tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76295173535723235602024-03-13T04:47:31.108-07:00promptuousUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger70125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629517353572323560.post-21515338786661560502019-04-18T14:30:00.001-07:002019-04-18T14:30:01.299-07:00in this generationin this generation,<br />
we are all afraid<br />
of eyes that peer too deep<br />
and ears that hear too well<br />
the secrets of the heart that have been locked<br />
with keys thrown into the abyss<br />
<br />
in this generation<br />
we are lost but told we're found<br />
by some one two step fix all<br />
someone has paid for your college<br />
someone has bought your coffee<br />
the world is great if you just open you eyes<br />
they say while i'm worried about my little sister who<br />
hasn't eaten in 4 days<br />
<br />
in this generation<br />
even the music sounds different<br />
i'll just filter the search engine and see if<br />
a new sound will inspire me to more than just<br />
a billionaire, a volunteer, or a sandwich maker<br />
i'd like to be a writer<br />
but the homeless man is an artist<br />
and my counselor says i would be foolish<br />
<br />
in this generation<br />
the noise keeps me up at night<br />
not only the lights and the sounds<br />
but the noise of things to come<br />
will there be room for me<br />
will there still be things for me to invent<br />
will my boss be ok with someone who took the summer off<br />
just to be with the family<br />
<br />
in this generation<br />
we worry about the little things<br />
and the little things don't care<br />
and the big guys call the shots<br />
and their money feeds two mouths<br />
and the ocean fills with tears<br />
of two babies by the road side<br />
but i'm here concerned about eyes<br />
that peer too deep<br />
and ears that hear too well<br />
and the lost key that i threw into the abyss.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629517353572323560.post-42556856584190353892019-03-20T12:58:00.001-07:002019-03-20T12:58:22.266-07:00I know Him who I believe<br />
Whose light never dies, even in death<br />
It goes forever onward, after and before me<br />
So shadow exists not<br />
But in memory<br />
<br />
He that shines his light<br />
Will walk in light<br />
On hills and in valleys<br />
He that lives in light<br />
Will live on with light<br />
And fear exists not<br />
But in memory<br />
<br />
Do you know Him who I believe?<br />
Whose light never dies, even in death?<br />
Will you go forever onward<br />
Where shadow and fear exists not<br />
But in memory?<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629517353572323560.post-65222826495258641902019-01-30T20:29:00.001-08:002019-01-30T20:29:48.235-08:00a lonely voice called into the darkness<br />
but the darkness did not answer.<br />
<br />
still the voice called on<br />
"what is it you have that i should listen?" asked the darkness.<br />
<br />
"i can keep you company."<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629517353572323560.post-33703352561118863662018-11-26T14:23:00.000-08:002018-11-26T14:24:59.547-08:00anna wanted to make something. she lived at home with her husband james. every morning, james came by her bedside to kiss her goodbye.<br />
<br />
"have a good day." he'd say. through the warm spring and snowy winters, james went to work and anna stayed home.<br />
<br />
anna dabbled in various art forms. she made watercolor floral and wrote poetry. but anna was sorely unhappy. her heart laid empty without purpose or form.<br />
<br />
in the spring she sat under the lighted trees wondering about what the meaning of life was. under cover of early night, she peered through the darkness of her window wondering when her morning of hope would arrive.<br />
<br />
james was a lovely husband, supportive in all anna's endeavors. and this made anna even more ill at ease. she felt useless.<br />
<br />
"poor me." she pitied.<br />
<br />
she was stuck. the kind of stuck that can't be unstuck with a word or two. not even a chocolate cake could unstuck this stuck that she felt.<br />
<br />
inside her heart was a yearning unlike any other. a chemical imbalance of the mind that she couldn't just fix willingly. she was deep in sorrow. the kind that called for endless weeping.<br />
<br />
all the things she loved was a dim light in the darkness traveling farther and farther away from her. or rather, she from them. it was that hopeless shedding of clothing in the endless tundra of snow in the middle of winter. she'd let it take her if she couldn't help it.<br />
<br />
this hole she can't climb out of, no one can fathom the depths. an endless falling.<br />
<br />
6 black walls around her. she was floating in the middle uncontrollably. she was terribly afraid.<br />
<br />
she was deep in sorrow.<br />
<br />
if only she could make something worthwhile, something beautiful that she could give to the world. but the world would take it from her shaking hands without a second glance.<br />
<br />
"useless, useless." they'd say.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629517353572323560.post-43382964957523570362018-11-19T10:05:00.001-08:002018-11-19T10:05:14.365-08:00they say reality is better than a simulation.<br />
if i should want for it, i am surely unwise.<br />
<br />
but i haven't been able to stop dreaming of the beautiful mountains.<br />
mountains my eyes have never seen.<br />
<br />
and i can't stop imagining a world of sunlight.<br />
in this moment, i sit under a cloudy sky.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629517353572323560.post-40423594110372805272018-11-08T19:42:00.001-08:002018-11-08T19:51:31.804-08:00<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
That morning I woke up with the view of a ceiling in the
sky. A glitch. The script had been forced to run; someone had forgotten to
program it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629517353572323560.post-28862208475421215422018-10-11T13:07:00.001-07:002018-10-11T13:07:02.977-07:004 years agoIf I was a writer, I wouldn't mind staying up all night in my library, hidden from society but enveloped in a mirage of literary worlds. The shelves will be overflowing, breaking at the seams with words begging to be read and brought to life by the imagination. I'll be inspired, fed by the imaginary sphere of writers whose legacies went before me. I'll write and study and write some more of distant lands beyond the see-able universe, of a man who travels the dimensions and falls in love with Woman of the Wind, of a girl who can sing her heart's desires into being but mistakenly casts away her ability and searches the world over for it, of a whale who dreams of becoming a little mouse only to find how unsatisfactory it is to have to scurry on little limbs. And when I'm done with those, I'll write of normal things like rain on a tin roof, watermelon in a garden, and airplanes in the sky. There will be endless things to conjure up, there will always be more to say and I will never quit, never tire and never cease to let my mind rest. I'll become a lunatic before my imagination runs out. The history books will record of my manic artistry relinquished to society through proverbs and poems and I will become immortal, living in-between dusty covers that will age through centuries and, in one unimportant moment in time, be picked back up, flipped open and studied, cherished and revered for centuries to come.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629517353572323560.post-58213057526605824262018-10-11T13:01:00.002-07:002018-10-20T17:25:59.829-07:00my favorite things in life are sunlight, trees, and music.<br />
when they are together, harmony exists in my mind<br />
<br />
how did music come to be?<br />
that some sound waves should create melody?<br />
<br />
why do branches reach toward the sky?<br />
and the sky weave itself between the leaves?<br />
<br />
can the sun truly be my source of joy and comfort?<br />
then why do i feel happy so?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629517353572323560.post-43748951231207917132018-09-24T10:27:00.001-07:002018-09-24T10:27:58.087-07:00the sky rolled onto the horizon<br />
the narrowing road disappeared into it<br />
if i kept driving i will ride into the sky<br />
<br />
--------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
the sky spread above me like a dark blanket<br />
if i should jump up i would fall into it<br />
the stars will swim around my ankles<br />
alight in a watery glowUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629517353572323560.post-20374807201924351212018-09-12T09:10:00.002-07:002018-09-12T09:12:06.801-07:00The Old Woman Inside<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I feel on sunny days, through the lighted trees, she tends
to feel particularly happy. I look up and glance through the dancing branches
to the sound of Mozart Sonata No. 8 in A minor, a lovely piece, jumpy and
upbeat. She feels thrilled, I can feel it in my chest. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She enjoys the quiet evenings as well when I play jazz in
the background while studying about numbers and policies. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I feel inclined to meet my friends outside where the
loud music and flashing lights are, she is quite unhappy and reclusive. But it
doesn’t last long for in a moment or two, I am back in my dimly lit room with a
soulful tune and short story in hand. She can read for hours, the old woman, and I do enjoy her company a great deal. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629517353572323560.post-84137248376250435392018-08-17T07:57:00.003-07:002018-09-12T09:10:52.568-07:00sadnesswhen you are sad, your heart has this feeling.<br />
<br />
it's heavy and it burns. like someone reached into your chest and pulled out your still beating heart, weeping and bleeding.<br />
<br />
there is no cure for sadness, just more things that will only heighten this sensation; distance, denial, diversion.<br />
<br />
heavy, heavy, heavy.<br />
<br />
the old saying that sadness is pain.<br />
<br />
it truly is.<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629517353572323560.post-78969501100372572372018-06-19T17:56:00.001-07:002018-06-19T17:56:43.335-07:00nothing<br />
is<br />
as<br />
it<br />
should<br />
be<br />
<br />
why<br />
should<br />
it<br />
?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629517353572323560.post-13262906794545905002018-06-19T11:55:00.000-07:002018-06-19T14:44:06.891-07:00leather jaryou were too wild for this living<br />
a tumbling set of limbs among the weeds<br />
<br />
you let them see too clearly<br />
that inferno burning foolishly<br />
<br />
with steel arms they handled<br />
hastily your paper body, glass sheath<br />
<br />
through my open window <br />
you came silent, yearned to breathe<br />
<br />
i realized your desolate wild<br />
was a shelter for a fragile beingUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629517353572323560.post-15370131292857959322018-06-19T11:31:00.003-07:002018-06-19T14:47:12.027-07:00stoneheartemblazoned on my chest<br />
a stone<br />
heavy like a son<br />
who caught a cold <br />
and in agony, died<br />
<br />
i carried it bold<br />
a blue passion<br />
no one queried<br />
i may need a hand<br />
<br />
over grey mountains<br />
and echoey valleys<br />
it became my ally<br />
<br />
my beloved pebble<br />
kept the silence <br />
& made me weep<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629517353572323560.post-66928646077153604192018-06-18T11:48:00.000-07:002018-06-19T10:46:47.237-07:00when i was bornwhen i was born is an unofficial date<br />
my mother said it was time to harvest<br />
and there i was crying at her breast<br />
<br />
so when i count the stars<br />
i am a sagittarius, capricorn, and aquarius<br />
for good measureUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629517353572323560.post-49654518768349827292018-06-17T20:17:00.001-07:002018-06-19T10:47:11.934-07:00the facets of a garnetmy mother is like an earth gem<br />
exquisite when you peer<br />
<br />
fire on the surface<br />
a scorched stone<br />
though some think not as pretty<br />
<br />
as a diamond worth 50<br />
<br />
but the jeweler knows<br />
this gem is like the found shell of a delighted hermit<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629517353572323560.post-84624783076181939092018-05-08T09:08:00.005-07:002018-05-08T09:08:54.751-07:00just 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.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629517353572323560.post-9744648359011390822018-01-01T13:15:00.003-08:002018-01-01T13:15:39.235-08:00i had a dream.<br />
<br />
a desert without sand.<br />
<br />
a reverie, a mirage.<br />
<br />
BRIGHT.<br />
<br />
but my eyes were hazy.<br />
<br />
i saw across an expanse wide and as far as my eyes could see.<br />
<br />
then it ended in the horizon where mountains rolled across the sky.<br />
<br />
i hummed a tune.<br />
<br />
a beautiful tune.<br />
<br />
in the desert i spun around humming in my mind.<br />
<br />
arms wide open.<br />
<br />
the white of my dress floating all around me.<br />
<br />
i leaned my head back and gazed at the clear sky.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629517353572323560.post-47604780766003843762018-01-01T13:06:00.001-08:002018-01-01T13:10:20.262-08:00i am looking forward to many things.<br />
<br />
brighter eyes towards the future.<br />
<br />
a more hopeful outlook on things that don't turn out right.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
i also want to be a better person.<br />
<br />
and i owe it to myself to create.<br />
<br />
create something beautiful.<br />
<br />
something to be proud of.<br />
<br />
and i owe it to myself to grow in myself.<br />
<br />
confidence is hiding in this next year.<br />
<br />
it is hidden in the smallest places.<br />
<br />
in the people i meet and the teachers who teach me.<br />
<br />
in the opportunities that invite me.<br />
<br />
in the lonely nights of friends and family.<br />
<br />
in my hands, it hides.<br />
<br />
i will find it, i must find it.<br />
<br />
and tame it, hold it, and keep it close.<br />
<br />
love also.<br />
<br />
unceasingly, un-apologetically, fiercely.<br />
<br />
love with purpose and with power.<br />
<br />
that all things i do can create waves.<br />
<br />
waves to wash over people.<br />
<br />
to heal and to mend.<br />
<br />
to provide and to comfort.<br />
<br />
i want to be a better me.<br />
<br />
for me.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629517353572323560.post-25068757633247596002018-01-01T13:01:00.002-08:002018-01-01T13:01:30.531-08:00last year i grew a lot.<br />
<br />
maybe a few half millimeters.<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629517353572323560.post-71774142669785759392017-10-26T07:34:00.002-07:002017-10-31T09:46:45.159-07:00The Dentists' Office<div class="MsoNormal">
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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Hello, how may I help you?” A bright smile. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“My son , Leo, has an appointment today.” A pat on the head.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629517353572323560.post-33942949981509688852017-10-25T12:06:00.003-07:002017-10-26T07:23:19.383-07:00i'm figuring it out. leave me alone. <div class="MsoNormal">
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. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
Perhaps, if this was a game of charades, we might not be so different after all. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629517353572323560.post-76284029241039901862017-10-10T13:22:00.000-07:002017-10-25T12:14:40.529-07:00i had hoped in something unseen, an idea<br />
fleeting as a single glimmer of a dead star<br />
and, yes, i had hoped in that thing not guaranteed<br />
never a touch nor a scent to demonstrate existence<br />
but it is an idea<br />
now ideas are the most curious of all the mind's tricks<br />
able to build on itself into a mass of unfathomable heights<br />
its mysterious depths lost even to the conjurer<br />
an idea can manifest into that which the senses attach<br />
waking every morning<br />
red eyes to see it<br />
hands shaking to behold it<br />
legs weak to tread it<br />
and the mind,<br />
exhausted to conceive it<br />
yes, an idea, the thing of all man's hopes.<br />
<br />
and the thing of all man's despair.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629517353572323560.post-75628809065202085932017-10-09T13:00:00.001-07:002017-10-09T13:02:16.530-07:00i was fixated on a feeling<br />
it was collecting in the crevices of my subconscious<br />
eating at me like an infection<br />
and when at once i could understand its nature<br />
i was consumed, already, in a dream of vicious imagery<br />
one after the other in a trance upon my cheeks<br />
life like apparitions danced in line to the tune of violins<br />
my throat, dry<br />
but i sang a song to accompany<br />
the lonely figures telling their stories<br />
and crying out from the other side<br />
and tore their skincloths in agony<br />
and prayed empty promises<br />
and chased the light<br />
and they ate and drank their fill<br />
until they fell<br />
upon my feet<br />
where my eyes had bound their bodies<br />
and my lips trembled in mercy<br />
have mercy<br />
and quietly the silence gave way to a breath full of white<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629517353572323560.post-70097886205760747652017-10-02T08:01:00.001-07:002017-10-02T08:01:07.710-07:00<div class="MsoNormal">
I am thinking one of these days I should wake up on a bright
morning and drive down a road with the sunlight breaking through each branch as
I pass. And I should, in my mind, not have any thoughts of regret or sadness. I
will see, with clear eyes, a day which is beautiful and untainted with memories
of days past drowning in remorse and anger and nervous hands clenched towards
the future. I would, in that moment, be content, settled in an unceasing
feeling of happiness that I have finally made it. I have finally made it. <o:p></o:p></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0