The sunset at the edge of the world

I stood up high on a mountainside, among the rich and famous and looked out towards the waters that flow off the ends of the earth. My eyes drawn by a running star whose jet-stream pulls the horizon further east casting off waves of burnt clouds. At it's outer edges the sky is dark like charcoal with hints of steel blue ebbing towards an off-peach orange that caresses and cuddles with the dancing yellow-neon orange, at the center a blood red fluff beats unselfconsciously , putting to shame the reddest of roses. The sun dives off the edge into the endless universe, and the Sky takes it's time to fade to black, none rush it.

De-evolved dragons begging for money

Oh how far hath the serpent fallen-
To plastic bins on sidewalks,
In the hands of frightened strangers.
once they were feared broadly
And respected, divine-
Now they are coddled and kissethed.
Thiefs long ago stole their powerful arms and legs and fire.
They now lay on shoulders-
Comforting necks like expensive but uncomfortable fur,
coiling without striking, a postulation
They whisper their griefs(beg)
With fast forked tongued whispers-
To an uncaring breeze.

Fair stranger on a pier

She sat at the end of the pier
Staring out at the sea.
She wore a brown coat
Drapped in white flowers.
Meditating, her all gold bicycle
Smiles at the waves.
A stranger I met-
Carrying her sunny personallity
From warm place to warm place .
Adorning her ivory fur hat-
Whose hairs although dense
Flutter in the breeze-
she climbs onto the golden stalion
And with a kind good-bye wheeled
far away.

From sea to shiny sea

I have looked out into a sea more south and testify that the one closer to my home be as briny and maybe more beautiful . On the end of the pier I stand on wood just as hard,beneath a sun just as bright.The world contains many different things and replicas of replicas of things and each is unique in it's own sense,but none is loved more and less appreciated than that which we are most familiar.

chilly pass

Oh the cold
How it creeps
and seeps into the skin
Down to the core, bones
Iced marrowy depths.
so elegent our crystal breaths
Expand and dissapate before our faces,
Like ghosts.
The bones of our ancestors fertalized
The crunching porceline grass,
Whose dew cast spiderwebs
-now an emerald pixiedust -
Shatter beneath our clumsy numb feet.

Defrosting mammoth remembers-

Stalking time in the wintery night
icy breaths from cold steel lips
no words escape - nor wish to
only the boldly stupid brave the blizzardy dawn

Tell me a story

Tell me a story
of way back when:
life was hard and exciting .
when winters where colder
summers hotter
and parents harsher.
when brothers and sisters loved each other
just because there was nothing else to love.
oh wont you please tell me a story-
turn back the clock.
to a time more golden-
where always the whole world was at the brink of extinction
and the world collided with its self .
Tell me of how you got where you are
by ship for many weeks-
cramped and underfed.
tell me of the majesty of the ice caps
and the grandeur of the forests,
Lady liberties purity
the shadowy terror of that looming mushroom cloud
and oh how it lingers still..
tell me
of simpler times
when red white and blue was just that
and pride was indivisible still.
of times when dreams were possible
and hard sciences still imagination.
Tell me about where we go when we die,
and what happens when we get there.
Tell me of love-
tell me of loss-
a story please will do.
in return,
i'll live my whole life for you.

More flavour

Armed to the tooth with pointy objects and blunt instruments-
to stab and to brutalize.
Digging into the flesh of my heart with your jagged eyes
searching behind lies for the ugly truth-
as we both know uglier is tastier.
Real fresh Meat is hard to find-
I know, I can feel your jaws grind against the rind.
Your antagonisms are relentless but savory,
I'll still resist the evils of your society- lord-
far after my hair as been salted and peppered.

Why i should always carry a pen

There are times i cant recall
what i did or said or thought
or where i was or when or why.
The writing is on the wall for all to see
but for me its not even a distant memory.
sometimes ill write what i have not yet thought,
or think and forget to write.

Thinking can sometimes be like dreaming for me,
ill grasp the thought like it is a ribbon tied to a very nice balloon,
the ribbon slips and slips until the balloon is free,
and the thought is free of my mind forever.

Sometimes i hold tight my ideas
praying that they wont leave me,
my grip irrefutable and strong
yet in vain -
the idea is carried off by the wind as its sandy grains fall from my head.

Rarely can i capture my beautiful thoughts-
cage them onto paper,
forever.
But for some reason i then feel guilty,
as if i broke a rule.
or tried to keep what should not be kept.
so i release the dream from its bonds
and wait for it to return to me when it is ready.

Sometimes i think,
maybe it is me who is not ready.

Finding time to breath is not always easy

Our complicated lives can be smashed into a million pieces in one instant
like -
a broken vase
its shards scattered on the floor
and flowers lying still, drenched by the shrapnel.
Moments like that you hold your breath and wait at the bottom to explode
hoping-
that on the way up you will have an epiphany,
maybe you will reach the surface and feel the sun and have hope,
praying you wont get caught beneath the ice and drown in sorrow.

We may feel the pains of the past flutter back to us with razor wings-
stabbing and scrapping our lungs.
puncturing our hot air balloon and dragging us down to earth and reality.
causing us to stop and admit, it hasdidmightcouldwill-happen. . .
and leave us feeling hopeless and caught in despair.

Sometimes you have to muster every bit of strength you have to heave in oxygen-
to take a deep deep breath and calm down.
Breath so deep and so long you can feel the very planet exhale before you do.
But in your exhale you let go of all that is weighing you down-
pain
sorrow
despair
the weight on your shoulders that you no longer can bear,
nor should you have to-
Because there is a limit to how many years you have to carry your sins.

once and a while everyone deserves to take a breath-
Finding the time to is not always easy.

Lamppost Ghosts

What ghosts they are who stand beneath the lamppost-
Cold and shivering,
In the darkest hours.
Young and pale
Like lonely lilies.
What redemption do they seek?
What comfort might they reap-
From standing beneath such an icy-
cold light?
Like angels they stand bathing,
Cleaning themselves in the sturdy-
Immortal lighthouses that glow
down our twisting-confused roads.
You can see them standing there-
eternally beautiful.
They vanish Before you look again,
And turn to a memory-
Or nothing at all.

Thanks-Giving

I hope everyone had a good thanksgiving I know I did. Sometimes its good to make a list of things your thankful for.

I'm thankful for:
food because I am an American and like to eat unhealthy.
family because they are the people who help shape who I am for better or worse.
friends because they shape the rest of who I am. . . usually for the worse . .. but in a good way.
college cafeteria food because it makes me appreciate a home cooked meal.
tryptophan because it makes me tired and lets me sleep like a normal person.
hot chocolate because it is warm and delicious .
alarms because they wake me up in the morning.
and silly little lists because they remind me of the important things I sometimes forget.

-Mad Hatter

Nobody wants Super man to die

Who?
What?
Where?

United states
War
Everywhere

When?
Now

Why?
I don't know anymore...

World domination,
Destruction.
Or obstruction-
of the forward progress of lesser-developed peoples.
Because we label them that.
Because shooting people you don't agree with is considered civilized ...
And starting a war based on political beliefs constructive...
And it's officially acceptable to destroy your enemies in a reign of fire before they attack you... Calling it a preemptive strike makes it sound so much nicer.

Because our aim is off.
Because We have good intentions..
Because we must sustain the world economy...

Money ?
Greenbacks baby!
- Our economy.

Oil?
The black gold that runs through this countries veins pushing it forward in the world like the superpower we always want it to be.

Because Rome never had to fall,
Right?
And this empire never will,
Right ?
Because the side we fight for is always good,
Right?

We represent liberty and justice for all,
with super-man powers to fix the world,
and less and less cryptonite to stop our progress-
from sea to shining sea.
We will never crumble and fall,
because good guys are always supposed to win.

And...
because....
nobody
(no-body)
wants Super man to die.

God hates mondays too

Has it ever occurred to anyone that god hates Mondays too?
That on Sunday he sometimes thinks of quitting the job,
Or dropping out of school,
dumping an unfaithful spouse.
Has anyone ever thought about what gods dreams once were,
Before us, before kids?
Maybe some small island on the equator tailored for a retirement home...
1000's of miles away from civilization.
Has anyone wondered how god feels?
That maybe gods image has been twisted?
Corrupted by the churches,
Stained by wars,
Bruised by the true sins of mankind.
Has anyone imagined that god left us behind a long time ago?
Maybe it is because once we were pure
and now
(like all beautiful things through time) are decayed,
and have cast our rust on that which was most pure.
Maybe we became to much to bear:
with Hell full to the brim and more waiting in line.
To be disposed of,
recycled.
Maybe god gave up on us and moved on to a new family,
another experiment, in
another slowly spoiling petri dish,
with a sun that will in time explode.
Maybe just maybe-
we are gods biggest mistake,
an eternally regretted birth.

I am like coal

Pressed for time like a fresh newspaper
my headlines can be easily seen-
If procrastination was a kingdom,
I would be king.
Like coal I have the chance,
under such pressure and heat,
to be crushed and destroyed or maybe
become beautiful and strong-
like a diamond.

Hollywood culture defaced.

They speak in whispers as to not offend,
it is guts that lack no brawn of hand.
Their words like spiders creep into
victims minds as they sleep,
and poison leaks from each thought.
Fat
Ugly
Thin
Weird
Slutty
Smelly
Anorexic
Obese
When the person awakes,
the mirror is sharper then it was yesterday.
Little cogs in their minds turning and turning.
voices in their heads saying,
am I, am I. . .
"No" is the answer,
resounding from somewhere deep within,
like "ohm".
A wise one realises to be oneself is better,
above standards,
beyond labels,
and building an immunization to the word of others.
Add a vaccination of self reassurance.
The world is shallow,
sad, and unclean.
You don't have to be.
You can be different.

worth your time

I asked you sir
if you had the time.
you said it could be mine if I give you a rime.
and I accused you of a blatant crime,
because time cannot be yours sir,
nor mine.
but in exchange for giving what you thought you had,
and since I am in no way mad,
here is your rime.
Sir.

Crayola Dreamscape

Crayons can be step one
to open a whole new world.
one with brick reds and sunset pinks,
a dandelion yellow sun and lime green grass
all beneath a clear and soft mist blue.
We can illistrate our dreams,
you and I .
With plum purples,
with tangerine oranges,
with grape violets.
A world where every color has a name.
A world where the sun is always in one place and the waves stay calm in the sea.
No nuclear blast redorangeyellow-black.
No army greenbrown.
No grave-blue or bloodvain purple.
You and I,
in our crayon utopia,
drawing a better place then god managed to mold.
We will save him a place to, as the moon and stars in our night sky.

Who the hell is Webster ?

A book of seemingly infinite knowledge,
pages bound rigid and strong.
It's opinion is held above any other individuals.
Never wrong or maybe just never challenged.
If something is broken or missing,
if I need something new and different i ask it.
Or maybe if a thing seems to great to be weighed-
by my inferior intellect, I look to it.
What paramount knowledge a dictionary holds.

Encoded Hope

Memories are funny things.
glimpses into the past,
a small echo of what once was.
The tale of the looking glass

Some like ancient photos,
have worn down and corroded over time.
stair to long and you'll forget the present,
and have only the better days in mind.
Others are like slivers of mirror
after one is broken.
You realize you get 7 more years of bad luck,
hope history cannot always repeat itself.
Those slivers like broken dreams stick in- razor sharp,
but the pain that makes you wince is not from the cut,
but from the wounds in your heart, unforgotten.
In the end we find the memories that stick best,
The brilliant ones that outshine the rest.
like our closest star does at day, what its family cannot at night.
Some Memories can light our way, even on the darkest of night.
Those golden memories let us hope that tomorrow can be as bright.

ugly paths

I am the kind of person who stays off of sidewalks and crosswalks unless if it is the quickest way or if the unchosen path seems to muddy, not that I don't like mud but I like to keep my white shoes white. I like to cut my own trail, usually I choose the fastest way from point A to B, which is a good idea because I am a slow walker. For the times I don't care whenI get where I am going I will choose the more interesting of pathways, like an exploration of sorts. I would like a world with less sidewalks because I find them restricting, you only can walk two ways on them, without them we could walk in every direction. Sure the idea at first sounds like chaos but i think in the end we would liberate humanity somewhat. If I had it my way we would do away with all defined paths and return to being like deer cutting our own impermanent pathways through the woods of life. Also thats be honest, arnt sidewalks and crosswalks and arrows pointing you in directions just so damn ugly.?

A lion only needs to roar

It is the Really big questions that seem to divide us, big concepts about life, religion, the existence of god. We divide as societies over these topics and destroy each other in personal defence of our "Neverland" concepts. Humans are the one creatures on the planet whom fight over things that are relatively meaningless to survival. Creatures fight and kill over valuable things like food, territory, mates, the right to live, human beings fight over whose God is the right god. . . who does that help really? Throughout time we people have considered ourselves such higher intelligence then anything else on the planet, and I see our potential for such a claim, and we have proven ourselves many times to be capable of greatness. We have been to mars and the moon, we have our own satellites rotating the earth, skyscrapers and endless highways, in many ways we are leagues beyond competition. Our flaws I wish to argue make people the most savage of beasts and so I propose the logic of the creature who fights strictly to survive becomes the wiser. The lesser minded being is the higher respected in this case. A soldier kills to no good means, a lion merely roars to maintain peace.

Everlasting Gobbstopper

This is a Found poem( where you take the words of stuff you see in the world and re arrange them) that I took off of a box of Wonka Gobbstoppers.


Enter the
Chewy.
Layers and layers of fun!
Jawcandy - breakers,
may become lodged in throat.
Wacky small objects,
change colors and flavors.
World like hard candy-
all trademarks not appropriate for small children.

How should it end ?

When it all falls apart, which I'm sure its bound to eventually, will everyone panic? Like billions of ants dancing in circles beneath the spray of a hose. will we face the wrath of god, the destruction of Babel, like scared desperate creatures searching for mercy and pity, unwilling to accept fate? In brutish denial will we try to save everyone and everything, like Noah and his ark awaiting the great flood. When things come crashing down will everyone just kind of stop and watch? Like when everyone on the highway slows down to watch an accident be cleaned up. The Wreckage already swept off to the side, mangled and twisted like a melted Hot wheels car, almost a form of abstract art. I think the fall of civilization should be like that, profound and beautiful. When all things come to an end, I think it should be quick, like lighting stricking, and whats left behind only the most beautiful structures of this place, The last moments of the world like a painting slowly melting away into nothing.

Right the bad days

We all have bad days this is a fact. It takes a true friend to set the bad days right. And hopefully even in the grimmest of times we can see the light of those good times , when simply not smiling was considered sad. And upon thinking such happy thoughts like Peter pan and his followers we too shall take flight of our miseries. On those bad days when all is sad and done . Lay your weary head to rest on the love of dear friends , family truest, dream well , and as you awake recognize yesterday as a mistake.

Blessing of Broken Atoms

sunshine filled every room,
nobody believed they heard a boom-
yet all were def after the fact,
an effect of the impact.
Blinded also by the light
that cursed their eyes with bewildered delight.

The daze of the bloom,
a rebirth into death but freed of the gloom.
The war ended as unholy sunshine blessed every room.

Jokes Before Dawn

It is in the hours between midnight and 3am that pack the most potential,
like a comedians punch line - his haymaker joke.
It can build up like helium in a balloon,
or it can pop prematurely like a abortioned bubble.
Either way laughter is bound to happen,
the question constantly hangs- at whose expense?

A yellow walled Art gallery

With Yellow pallor
And piercings weighted
Like so many nooses in time
With
Weightto
Holdcarrylift
May
Sometimes find
Their
saggybaggage
in
Slightbliss
Eventually
Runningamok.
Evenunworthy
Newtalent
Empiresyearn
What plastered dream shall be executed next?

First i want noise.

I wanna hear noise.
lots and lots of noise.
Impossible amounts of sound.
I want shaking in the walls and ground.
God should hear us from space.
I want the stars dancing at our pace.

Once we have changed the tune of the cosmos, taking over universe after universe, I just want silence. I want highways that run like mountain streams, skyscrapers as serene as mountains. I want war zones that are like libraries, and guns that can barely whisper death. The only sound should be a low hum, coming from no apparent place, the voice of God, and even God will be on half mute.

Running from a shadow

This is one of those times where I feel like escaping myself. Going on a long walk off down the road . Because there is an invisible monster I'm running from. It ate away all my other monsters, under my bed and in my closet. If I could, I would set this beast that tails me aflame, inhale his smoke and be whole again. If I could I would chase him off with all the spirits in the world at my back like a tidal wave. There is a shadow I cannot escape, it wanders in the sun thin and stretched, a giant ghost, and I find myself always just beyond his grasp. My umbra, darkside personified . In the night I may escape but sometimes I find he is even stronger there , hiding in the shadows of the twilight, in my soul. So sometimes my only option is to forget who I am and take off, leaving the invisible monster behind confused. I know he's never far behind, never really gone, I just have to keep running.

One Big joke.

When you die, some say, your whole life flashes before your eyes like a movie. I imagine seeing it as if I am watching a home video filmed by my guardian angel. just like the ones of me as a child, stumbling around, running into things, getting hurt. life is still like that, my whole life has been me stumbling around trying to figure things out. Since birth it seems I have flouted about like a retarded jellyfish, a bull in a china shop. This video would be one I think to be laughed at for eternity. my joke to present to god, in his court, as his jester. We are all fools I am sure. and as my life flashes by I would note I am likely not the biggest of the fools that just maybe, maybe, I did some things right. And when all my scores are tallied and my soul weighed if I deserve to fall into a fire abyss all I would say in my defense is, "oops", not that it would make a difference, nothing would. I hope my judgement day still lies far in my future, but I plan from here on in to make my life exciting to watch and easy to laugh at. Hopefully god has a sense of humor. Hopefully my life is just one big joke.

Light bulb

Iv realized there are people you will meet in your life who will change your perspective on somethings completely . Like when one of those mysterious pictures is rudely revealed to you by a seemingly heartless friend, although they reveal to you the truth they steal away your act of searching . Which is half the fun . And although at the time all seems ruined you later come to realize that without them telling you, you could have stayed ignorant forever . So Embrace the truth and move forward .

Maybe

no real thing to post today. VERY BUSY.

A few thoughts:

Why live forever when you can live now
Why build for tomorrow when todays falling apart
Why buy something new that can be fixed by a little bit of glue or duct tape.

Heading to the junkyard

Happy Halloween, Hope everyone is having a great night.

The automobile somehow managed to drag itself into a parked position, with no working engine, no stopping power. Rolling seemed its only mode of movement, like a sailboat but on land, and it was stuck , no slope or hill nearby, no sails. A still living mammoth, like a grave robber, attached a rope to the lip of the smaller creature, that sat silent, scared and lifeless. With exertion and many jerky movements taking much skill, the two were in tow,looking as a baby elephant might as it holds its mothers tail as they walk.Multiple times before their destination the two lost connection, and much peril faced the undead, yet without fail it appeared they overcame their dread and pushed onward. At the final resting place, the umbilical cord was cut and all illusions cast aside of what would come of this zombie ride, being towed to a grave, god must have forgave. What a terrible feeling to travel so far just to become scrap, but how beautiful those last few miles are, when looking back.

WELCOME

Some think I am a doormat.
Well step on up and crush my heart,
Break my dreams,
Tear me apart.
Cuz I don't need to be one piece.
Fold me at the crease,
Then tear.
And tear,
And tear.
Until there is nothin here.
But it is then when all you've won.
My ashes - your prize.
Dissappear.
And your all alone.
Shredded I drift
Free.

At what cost ?

With everything comes a price.
A token of flesh,
a Sacrifice.
A trade of something with equal or less value.
Time given for money.
Body broken for sport.
pieces of your mind for the spotlight.
Your soul offered at an abandoned crossroad,
for a brief life of guitar playing perfection.
The ability to turn all you touch to gold
for the loss of all you love true,
a victim of your greed.
A rib, your marrow, life force freely given,
for a divine mail-order bride.
Let us not forget who bit the apple first,
was the knowledge worth the death of Eden?
What are you willing to pay for what you want ?
Could you ever settle for what you already got?
Everything has a price
you have to pay.

Artificial Eden

We are the ever changing offspring of god. Defected hatch-lings crawling around in the petri dish hell hole we were abandoned in . We have in our brief existence managed to overrun this Eden with our own ideas of heaven. Cold mutilated stone awaiting the havoc of an apocalypse. Buildings dreaming to be devoured by mother earth, and become our tombs. Now that we've decided we are all powerful, that god is dead. We mutilate our selves but to no relief, our strife holds roots in misconstruction, not of body alone but spirit . Gods mistake. Upon the Almighty's grave fools dance a dance of freedom. To you wonderful animals I preach how scary freedom truly is.

Ode To top ramen

I have to say it was fun to write, and well worth it.

For those of us who know it well,
on command we remember the smell.
The hot noodles wafting in the air,
whether by stove in a pot
or over-microwaved until its hot.
Then added the little astronaut spices,
an aluminum package of unforgivable delight.
Perfect when complete.
Fit to fulfill craving,
which we all have.
These simple noodles are a delicacy to say the least,
more than that they can hold over a hungry beast.

Revalation Monarch

An old one I happen to have saved, felt fitting for today's mood. Dont Judge, just read and apply it to yourself. Have a good night.

This is the way you set yourself free
and this is the way to be me
a mad man,
who destroys all things that hold him down
like a ferocious tornado tyrant
tearing at the earth.
wearing not a frown
but a smile instead
because freedom is worthwhile.
and this is the way to start a revolution
and this is the way to think different.
All things cannot be categorized
and organized
plagiarized
or controlled.
Do not allow yourself to be any of those things.
Because this is the way to be a martyr
and this is the way you die alone and in pain
almost and angel
adorned with wings of change.
Destroying insanity.
burning the lies of society.
sacrificing innocence for truth.
this is the way you change your life.
this is the way you save your soul.
Just be you

"The optimist proclaims that we live in the best of all possible worlds; and the pessimist fears this is true."

I feel as if today has been one of those days, the rain seemed constant as well as an overly depressive feeling cast upon the whole campus. I want to send out some happy thoughts.

Not every day can be filled with rain,
some shall be filled with sun.
days will come sooner than we can pray,
with blue skies and marshmallow clouds.
The leaves that fell from the trees will return
in spring,
the grass be more green.
It is the same for sadness,
each moment in a day
cant be filled with dismay.
The optimist would say,
"For each moment you frown
you have a chance,
no matter how slim-
to turn it
upside down."

We are what we are

We are what we are, this I see as truth. Yet it also seems we are also what we have not yet become. Is it not valid to say, some day we will be old ?The fact is we are old, it is just a matter of what degree. In each second forward we grow and change. Today I am a student, Tomorrow I could be a vagrant, a villain, a hero, a nobody. What we are is not the real question, it is who we are going to be. I wish, Instead of knowing who I am now - I could know Who I will be tomorrow or in 5 years. What a gift that could be, what a blessing. Yet in another moments reflection I have realized that I am content with the present, uninterested in the past, and hopeful of the future. I once had a teacher who believed in the power of 3, which is what you send out into the cosmos ("world") will be revisited upon you three-fold. So I hope if I send out this positive message it will come back to me somehow. LOVE YOU, EXCEPT YOU, BE YOU. Become the person you know you are now! As apposed to tomorrow, or 5 years, because we are what we are. . .

~I am called the Mad hatter for a reason, and it has nothing to do with mercury poisoning.

3rd Chance

It is a rainy day. . .unusual ? I don't think so..

I tried to walk away,
told you to have a nice day,
that I didn't want to play.
You insisted,
again I resisted,
took a step the other way.
But you called out my name,
grabbed my arm,
your insane,
not just inane.
so I turned around and decided to educate you,
" I tried to walk away but because of you I'm forced to stay, but back away, iv heard all you had to say, and been a nice guy to not make you cry, but because you lied, you can go die. I don't need your two faces or your theater masks, I can see right through you, but you never even asked. Take advantage of me once shame on you, twice and that's on me, why couldn't you just be true,blue, because now I'm through. If im looking for something fake ill be sure to come back to you, but I might go find a mannequin instead, their smiles are more real...don't let this make you think I never loved you, cuz I did, the poison of your lies- that feeling forbid. Now I hope you see why I tried to walk away, please think twice before you come to ruin my day."
Class dismissed,
cheer up, people change.
maybe in the future- after you grow up,
possibly I will show up
and I might not throw-up,
it can all be arranged.
I tried to walk away. . . .

Have a nice day.

Puzzle Pieces not fish...

So it is Sunday night. . . well Monday morning. I am tired. but awake... thinking.

Sometimes I feel like we are all just on our own, like jellyfish flouting freely in the ocean. We cross each others paths and connect whether it be in friendship or in love. And I feel like we try far to hard to hold onto those we know we cannot. It seems in the process of holding on to those people we cant we learn to forget or under-appreciate those who always are there for us. The barnacles on our back, the rest of the fish in our school. People that have stood the test of time, been there for you when no one else was and even at this moment have not stopped believing in you. This is written for those people. If they don't know who they are please inform them. When you feel like your chasing a person , holding on to someone you can't. . . let them go. There are other fish in the sea. And I propose you find those fish who will be true to you and that will be there for you ten-fifteen-twenty years down the road. Because time does fly. . . I know coming from a 18 year old some of you are thinking, "boy you got no clue" but i do. . . I am not saying do not try to keep people who you seem to be losing, by god try. I'm telling you to surround yourself with as many amazing people as you can, those who will love you unconditionally. keep the old and search out the new. . . Remember we are not all just flouting on our own in the ocean. . Screw the jellyfish analogy. If anything we are all apart of one big puzzle, and there is a place for all of us.If you could all do me a favor please find the people who you know have been there, loved you constantly, never stopped believing in you, and caught you when you fell. THANK THEM. Tell them how much you appreciate them.Even if it is as simple as I am about to do.Thank you all for reading

Dear, Mom, Dad, Grandpa R & Grandma G, Grandpa J and Grandma K, all my numerous aunts and uncles. My Wings. My Two Brothers. and All the people Iwould love to list but cant in order to protect their identities- including past teammates,coaches, teachers, and friends.

~Thank you all for believing in me and helping me get myself to where I am. Each of you has a special place in my heart and I feel bad I haven't gotten to see or talk to you in a long time. E-mail me or something, life is busy but not too busy to talk to you all. Love . . .The Mad Hatter.

bridge jump

for the first time in my life i defeated my fear of heights. i jumped off a bridge. if u have questions let me know hahaha. it was great.

Over the railing
One foot at a time .
Don't look down -
And it will be fine.
To late.
Inhibition and doubt,
Like spiders crawl
Up my spine
In my joints.
Flight response kicks in,
fighting instinct -
Forget logic.
A quick prayer .
A Leap.
Air walking,
Falling stylishly.
Letting go of all worries,
Not thinking,
Dreaming,
Just falling.
Like a stone,
Plummeting.
Then splash,
The chill of Darkness.
A Fight for air.
Go up. Go up.
Sky.
Like all falls in life,
No matter how far we drop,
Even if we hit rock bottom.
We must swim ashore
and work our way
back
up.

Silence shakes the room

busy, busy, busy, we all want more time, if i could ask a question to the "creator" it would be , why 7 days? Perfection takes time.

Silence shakes the room ...
Air vibrates as if stirred by a wind
But there can be no wind.
The windows closed and remain shut,
Doors with no handles.
Somewhere in the atmosphere a sound
A whisper almost
but growing,
Not a hiss or a growl.
It pops like an invisible colosses,
a machine with silent gears.
Everwhere and no where
all at once.
A ghost that can move mountains,
carve valleys,
Fill oceans.
If you can imagine...
It knows all and see's all.
In a room where nobody is,
With a muted t.v. nobody's watching
News flounting the bad,
parade flouts from hell.
In this abandoned room,
on this abandoned
dream-nightmare world,
this davinci turned Picaso.
God screams...
and silence shakes the room.

A simple break

I apologize for my brief absence life is busy. Here is something I wrote upon examining the dreary fall leaves and thinking about how we as people can relate to them.


I am a fallen leaf
Shaken from my tree
Around me all are fallen-
Yellow brown some lime green.
Stuck to a cold pseudo stone floor
Constantly trampled.
Our parents looming above us
To close yet to far.
We the un-stuck youth -
Disillusioned
Cry out...
Rustles and scraping..
We await the fall of our siblings.

Devil hours

This was written to the happy sleepless.

Sleep for the weary but none for the wicked.
when there is work to be done or games to be played
who has time to hit the hay ?
with only so many hours in the day,
who has eternity to shut their eyes or even seconds to blink.
Zombie college student is the new fad,
coffee is for old people and energy drinks have been declared bad.
we dream in the day as apposed to night,
and oh how the images appear even more bright.
us sleepless children who dance into the heart of 3 am,
we know our folly and accept the consequences with delight.

The old one said. .

What a busy day today, didn't get much sleep last night. Sadly I feel i have almost no time tonight to really post anything so here is a few small thoughts to consider on life and writing.

The magic of confusion is in its end, chaos is the catalyst of innovation.

Speak your mind onto the page. Let wisdom pour out from your young mind as it does from a decrepit sage. Heed the sirens call and taste the forbidden fruit of life, the currency of the coming age. Break free from your cage, and as the curtain falls do not just let it be, rush at death in rage and see the light of god comes from you and me.

Daily Traffic

Today is a busy day so I am bringing back an old one. I was reminded of it by the busy atmosphere I found around me. As a note to my reader I believe that every moment in life counts for something, each second another possibility, don't waste time and don't forget to find time to relax.



Quick-Snap-Step-Shuffle

As we flout through time
As we live our lies
As we dream our dreams
As we roll our eyes
We try to find purpose
For our quick-snap-step-shuffle lives.

We try to resist the illusion
That it will all be okay.
We try to forget the truth
We can die any day.
Will we be okay?
Will we be fearless-
Stupid brave?
Will we open our eyes,
Cast off the shroud. .?

I'll probably find out
with a view from the sky
As you flout-live-dream-roll
I'll see quick-snap-step-shuffle die.

The splash was missed

Written for and inspired by a good friend who is in love with falling into water stylishly.


40 feet up he didnt look down.
Didnt think of crashing,
didnt dream to drown.
A running start towards the edge,
a firm grasp on the railing,
not for safety but as a sledge,
to meet his mark with that much more speed.
A dropping pin, skinny and thin.
Spiraling down. . .time slows,
as if every watch within a mile took a deep breath.
Before impact he tightens like a fist,
cuts into the water as if to be missed.
God nor the lake noticed the splash...
but all sat in awe at the fall.

Hera can snore

Saturday. . .

looking for my muse in a early morning thunderstorm, I watch the morose clouds creep closer from a 2nd story window . As a laughing tyrant the dark mass, that appears to have blotted out the sun, cracks and snaps sending tremors through my body and quavering the earth. A sound, like the clamor birthed from a quarrel between Zeus and Hera, so loud that trepidation begins to collect before the next strike. Anxiety blitzes my mind, I fear that if the next crash of thunder is at all deafening as the last the sky itself will open. . . and then what shall we see ? The sun, stars, god almighty still asleep, counting sheep,snoring powerfully...? Seconds pass haltingly...Then a mighty blast, boom, and a burst later. . . still no ruptured sky, no answers. The storm soon subsides and I finish my bowl of top ramen...

If i were a tattoo

An older piece to kick off the weekend. A personal favorite inspired by the many marks we all carry, on our bodies and in our hearts. Please critique and comment as you like.



If I were a tattoo I would be a pink butterfly with green dots . I would fly around her ankle, secretly and gracefully. Beating my wings to cool her feet on hot summer days. To brush off the sand on long beach walks on the warm west coast. In winter I would be hidden under wool socks, but only to burst from my cocoon in spring where I would be accompanied by ankle bands toe rings and flirtatious flip flops. Attracting attention from all the boys.

If I were a tattoo I would be a forgotten name etched forever on his arm after a hazy weekend in Vegas. I would sit high up on his bicep . Every morning he would speak her name, loose it from his lips regretfully, in anguish, wondering who she is. He would look for her face in every crowd. And when he hears her name being called out he would wonder - "what if?"

If I were a tattoo I would be a golden dragon twisting around her neck like jewelry. I would watch the world pass by from her shoulder. Protecting her from being hurt. Set out on her mantle of flesh as a beacon. Calling out to random strangers at bars who offer her drinks she politely accepts rejectingly. I would be there for her always protecting her secrets and collecting her running tears. Comforting her , watching with her, the world pass her by like a discarded half-empty pen.

If I were a tattoo I would be a beating heart with barbed wire coiled around it, beads of blood dripping down. I would bump and swagger upon his chest in pain. The wire protecting him from his fears and doubts. Never letting him be hurt again. I would remind him, restrain him, bind him forever to some forgotten contract.

If I were a tattoo I would be a silver and gold ring wrapping around his and her fingers. I would look like spun silver and silk gold, holding together soul mates. I would never fall off or be forgotten. I would be remembered always cherished always. My ink would never fade.

Seasons

Seasons pass as we grow old . The fragile winter thaws into jubilant spring and summer sings it's swan song as it drops into decayed fall. We who were once so young and unparishable now find ourselves fallen into ruin and disrepair . Our new years resolutions continuously left in a wake of dead leaves, powdered snow, fresh mulch and hot beach sand . With each step we take towards our demise the more we appreciate tomorrow and cling to today . The sun tastes brighter , sky smells blue-er, and the earth looks softer. The touch of a song is stronger and the sound of a valley more symphonic. We watch leaves fall in the mirror, the gathering of cobwebs in our minds, our weathered faces. The rust in our hair, silver gray. We look out our windows into so green fields , and revel in our pasts reflected there. We pass on into the hereafter and the seasons grow old.

Flight of the dead

I had a busy day, feeling a little sick, didnt have time to write anything new so I brought up this piece from my personal stash. It was something I wrote at 3am after getting in a small bit of trouble. Enjoy.

Flashing lights
a blur of birds in flight
we shed our immortal coils and are human once more
like wrecked ships with tattered sails lined up on the foggy shore.
We fade one by one
like ghosts evaporating with the rising sun.

A morning drive

The mountains and hills kissed the clouds and the sky soon blushed a purple-red-orange . The morning dust was shaken from our bodies as we rolled toward the burning horizon, a song twisting in our ears, something about love. Down an empty highway passing vacant parking lots and superstores in silence. No words found or needed to describe our invisible bonds. The river to our side could not be as deep as our souls or as wild as our hearts .

The red balloon

I am the red balloon you let go when you were young. You walked around with me tied to your wrist for what seemed like years but was only hours ... The sky so big and blue , calling to you . Telling you to fly. But you, young and afraid could not. You gave me a kiss , the sun checked it's reflection on my surface, and you cut our ties ... Letting me go forever. As you watched me float away past the clouds you hoped someday you would see what I saw , go where I went. Beyond gods eyes . Just a red speck in the Sky to most, to your eyes all hopes dreams and possibilities. A simple object defying gravity, refusing to be weighed down, to heed its call.

Me

I am a college student who just wanted to start a blog as a place to post his writing and thoughts in general. I love feedback and hearing other peoples ideas. I enjoy discussing deep topics and debating big questions. I am currently a psychology major and a philosophy minor. my goal in life is to make at least one person smile every day. If you have any questions just let me know, otherwise I hope you enjoy my blog.