, excite, give life
Drop drip drop
Drop drip drop
Love live love
Drop drip drop

And in the dance
When your body moves without you
Open your eyes -share it with your partner


(((this is the opening to my art book... just nervousness, hoping to make something worthwhile... the problem is its so small.. and im worried about painting in there, but so far got some good pictures poems and quotes...))))

no photo (april 2006)

-as if to capture this moment
this movement
were a CAPITAL CRIME,
a sublime TRANSGRESSION
but such impressions
only last moments though
and when we forget
without haste they remind
and in haste they define -these simple rules

rules
rarely changing –never allowing the changes to be
broadcast
as if fighting time’s sublime alterations

alternatively
they ask-without moments notice
and with high hopes
expectations
for those rare and beautiful items

and so we are forced to recognize that like “currency” or “precious metals”
they withhold –so as not to DEVALUE
but if they believed in the truth of TRUE BEAUTY…. They would know

A SMILE IS WORTH MUCH MORE THAN GOLD.


((((((there was this photo of a sign that read "no photo" tied up in barbed wire... i think a war picture... but i put it in my art book and decided that i would write about that concept... that denial... and i use to do it too.
that one verse is about how often people who dont let me take pictures of them ask for pics later... anyway... whatever. no photo... written in a park in istanbul))))))

Communal Kitchen 20:45 Madrid Espana (feb 2006)

The representatives gather
Displaying common
Instinctual
Individual…. Desires
Each assigned their place, their nation, their role
They stand… and dance
Cooking
Communally displaying their talents
A different language
Alien ingredients
A pinch of tengo
A dab of salsa
A teaspoon of polka

And we whirl around
The gestures impromptu
The colors
And smells
Of estrangement

What is my dance, my flag, my quisine?
The French eat Italian -and become the EU
Americans eat tortillas and the Americas unite
Japanese eat European food and Eurasia is reborn

Continents come together in the kitchen
Communal dancing
Community of life.


(((((((this was based on the actual event in madrid... watching as nationalities melt away in the kitchen... still its funny... backpackers call eachother by locations not names... whats my flag? does it matter when i recognize the humanness of it all?)))))))

Betty (april 2006)

Betty

Sometimes when she hears the other kids
She asks Betty why she cant play no more
But she gets no reply

And when they pass by on their way to school
She asks Betty why she doesn’t go like before
But she gets no reply

Sometimes when shes reading
She asks Betty why she cant visit far off places
But she gets no reply

And sometimes she remembers simple things
Reminds Betty about the lack of shoelaces
But she gets no reply

And when her parents are fighting
She asks Betty why their bills are so high
But she gets no reply

And sometimes she feels them burning
Tells Betty she refuses to cry
But she gets no reply

And in frustration sometimes she asks Betty
Why bitter people make war
But she gets no reply

Sometimes she screams at Betty
Remembering what her medicines for
But she gets no reply

And every once in awhile she cries out to God
for help or just to listen
But she gets no reply

And so she asks Betty
Confused about her mission
But she gets no reply

Sometimes she thinks of the future
Asks Betty will she marry
But she gets no reply

Yes sometimes she dreams in vain
Asks Betty bout the baby she cant carry
But she gets no reply

Sometimes she looks out her window
Explains to Betty about dancing in fields
But she gets no reply

Sometimes she sees those children dance
And asks Betty if they know the power she wields
But she gets no reply

Sometimes she asks Betty
Why her ears still ring with the echo of that boom
But she gets no reply

And other times with difficulty
Asks Betty why she cant use the bathroom
But she gets no reply

And when she misses him the most
She reminds Betty of her desperation
But she gets no reply

On his birthday, Christmas the anniversary
She asks why shes not with him on vacation
But she gets no reply

But to show her strength she always does it alone
Whispering in the darkness her intent to die
But she gets no reply

But she fears the reaction of her parents
A second child who didn’t say goodbye
But she gets no reply

Sometimes she screams out
"BETTY WHY AINT I GOT NO LEGS
WHY HAS MY BROTHER DIED!!!?"

And she asks these questions of Betty over and over
Because one time Betty replied...

((((((Bouncing Betties.... the horror of impersonal warfare.. this horrible device was created to kill, and is used throughout the world (The United States is one of the largest producers of land mines despite them being against UN human rights protocal.) Every year innocents are mamed and killed by landmines -sometimes from wars decades before. The former Yugoslavian wars... used mines extensively in the hills -which are still not to be hiked etc..

this one is rather long and might be somewhat boring but i think in a performance it would be a bit more powerful... its really sad when you think about this shit... the bills, the frustration, the reactions from people who cant help and cant understand... i imagined some girl sitting in bed all day, unable to talk to anyone but God for help... and finding no answer she turns to the device which changed her life forever...knowing it cant help her...but hoping that one day it would react to her pain in the same way it reacted to the child's foot...)))))

sea side sadness (april 2006)

Oh blue of blues
I have seen you thrice
But never better
Less contingent upon the weather
Your shimmering shining splendor
Dance and roll to sculpt the clay

But to subdue your creative spirit
They have cemented



((((commentary on beauty and beaches)))))

yoga (april 2006)

Ballerina stretching
to find God’s good graces
and try not
to be wanting.

((((just thinking))))

A song for a future wise woman (spring 2006)

Conquer the world with your kindness Mateja
let your beauty shine
with music in your head and your talking shoes
you'll always be doing fine

Love the night, the light the life
dont run but explore your mind
and smile and sing and share that joy
with anyone you find

play me a song on your guitar Mateja
let your beauty shine
with music in your head and your talking shoes
you'll always be doing fine

Remember to love them all Mateja
the interesting and the bland
Even Britney is looking for beauty in life
and she'd be proud to shake you hand

Conquer the world with your kindness Mateja
let your beauty shine
with music in your head and your talking shoes
you'll always be doing fine

******this is a silly and stupid song, but this 14-15 year old walked up to me today and asked to take my picture. I said fine as long as i could take hers, and we sat and chatted. She was pretty sweet, i wish i were like her when i was 14, and i listened to her advice hoping to get tidbits from the woman she will become. good times... anywho i was just happy to have met a nice young amazing*****

silly poems from Zagreb (spring 2006)

____A__________________________________________________________

When the flock flees a feared and scatters
The child stands trumpeting triumphant
The parent stands idle not realizing it matters
To correct young sadists before their screaming announcement
____B______________________________________________________

If you are in Europe in any town
There is a statue of a man on a horse
This is the man who nobly led
And who was victorious in war
Around the statue will be some birds
Who happen to be the source
And upon his noble majestic head
Will be what these birds know the statue is for.

____C____________________________________________________________

When you see the lonely Babushka selling flowers
With her “help me?” sales pitch
Don’t be deceived by her cunning powers
For in reality she is quite rich
With basement full of hydroponics
Her flower fields bloom in the coldest of winters
And the Babushka Mafia pushes out competitors
While their corporate alliance never splinters

*****
A and B seem fairly self explanatory, C is a silly hypothetical, and of course isnt true..

Paris Riots (spring 2006)

And when at last they get their way
The protesters become violent
So amassed to seize the day
They amuse in the power of the defiant
So amazed with the power of what they say
They fear a return to being silent
And thus the few set streets ablaze
But most go back to being compliant

And we in turn debate the right
While when at home we sit and spoil
Recognizing the fires that bring the light
But not the sacrifice of being disloyal
Can we relate, not having felt the bite
Of not knowing security while you toil?
Is the present, cause to fight?
When fires bring the future to a boil…


*****Paris riots, turn on the news... me and Rachel were having a friendly little chat about the situation... she feels that the students are going to far and it will end up hurting the country more. I think its hard to judge when our own students dont do shit and should ******

sidenote

(*(*(*(*(*(*
I will try to fix the spacing on some of those old ones as soon as i have time..*(*(*(*

the black one (fall 2005)

Everyday, I run across that magnificent Arab
At the end of the line
He greets me with a snort
And paces…
Showing his Displeasure Ears Rolled back
He wonders bout his Safety…
Cuz in Solitude he stands…
Separate
Distanced from his pleasure
His pleasure
Where’s my food? My shelter?
Where's my security?
Where's my sensation of a safety net?
Where's the Attention I once Commanded But never demanded

He breathes heavy
Shouldering bricks of dissatisfaction
Where’s my pleasure?
The leisure to lead, proceed, exceed our desires
Where are you? He breathes heavy
Where are you?
Oh He breathes heavy
As if the Air in his deep chest
Don’t compare to what was once there
He breathes So heavy Comparing air to air yet still he feels it lacking
Lacking the comfort of someone to roam with, talk to, and moan with
Someone who shares his discomfort so that it hardly seems there it all!
Distance!
Distance is what he feels now
So Distant he’s defensive
That’s right he breathes heavy now Ears rolled back
He retaliates
Please you? I please me now!
He reciprocates
So insecure he presumes fear now!


And pacing like a true stallion
He’s
Heavy breathing
Heavy and impatient
Heavy breathing
Heavy without complacence
Heavy breathing
Heavy with fortitude
Heavy like he’s been fractured
Heavy frightening heavy fierce and flagrant
Heavy deceiving all so he’s not perceived as stagnant
Heavy breathing like the world owes him something!

Heavy breathing facing down his fear of something - something
Unfelt in So long and he got used to not believing it

Or maybe faithfully
He chose to remain ignorant
So faith-lessly he’s a feared of being alone while
He’s questioning all that he believed now
And Wondering
Why He’s not the one you need now?


*****This is once again, more of a performance, and im sure the spacing will be messed up but the old stuff should help get the point across. reading this even now, i was so lost, so heartbroken..
there was this horse in the stable who would pace with me when i was upset.. he would stare and snort and stomp his hooves and i felt like we knew exactly what was going on... later i found out he has some sort of breathing problem... which kind of ruins it... but at the same time i cant tell you how connected he was to my emotions...******

Tainted Nation (2000-1)

This land you live on now,

First found by ice age cavemen,

Overdeveloped gorillas, didn’t know who, or why, or when,

Their only goal to hunt, and survive,

Evolution steps in

Tribes of humans start to thrive.

Alien men show up in the water with the sun.

Funny looking clothes,

Skin as pale as ghosts.

Bright colored hair, fire sticks, 2 x 4s set in a cross,

War breaks out, plague takes out, mass population loss.

False treaties signed, war kills still,

The body count at hundreds of mil,

White man assimilates; try to break the will,

Of the people who stand proud till they killed.

In Africa colonization begins with slave forts.

Europeans trade goods, for slaves at every sea port.

Middle passage is hell,

Made worse by the smell

And the “goods” lives end way too short.

Tortured in a small boat, like a dog in a cage,

“Make em sick and malnourished, to keep them from rage.”

No energy to fight back,

And the whip stings when cracked

But the land brings hope,

Until they realize “nope.”

It’s just another fort to be sold at.

Fat white man with a hat

Demands they speak English

For their new found master.

“Too slow!! Speak faster!!

Cuz that strong one looks like a laster,

For the tobacco fields”

But the master still wields,

The power,

In the form of a whip,

Like back in the ship,

It’s a never ending pain trip.

War with Mexico or Europe seemingly long past

With the first signs of industry popping up fast.

Civil war and the outcome, a good day in theory

But though things change a lot, they still don’t change.

Racism runs rampant through the hills through the streets,

Still a white power nation in control at the judge’s seat.

“You drank from a white fountain, used a white bathroom?”

KKK will get you wake up dead in a tomb.

19^th amendment in history pretty rare,

all of a sudden selfish men learned to share.

Things may have changed with women’s votes

but the great depression left people without fuel or coats.

Early 20^th century, world war shocks the ground,

Gunfire, bombs, and stomping boots are the sound,

You hear as you walk on the decaying streets

Of any European town.

The cities are in shambles, the camps

Reek of a horrible smell,

Though this time its decaying bodies, hurting people, burned to hell.

Gas warfare, and napalm,

Destroy everything that’s calm.

Radio reports of bombs hitting pearl harbor,

And machine guns start blazing.

Nuclear warfare; people burning while gazing

At the mushroom cloud in the sky

V-day a semi sane world dies.

Society suddenly thrusts into a place,

Cold war threatens, “Children cover your face!”

“Under the desks when you hear the alarm.

Don’t know much about it but a nuke will do you harm.”

Still today people can’t cross a hill, fence or street,

Why do they need to cross just to survive, just to eat?

We sit here watching TV in a leather seat,

Ask yourself this one while you eat that tasty dairy queen treat,

Has America been tainted by cheaters trying to cheat?

Minorities always struggling

On plantations they felt the heat.

Or modern day society

Feeling police dogs breath on their feet.

Always fighting back cuz they know they can’t be beat,

We never ever except defeat.

Society is made up of people so this is what I ask of it,

What’s up with this past and present pattern of bigotry us hypocrites?

Discrimination aint got no place in this people or from our governments

We cannot sit here doing nothing nor just talking all about this shit.

Change may take awhile but we can help at least a little bit.

******this was my epic history poem... i think i got some facts out of order... but i cant tell you how long i worked on this... and like much of the stuff i did sophmore and junior year it has that activist theme.*****