Thursday, 4 February 2016

Of Freedom and Conformity

i know of a place
behind the skyscrapers
beyond the billboards

here lies luxury
between mountains
over hills

a life much different 
a pop-up book of contentment
hidden behind their promises

it is between the pages
under the rubber tires
clenching onto freedom

yet here i stay
like a clockwork soldier
under a blue collar boot

King For a Day















If I were in charge of the world
I'd cancel out the blur of words.
I'd make us speak in rhythm,
Communicate with our emotion,
And think from our hearts.

If I were in charge of the world
There'd be no blood shed or conflict.
A paradise with fountains
And free nachos.

If I were in charge of the world 
You wouldn't have hate.
You wouldn't have disease.
You wouldn't have poverty.
Or "it's a dog eat dog world."
You wouldn't even have sadness.

If I were in charge of the world
A kind letter, a handshake, a hug, 
Or even a smile would be a vegetable.
All altercations would be tickle fights.
And a person who sometimes forgot to say please,
And sometimes forgot to cover their mouth when they sneeze,
Would still be allowed to be
In charge of the world.

Friday, 29 January 2016

Maya Angelou and Matters Expressly Related

Maya Angelou is one of the most inspirational minds of all time. She has held as prestigious positions as a right hand to Martin Luther King Jr. and an idol to the likes of success such as Oprah Winfrey. Her life is a series of events that molded a thought process that above all sees the beautiful potential of the world it inhabits. One of her beliefs was the prominence of dreams in creativity. She believed that one could learn everything they need to know about themselves or other people from their dreams. I think this is very much the truth. Our conscious mind blurs the feelings of its subconscious counterpart quite often in resolving decisions and making analyses. We focus on moments as opposed to situations, words as opposed to actions, favoring flattery over fallacy. I believe our dreams are a medium for interpretation of the thoughts and ideals too murky for our conscious minds to fully comprehend. Such dreams of my own ring true to this. The time that I fought a herd of zombies in a dream and the next day I got into a heated debate with a group of Republicans. On a more serious note, I have resolved conflicts and emotions based off what I’ve seen in my dreams. Call it superstition if you’d like but it at least makes life more interesting.
Maya also had several beliefs on interpretation, addressing perceptions, and relaying information. She said that, “there’s a world of difference between truth and fact.” We live in a society that attempts to make synonymous such words as these. What this quote means to me is rather simple; a fact is a statistics or a statement while the truth is something so much deeper. A fact about America is that we have a Capitalist society. A truth about America is that we have become greedy and selfish and any concept of social equality is dying faster than a bonfire in May. A fact is nigh meaningless while a truth has meaning. A fact is just there while a truth is a perception of facts I suppose. To me this is very important. Facts impact the truths and it is the truths that we react to.
Maya has also been quoted saying that writing is no easy task. This may come off as just short of comedy for some, but I do believe that there is a difficulty in the trade. Writing is the recording of thoughts and feeling and the forging of valiant heroes or cunning heroines. It is the configuration of worlds and fastening the strings on an omnipresent marionette. Every word we right provides another word to be interpreted by those we thrust it upon. Ideals and thought processes transcend anything we could put a hold on and that is exactly what writing is all about. We convey glimpses of worlds and sections of lifetimes. No author can cover every thought or every action in the life of a character, but by golly, we try.
Maya Angelou was pure in intention. She believed that people could be just as beautiful as they could be beautiful and that is exceedingly important. She remarks on being told that one is incapable learning halfway through their twenties. She did not believe in this and I most definitely do not. Change is the pinnacle of human achievement. Our ability to adapt and evolve in tune with the situation we are in is the calling card of our species. With this in mind I truly believe that the racist old man down the street has the ability to love a black man as a brother. I believe that the Politician you can’t believe people keep voting for can reform his sensitivities and be more considerate. I believe that the human race is the most spontaneous and curious species on this planet. I don’t care if you are 25 or 75, change is necessary for survival and preservation of love and understanding is necessary for happiness.

Wednesday, 27 January 2016

In Living Color

  The sky was blue but the air was thick. I was never a big fan of high school parties. They always seemed to invoke bad decisions and reckless opinions. This was no different. The tables were lined with bottle after bottle of Bud Light. Now, I'm not a drinker, but I did take a few sips. I had always known that I was a lightweight.
  She was wearing a short purple sundress and vibrant lavender lipstick. Her hair was a short bob dyed black with an electric blue streak. I don't reasonably know why she stuck out to me at first. I've definitely seen more risque teenagers but there was something about her. Her face was very polite and her body was thin but lightly curved. She was smiling and laughing in a group of kids in assorted Ravens jerseys and cargo shorts. I stood by Jerrod, my best friend, watching her move. It was like watching a devoted butterfly dancing across roses lined with divinity. I knew that I had to talk to her.
  When she moved towards the drink table I took my shot with a face of pure crimson. The walk towards her seemed like it lasted a million years. The rush of the party blurred into one symphonic noise, plaguing the thoughts that try to remain whole. I saw a world of gray protruding from a singularity of color. Her face was frozen in a permanent grin as if nothing in the world could go wrong and it pushed me forward.
  Then came my silver tongue, "Uh... h-hi?"
  She noticed my platinum blonde hair first of course.
  "Hey," she said with that adorable smirk and a pure golden laugh.
  Suddenly, my face returned to its usual pink stature and I thrust forward my hand and recited my name. She returned the favor quite gently. As soon as our hands touched I could feel it. I could feel pure energy coursing through my veins. My eyes lit up and she obviously noticed due to her dropping her head and giggling into her hand. Then she looked back up into my eyes and it was like being hit by a freight train. The smile on her face warped the whole visage into one of pure beauty.
  She met me at eight o clock in the pitch black that surrounded my usual spot. She was unsettled which I was used to by now. I filled her with words of encouragement and she let loose a little bit. We went into the old abandoned strip mall and she took to screaming rather quickly. I was disappointed that I had to end it so quickly. I had hoped to enjoy her voice for a moment longer. I took her body and put it onto one of the posts that the other ones sat on. Her smile is an excellent addition to my collection. 

Tuesday, 26 January 2016

The Logistics of Love

I sat in deafening quiet,
Numbers and symbols bouncing through my brain.
I never found math to be entertaining.
That's when Peter showed up.

Peter the plus sign was just an average guy
With a mean crush on Mully the multiplication sign.
He had never quite added up to anything in comparison.
Their relationship can be summed up with a lot of awkward times.




Peter was reduced to marrying Sally the subtraction sign.
Their combination made an odd couple.
Positives and negatives don't always go together though,
They divorced and divided the properties up evenly.

Peter then reflected upon Dani the division sign.
She knew his name so that was a plus.
Dani was just as two dimensional however.
Peter decided it was best to take her out of the equation.

Peter felt as though he was on a decline.
He had never factored in all the difficulties of life.
He pictured a point in his life where he was happy.
He envisioned a bubbling fountain with a beautiful number upon it.

This girl turned out to only be imaginary.
Peter figured life would even out.
He decided that women equal sadness.
They just cause too many problems.

Jaded Vengeance

"Take me to the Green Gum Tree!", she yells,
Full of the vigor that toddlers are so well accustomed.
These were the last words I heard 
Before my daughter was stolen from me.

They swiped her from our rural green lawn,
Moving her in a silence that is still ringing in my ears.
Five years go by.
They find her in a truck stop dumpster.














She was bruised and barely breathing.
On her right thigh was the brand of a clever mantis.
It took some time but I unraveled the truth.
I then stood as stiff as a saguaro cactus.

My self-worth was eviscerated,
My daughter's life was broken,
and our lives can never be normal again.
This, Mr. Ortiz, is why you're going to die.

Royal Grape










Royal performances
Open with chaotic
Yelling and profanities.
All of the people 
Laughing at the

Games before them.
Rarely do the slaves 
Acquire their freedom.
Presently I stood,
Emotionless and broken.