in this generation

in this generation,
we are all afraid
of eyes that peer too deep
and ears that hear too well
the secrets of the heart that have been locked
with keys thrown into the abyss

in this generation
we are lost but told we're found
by some one two step fix all
someone has paid for your college
someone has bought your coffee
the world is great if you just open you eyes
they say while i'm worried about my little sister who
hasn't eaten in 4 days

in this generation
even the music sounds different
i'll just filter the search engine and see if
a new sound will inspire me to more than just
a billionaire, a volunteer, or a sandwich maker
i'd like to be a writer
but the homeless man is an artist
and my counselor says i would be foolish

in this generation
the noise keeps me up at night
not only the lights and the sounds
but the noise of things to come
will there be room for me
will there still be things for me to invent
will my boss be ok with someone who took the summer off
just to be with the family

in this generation
we worry about the little things
and the little things don't care
and the big guys call the shots
and their money feeds two mouths
and the ocean fills with tears
of two babies by the road side
but i'm here concerned about eyes
that peer too deep
and ears that hear too well
and the lost key that i threw into the abyss.

I know Him who I believe
Whose light never dies, even in death
It goes forever onward, after and before me
So shadow exists not
But in memory

He that shines his light
Will walk in light
On hills and in valleys
He that lives in light
Will live on with light
And fear exists not
But in memory

Do you know Him who I believe?
Whose light never dies, even in death?
Will you go forever onward
Where shadow and fear exists not
But in memory?

a lonely voice called into the darkness
but the darkness did not answer.

still the voice called on
"what is it you have that i should listen?" asked the darkness.

"i can keep you company."

anna wanted to make something. she lived at home with her husband james. every morning, james came by her bedside to kiss her goodbye.

"have a good day." he'd say. through the warm spring and snowy winters, james went to work and anna stayed home.

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.

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.

james was a lovely husband, supportive in all anna's endeavors. and this made anna even more ill at ease. she felt useless.

"poor me." she pitied.

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.

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.

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.

this hole she can't climb out of, no one can fathom the depths. an endless falling.

6 black walls around her. she was floating in the middle uncontrollably. she was terribly afraid.

she was deep in sorrow.

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.

"useless, useless." they'd say.

they say reality is better than a simulation.
if i should want for it, i am surely unwise.

but i haven't been able to stop dreaming of the beautiful mountains.
mountains my eyes have never seen.

and i can't stop imagining a world of sunlight.
in this moment, i sit under a cloudy sky.

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.

4 years ago

If 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.

my favorite things in life are sunlight, trees, and music.
when they are together, harmony exists in my mind

how did music come to be?
that some sound waves should create melody?

why do branches reach toward the sky?
and the sky weave itself between the leaves?

can the sun truly be my source of joy and comfort?
then why do i feel happy so?

the sky rolled onto the horizon
the narrowing road disappeared into it
if i kept driving i will ride into the sky

--------------------------------------------------------------

the sky spread above me like a dark blanket
if i should jump up i would fall into it
the stars will swim around my ankles
alight in a watery glow

The Old Woman Inside

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.

She enjoys the quiet evenings as well when I play jazz in the background while studying about numbers and policies.

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.

sadness

when you are sad, your heart has this feeling.

it's heavy and it burns. like someone reached into your chest and pulled out your still beating heart, weeping and bleeding.

there is no cure for sadness, just more things that will only heighten this sensation; distance, denial, diversion.

heavy, heavy, heavy.

the old saying that sadness is pain.

it truly is.

nothing
is
as
it
should
be

why
should
it
?

leather jar

you were too wild for this living
a tumbling set of limbs among the weeds

you let them see too clearly
that inferno burning foolishly

with steel arms they handled
hastily your paper body, glass sheath

through my open window
you came silent, yearned to breathe

i realized your desolate wild
was a shelter for a fragile being

stoneheart

emblazoned on my chest
a stone
heavy like a son
who caught a cold
and in agony, died

i carried it bold
a blue passion
no one queried
i may need a hand

over grey mountains
and echoey valleys
it became my ally

my beloved pebble
kept the silence
& made me weep

when i was born

when i was born is an unofficial date
my mother said it was time to harvest
and there i was crying at her breast

so when i count the stars
i am a sagittarius, capricorn, and aquarius
for good measure

the facets of a garnet

my mother is like an earth gem
exquisite when you peer

fire on the surface
a scorched stone
though some think not as pretty

as a diamond worth 50

but the jeweler knows
this gem is like the found shell of a delighted hermit

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.

i had a dream.

a desert without sand.

a reverie, a mirage.

BRIGHT.

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.