Tuesday, May 8, 2018

just because someone created Amazon and is now worth more than 5 billion dollars doesn't mean other people are not worth as much. many people are just as smart, if not more, but they lack the outlet to make their abilities a reality. i can't imagine the amount of outstanding people still going unnoticed for their talent and skills and potential contribution to this country simply because they don't have the means to. pity.

Monday, January 1, 2018

i had a dream.

a desert without sand.

a reverie, a mirage.


but my eyes were hazy.

i saw across an expanse wide and as far as my eyes could see.

then it ended in the horizon where mountains rolled across the sky.

i hummed a tune.

a beautiful tune.

in the desert i spun around humming in my mind.

arms wide open.

the white of my dress floating all around me.

i leaned my head back and gazed at the clear sky.

i am looking forward to many things.

brighter eyes towards the future.

a more hopeful outlook on things that don't turn out right.

also i want to be more understanding of things i can't comprehend, no matter how twisted my mind becomes trying to figure it out.

i also want to be a better person.

and i owe it to myself to create.

create something beautiful.

something to be proud of.

and i owe it to myself to grow in myself.

confidence is hiding in this next year.

it is hidden in the smallest places.

in the people i meet and the teachers who teach me.

in the opportunities that invite me.

in the lonely nights of friends and family.

in my hands, it hides.

i will find it, i must find it.

and tame it, hold it, and keep it close.

love also.

unceasingly, un-apologetically, fiercely.

love with purpose and with power.

that all things i do can create waves.

waves to wash over people.

to heal and to mend.

to provide and to comfort.

i want to be a better me.

for me.
last year i grew a lot.

maybe a few half millimeters.

Thursday, October 26, 2017

The Dentists' Office

Just imagine for a little bit. A dentist office, but don’t picture a clinic. Rather, a cozy little room with sky blue walls and purple and yellow patterned carpet. It’s quiet and warm, sunlight coming in from two spacious windows to your left.  You sit in a worn leather couch facing the front desk. Jennie is her name. She answers the incoming calls, steadily and kindly, her voice breaks up the little drum in your ear. You can’t see Jennie, but her hair peeks out from above the wall window. It’s yellow and curly and it moves left and right. She’s typing softly, clicking away with the seconds. You are reading a book about life and death. With each finished paragraph, you look out the glass door at the cars passing by down the street and the little red car that pulls up in the driveway. A lady with a green jacket and a purse slung around her shoulders step out of a parked van with her child and walk into a store front. It’s late morning and the smell of coffee draws you into the next room. You pour yourself a cup and skip the sweetener. Down the hall drifts over you the dull sound of conversations and water draining; each room, a different aura. You can’t walk down that way so you retreat back to your seat. The glass door dings with the sound of a bell hung loosely around the handle. The chorus of daily motions come flooding through the open door. A father and a son walks in, shoes shuffling across the carpet. The door shuts; the choir hushes. Your eyes follow their back to the wall window where Jennie will take care of them.

“Hello, how may I help you?” A bright smile.

“My son , Leo, has an appointment today.” A pat on the head.

Leo looks at you as you pretend to read about the dying man on the bed teaching his student. Leo smiles and waves coyly. You smile back and they take a seat. Leo’s feet dangles off the edge of the cushion chair and his boots make a squeaky sound with every kick. His father takes out his phone and becomes distracted. You stare at the page in front of you but in your corner vision, Leo steps off his chair, a sunbeam seemingly following him into the shadow of the hallway. 

Wednesday, October 25, 2017

i'm figuring it out. leave me alone.

People are affected by other people. But everyone says you don’t have to be. You decide whether you want to be impacted negatively or not. So if you are affected negatively, it’s easy to say you are a negative person. Judged because you have a weak inner esteem; as if they expect that anyone can just float around on a cloud unaffected, to take every offense like a Buddhist and churn it out with your inner chakra into this shining beam of positive energy. Of course, they’re two polar opposites; why not just find a balance? Well, saint, life happens to us whether we want it to or not. Why was I not born a stone in this life? I think we are a machine and sometimes we malfunction. Oil me up and give me a break while I cool down. Also I may not be built with the same abilities as you. You may have been created with an ability to filter out all that ugly smoke that clouds on a regular basis, whereas, I was built with a broken piece of wood and duct tape to hold up my enormous ego. I will not be apologetic about it. Pride or not, do not disregard me as I won’t disregard your annoyingly positive outlook on this messed up, pollution-infested, poison-soaked piece of dirt. I am working towards a more upright train of thought while you skip your way into the sunset. I’ll see you there eventually, just let me figure how to build a ladder out of this hole I was put in, too deep for you to reach into and help me up. Thank you. 

Perhaps, if this was a game of charades, we might not be so different after all. 

Tuesday, October 10, 2017

i had hoped in something unseen, an idea
fleeting as a single glimmer of a dead star
and, yes, i had hoped in that thing not guaranteed
never a touch nor a scent to demonstrate existence
but it is an idea
now ideas are the most curious of all the mind's tricks
able to build on itself into a mass of unfathomable heights
its mysterious depths lost even to the conjurer
an idea can manifest into that which the senses attach
waking every morning
red eyes to see it
hands shaking to behold it
legs weak to tread it
and the mind,
exhausted to conceive it
yes, an idea, the thing of all man's hopes.

and the thing of all man's despair.