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.)))))))))))))
Saturday, May 20, 2006
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?)))))
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.)))))
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.)))))
Saturday, April 29, 2006
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)))))
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)))))
Friday, April 28, 2006
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...)))))
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...))))
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))))))
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?)))))))
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?)))))))
Friday, April 21, 2006
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...)))))
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)))))
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))))
to find God’s good graces
and try not
to be wanting.
((((just thinking))))
Saturday, April 08, 2006
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*****
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..
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 ******
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..*(*(*(*
I will try to fix the spacing on some of those old ones as soon as i have time..*(*(*(*
Friday, April 07, 2006
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...******
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.
19th 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 20th 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.
******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.*****
taking the time (spring 2005)
What would happen if she took the time
Instead of showering and masking her self derision
To show the world her beauty
By showing it it’s beautiful
And I confident to criticize
Without contemplating my motive
If I took that bitterness and instead
Started a movement
She the buck forty five for coffee
to jumpstart her heartbeat
and I the energy spent denying the lying
she the time spent procrastinating
I while anticipating
Somehow denying she’s trying
We play games instead of taking chances
Like when I play risk instead of risking
And she when defensive starts the dissing
****oh you know****
Instead of showering and masking her self derision
To show the world her beauty
By showing it it’s beautiful
And I confident to criticize
Without contemplating my motive
If I took that bitterness and instead
Started a movement
She the buck forty five for coffee
to jumpstart her heartbeat
and I the energy spent denying the lying
she the time spent procrastinating
I while anticipating
Somehow denying she’s trying
We play games instead of taking chances
Like when I play risk instead of risking
And she when defensive starts the dissing
****oh you know****
the other sort of comfort (2001-2?)
Somewhere in-between joy an depression
Right before numbness and full of confusion
I found words that could melt ice____
Felt their delicate curves, the texture and taste
Left in my mouth
Yet once spoken the words lost all meaning
Lost or taken for granted
Forever unused crackers going stale in the back of the cabinet
No hope of a future other than that of all broken, once spoken, phrases
Having realized this and its always bitter harvest
I felt betrayed by the world and sympathetic to
The words
But found with time they
Were incapable of feeling the same
Creating little but boredom
The light shone, words were a falsehood,
A magnificent façade a glamour a touch
Of sweet in a bitter world of cold, but
They are not warmth, not fire nor
Sun, a flicker a night light bright shock
At most and incomprehensibly dull in
Themselves
But who’s lips and tongue touched
Them moist and loving not even caring
About the words spoken the feeling placed
In them, the cozy comforting touch
On you heart as you listen
Goosebumps
Shiver
Never felt so loved
*****this is about words and poetry and such... the differences between trying to express emotions that mean something and writing for beauty's sake... i dont know when i added that last line, and im not sure i like it.*****
Right before numbness and full of confusion
I found words that could melt ice____
Felt their delicate curves, the texture and taste
Left in my mouth
Yet once spoken the words lost all meaning
Lost or taken for granted
Forever unused crackers going stale in the back of the cabinet
No hope of a future other than that of all broken, once spoken, phrases
Having realized this and its always bitter harvest
I felt betrayed by the world and sympathetic to
The words
But found with time they
Were incapable of feeling the same
Creating little but boredom
The light shone, words were a falsehood,
A magnificent façade a glamour a touch
Of sweet in a bitter world of cold, but
They are not warmth, not fire nor
Sun, a flicker a night light bright shock
At most and incomprehensibly dull in
Themselves
But who’s lips and tongue touched
Them moist and loving not even caring
About the words spoken the feeling placed
In them, the cozy comforting touch
On you heart as you listen
Goosebumps
Shiver
Never felt so loved
*****this is about words and poetry and such... the differences between trying to express emotions that mean something and writing for beauty's sake... i dont know when i added that last line, and im not sure i like it.*****
worries (2000?)
In a suburban city,
In the U.S of A
Young girl talks
On the phone all day
About material things
Abercrombie and shit
She worries about the dance
How she’ll pay for it
She wants to know
What should she wear?
How to do her hair,
Does he really care?
And how to walk in a pair
Of 4 inch heels
She wonders how he feels
While another girl
Worries about her meals
Out in Africa
She sits in her bed
Cloth on a dirt floor
House the size of my shed
And she’s crying
Cuz her family is dead
The police came
And shot em in the head
How will she get fed?
Now she has to wed
Just to get by
She saw her family die
Still wonder why she cries?
OK now here’s a change in pace just to help you get along
If you’re listening to this song
Ok now, you know we all worry about many different things
Its what this life brings
Pleasure but it stings
Its our freedom held in by steel bars
But lets look to the stars
Where we see an alien race
With worries on their face
A complicated case
Cuz there is no longer any trace
Of the base-ic solution
Of their energy and pollution
This once great institution
Has now fallen to a panic
The leaders insanely manic
They cant understand it
Why didn’t they start to manage
Now the planet is all damage
And their civ is done
Leaders on the run
People got the gun
Anarchy beneath the blue sun
This will soon be our situation
Planets got its limitations
But people got the motivation
To chop it up
and fill their cup
with polluted water
from dirty nations
the planets a living thing
its gonna die someday
we got to slow it down
not help it on its way
****I wrote this when i was a sophmore, reflecting on the differences between people in different places. i had gone to tanzania earlier that year.. I was starting to become involved in SOS (our environmental and social justice group at school)
it wasnt meant to place judgement on suburban girls just to note the differences, but i think my prejudice probably shows..*****
In the U.S of A
Young girl talks
On the phone all day
About material things
Abercrombie and shit
She worries about the dance
How she’ll pay for it
She wants to know
What should she wear?
How to do her hair,
Does he really care?
And how to walk in a pair
Of 4 inch heels
She wonders how he feels
While another girl
Worries about her meals
Out in Africa
She sits in her bed
Cloth on a dirt floor
House the size of my shed
And she’s crying
Cuz her family is dead
The police came
And shot em in the head
How will she get fed?
Now she has to wed
Just to get by
She saw her family die
Still wonder why she cries?
OK now here’s a change in pace just to help you get along
If you’re listening to this song
Ok now, you know we all worry about many different things
Its what this life brings
Pleasure but it stings
Its our freedom held in by steel bars
But lets look to the stars
Where we see an alien race
With worries on their face
A complicated case
Cuz there is no longer any trace
Of the base-ic solution
Of their energy and pollution
This once great institution
Has now fallen to a panic
The leaders insanely manic
They cant understand it
Why didn’t they start to manage
Now the planet is all damage
And their civ is done
Leaders on the run
People got the gun
Anarchy beneath the blue sun
This will soon be our situation
Planets got its limitations
But people got the motivation
To chop it up
and fill their cup
with polluted water
from dirty nations
the planets a living thing
its gonna die someday
we got to slow it down
not help it on its way
****I wrote this when i was a sophmore, reflecting on the differences between people in different places. i had gone to tanzania earlier that year.. I was starting to become involved in SOS (our environmental and social justice group at school)
it wasnt meant to place judgement on suburban girls just to note the differences, but i think my prejudice probably shows..*****
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