American Joe

Crippled by illness
Works the daily retail grind
A high school dropout.

Writing

Black blood,
Bleeding on white,
Empty page of paper,
Limitless possibility-
Now gone.

The Lady of Fall

From the bards of the United Empire of Ozur comes the tale of the Lady of Fall, said to live somewhere in the South Remar Forest.

The Lady of Fall

Down in the forest deep,
In dark fens where black things sleep,
Beyond the last of the marked stones,
Loves a lady, fair and alone.
She moves from tree to tree without sound,
Yet her voice in your head does pound.
When she looks at you with her lidless eyes,
She takes your soul and your body dies,
She twists your form to be her thrall,
Until silence befalls us all.

Thus is the tale of the Lady of Fall.

A Campus Walk

I sail through the dark,
Passing from sea to sea;
Oceans of concrete, still,
Reflecting the lights of the moons
Suspended in cages of glass.
Then, I come to an imprisoned sun,
Illuminating the black water with an orange glow
As warm as the light of a fire,
But not nearly so violent.
It invites me,
Drawing me in with the gravity of its beauty.
And I stop beneath it,
Where my friend awaits me in her ship of rubber.

The Dogwood Fruit

Before time,
     Before light,
There was nothing
     And everything.

It all came out with a bang.

Seconds in that early world,
     To us would be eons.
A world that was uniform, smooth
     Save for the smallest variation,
That created microscopic valleys and mountains
     That would give birth
To the glorious incandescence that would become--
     Stars and planets,
Space and time, 
     Water and earth,
Life, the universe, and everything.
     That would become the dogwood tree
And the little fruit I hold in my hand--
     The universe telling us its story.

El mundo y we

El mundo es so vast,
And nosotros somos so small.
Yet los vínculos de la humanidad
Es today stronger than ever--
For somos semejanzas
Be greater than
Somos diferencias.

For somos valeres--
El valore de somos ciudadas,
De somos pueblos,
De somos paísos,
Of our world--
Son valores shared
By all of us.
Yo felices ser a part of it.

The Door

There is a door.
A door at the top of a stair.
A stair that is at the bottom of a tower.
A tower that is on top of a hill.
A hill that is on top of a plain.
A plain that is on top of a continent.
A continent that is on top of an ocean.
An ocean that is on a planet.
A planet that is in a solar system.
A solar system that is within a galaxy.
A galaxy that is within a galactic group.
A galactic group that is within a galactic mega-cluster.
A mega-cluster which is part of the fibres that together create the Observable Universe.

And behind that door,
Behind that door is you,
You with the ability to change everything with your actions,
If only you go out that door and try.

They Will

Look out there, upon the masses of people
Scurrying below.
They move with such purpose
And with urgency;
As if what they are doing matters
As if they as one of billions will make a difference
In the vast expanse that we call the Universe.
The funny thing is--
They will.

The Black Rider

A man, dressed in black rides into the town.
He sits upon a nightmare colored stead,
His face obscured by hi black woolen cloak.
He enters the town with the setting sun,
Bringing with him the cold and dark of night.
The blackness of the night enveloping--
A shade, taking the town into its folds.
The black rider is met by a lone knight,
Who he beheads with one swing of his sword,
Leaving the knight to fall to ground behind.
And so it was for all the rider passed,
Either death by steel or by pestilence.
And thus he made his way out of the town,
Leaving it a lifeless set of houses.

Reactionary Dolts

I see
The rising tide.
Ignorant and stupid,
Elect reactionary dolts--
Our doom.

We are all slaves (to capitalism and consumerism)

I am a slave.

You are a slave.

We are slaves to the culture of capitalism and the consumerism that we are all a part of. They are our masters. They tell us how we are supposed to dress, how we are to work, and what we are supposed to eat and to drink. They urge us to consume, to endlessly consume new things—new clothes and cars and cell phones—when there is nothing wrong with the older things.

In fashion, we are told that fall is here, and that orange is in, that it is what is cool. Then winter rolls around, and now orange is out, and red is in. This cycle continues indefinitely, with colors and cuts constantly changing, moderate iterations on previous styles. We are made to perceive—nay, we are told—that if we don’t consume these newest fashions that we will lose social standing. In that way, we are slaves to the culture of capitalism and consumerism.

In the world of gadgets, of technology, we are made to consume by minor improvements or alterations of design. You should really go get a new refrigerator to replace that year-old one. You couldn’t possibly live without that extra inch of space that the new model has. Goodness gracious, have you seen the new iPhone? It is one percent faster than last years’ model. But you know, maybe it’s a good thing that you did buy the new model, because in another year or so, the old one you had would have broken, since they are designed to work only until the warranty has expired.. So in that way, we are slaves to the culture of capitalism and consumerism.

Even in how we perceive social interactions are we slaves to the culture of consumerism and capitalism. If I see a girl that I like, and I want to get to know her better, I ask if we can get some coffee, or get some lunch, or maybe a romantic candlelit dinner. If I want to catch up with an old friend, I ask him if he wants to go get a drink. Social interactions have become an excuse to consume. Think about holidays. On Valentine’s Day and Halloween, and Easter for that matter, we buy candy. Their original purpose has become clouded, as they now serve as reasons to consume. The worst offender of them all though is Christmas—the holy day in which everyone goes and spends money on presents for the people who matter in their lives. So much money being spent—so much profit being made.

I am a slave.

You are a slave.

We are all slaves to the culture of capitalism and consumerism that permeates our society.

Insomnia

You are a crippling master.

You demand too much of me.

Every night you make me preform rituals to you.

You demand I position myself this way, and then you command me to reposition that way.

Never are you pleased.

You need the light to be a certain way. It can not be too bright for you, oh Great One.

You demand of me so much--too much.

And when I do not fulfill your demands, you withhold from me a thing most vital--my sleep.

Finally, I'll be fed up, and I will vow to outlast you, and you give me a false hope.

But soon thereafter, you giveth to me what you withheld,

Thus devastating me.

How do I say what I want to say?

How do I say it?

How do I force myself to say the one thing that is central in my mind, the one thing that is nagging at me regardless of what I am doing?

How do I say that I like you?

How do I tell you that I like you?

Should I be direct, taking the frank and candid route? They say honesty is the best policy, but what if you reject me? Rejection by anyone hurts, but by you the hurt would not in just a temporary, superficial hurt--but in a deep, lasting one. It would be like a stab in the heart and a blow to the gut. It would feel like I had all the air sucked out of my chest and like my legs disappeared out from under me. I would want to cry, to run away, filled with the shame of thinking that someone as great as you would ever want to be anything more than a passing acquaintance with someone like me.

I could be subtle. I could be sly.  I could drop hints here and there, and take the safe route for my own feelings. But what if you don't pick up my hints? And is that fair to you? What If I mislead you? Then I'd be the one hurting you, and I couldn't live with that.

Maybe I'll take a hybrid approach. Maybe I'll write you a poem, like this one. But maybe you'll think that is cheesy. A poem? How original. Now I am just stalling, because I am afraid to say it, but here it goes.

Look, I like you.

I like you.

I like you.

But...do you like me?

Between Two Worlds

I woke up today, and I realized that this is the end.
This life—the life I have known for the last seventeen years—
It's over.
It was a good show—so people say.
I did a good job.
I passed my classes,
I'm graduating, with honors.
But I can't help but look back from the top of the hill at my old life.
The life that will end tomorrow.
I can't help but feel nostalgic.
The entire experience colored by rose-tinted glasses.

I look back and I see all of the good times,
I see myself winning soccer games,
I see myself onstage—dressed in drag, and in suits,
I see myself singing my heart out in choir,
And I see myself becming friends with all of you.

I look back, and I see all of the struggles.
I see myself running for student government for the first time.
I see myself taking test after test, taking SATs and ACTs and applying for colleges.
I see myself cutting my head open and brusing my ribs.
I see myself stuggling with Pacifica,
And I see myself saying goodbye to all of you, my friends.

Who knows what the world has in store for us all?
I certainly don't.
I do know that life will go on—
It won't be like this one.
It will be different, but that's alright.
I know that it will be full of surprises,
And full of adventure,
And that it is up to us to seize the day.

Unsubscribe From the System

Unsubscribe from the System

I am waiting for people to understand that the current government does not work for them.
To figure out that they do not live in a republic, but an oligarchy,
To learn that Big Business and the Koch Brothers own all of the sleazeballs on Capitol Hill who call themselves your representatives.
In reality, they serve themselves, then their sponsors, and then their party.
You are just an afterthought.
Who needs integrity when you have ads and media buyouts?
When the game is rigged so you can only choose from two moderate parties—one left leaning, the other right.
I am waiting for people to understand this,
and I am waiting for people to understand that every vote matters,
and that if they actually voted for the person with integrity and not on party lines,
then real change can be made.

We Inherit the World From Our Ancestors

I am waiting for the world to change for the better.

I am waiting for the governments of the world to battle global climate change,

to reduce carbon emissions and oil consumption,

to turn to the wind and the sun and the sea.

I am waiting for the people of the world—the conservative people—I am waiting for them to
stop being disillusioned,

to accept that we are the problem,

to accept that we must change ourselves to save the world,

to acknowledge that there is not another planet we can go to

to realize that once they die, there are others who have to live with their mess.  

Pacifica

The Pacifica Project is a project that is required to graduate from Seaside High School. Every senior must do a 50+ hour community service project, and then afterward, do a 15 minute presentation at the Seaside Convention Center to the community at-large. My thoughts looking back.

It's over.

It's done.

Now, I have time for some fun.

A date, with a lady in blue.

My pillow, how I long to see you!

Integrals

Trigonometric functions all blur together,
Sine, cosine, tangent, secant--a jumble of radial operations.
Integrate this function times that one.
Make sure the interval is right.
Antiderivite it.
Wait, too soon.
Substitute in a u.
Make it the natural log's derivative first.
Now antiderive.
Plug all the numbers back,
And finally an answer!
Just remember to add a C.
No.
Wait.
Shit.
That's just f(x).

Blood is Blood is Blood

Blood is blood is blood.

It doesn't matter whose blood it is,

Blood is blood is blood.

It doesn't matter if your a man or a woman.

Blood is blood is blood.

It doesn't matter if your gay or straight.

Blood is blood is blood.

It doesn't matter if you don't come from the same country,

Or if you come from the same continent.

Blood is blood is blood.

It doesn't matter if you speak the same language,

Or if you pray to different gods,

Blood is blood is blood.

It doesn't matter if your skin is colored different,

Or if your hair or your eyes.

Blood is blood is blood.

It doesn't matter if you eat meat or not,

Or if you like rock or jazz.

Blood is blood is blood.

It doesn't matter what your differences are with others, 

Shedding blood is an act of violence,

It is unnatural.

It is wrong.

What is natural though is love.

Compassion, caring for others. 

That is natural.

That is good.

Love is hugging friend,

It is kissing a lover,

Sleeping with them.

Love is holding a suckling babe close,

Feeding it, keeping it safe.

Love is how you treat your mother and sister and brother. 

It is how you treat your neighbors and teachers and pets.

Love is natural.

It is what we all do and express.

Violence is not natural.

It is a crime, and no matter what justification you may have,

Blood is blood is blood.

Taking a Break

I am quite tired.
I'm taking a break today.
Come back tomorrow.