ryyan
American
There is no life without love. Therefore I want to love hard. I want unabashed passion for everything I do. I want to dream big, but then live even bigger. I want my actions to follow my words, and my words to follow my heart. I want to fill my life with simple pleasures - tea, folk music, cardigans, reading, indie films, And I want to share these pleasures with the simple people I call my friends. I want to travel the world and soak the culture into my skin. I want to be a whistleblower for peace. I want to use my rights to stand up for the rights of others. I want callused hands, and dirty nails to show that I'm alive. I want to do everything I do in the name of love so that when I come to die, I won't discover that I had not lived. Because I've realized that to truly live is to truly love.
When I grow old, I hope I have wooden bones
that chip with a sculptors chisel and decompose
into the same soil as the dirt underneath my nails.
When I grow old, I hope I've found my green thumb,
and haven't forgotten Eden's hum, to have a garden to
drink coffee in.
When I grow old, I hope I still smoke tobacco from a pipe,
and read by candlelight, I hope I look back on life
and feel at peace when I go to bed at night.
When I grow old, I hope I find company in a woman with
grey hair whose somber, but bright eyes still stare at the Robins through the morning sun's glare. I hope she hasn't forgotten
how to smile when I'm being senile. And her joyous laugh still resonates deep in her stomach.
I hope we talk about the weather, how last winter was
better, and that we grieve well growing old together.
When I grow old, I hope the young ones will take my
mundane advice, and even if they find it trite,
pretend that it's wise.
I hope I have granddaughters and sons who'll be
just as excited for the sunrise as I, sharing the same
childish wonder for dawn's light sky.
When I grow old, I hope I still hope,
and haven't sunken into the stodgy bitterness that
plagues old men,
but still remain with fiery kind eyes that yearn
to turn earth into God's garden again.
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 2:10 PM UTC
Dark dreary days deepen depressed minds,
but light lifts loneliness
as the winter sun shines.
Warmth withers winter's wilting chill,
a feeling felt melting the marrow of your bones.
survival is a contest of will.
Desire suppressed.
Hibernate,
wait,
and hope for winter sun to show her face.
Oct 22, 2016
Oct 22, 2016 at 5:51 PM UTC
It’s weird to think
these intertwining 13-feet-wide sheets
of concrete connect the sheets
between which we sleep.
There is something about seeing
every boring mile
between
that proves we’re more
connected than we think.
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 1:30 AM UTC
it is raining today.
it will rain tomorrow
and every day after that until may.
my heart matches my clothes…
soggy and gross.
empty and numb
coffee can only make you feel
a little less alone.
bricks and stones
books and photos
i am chilled to the bone.
with a beanie and scarf wrapped up close.
i walk to a fork in the road,
two directions i could go
but either way i know i will be torn.
**** carpet won’t make feet feel all that warm.
i and you.
i/you.
i.
….
coffee can only make you feel
a little less alone.
Oct 14, 2012
Oct 14, 2012 at 3:00 AM UTC
117 reasons I’m going insane
117 square feet to my name.
Trapped in an enclosed room;
haven’t been this claustrophobic since I left my mother’s womb.
A wallflower to bloom soon.
It’s never been my aim to be this lame,
but reality and aims aren’t always the same…
Aug 17, 2012
Aug 17, 2012 at 2:51 AM UTC
you give me mountains
and I’ll ask for the sea,
I know a heaven exists…
on the coastline in between
give me the trees. give me the waves.
let me breathe in that sweet escape.
I just need to get away
love rain i want to runaway.
headin west gotta catch the train.
smelt like shallow waves.
like the kissing ghosts in our veins.
constant state of flux i hate change.
happiness hides within our brains.
wirling thoughts like tides and waves
like old times in a new place
Jun 14, 2012
Jun 14, 2012 at 5:54 PM UTC
I either smell like coffee or rain.
a cat in a chair.
I sit and I stare
with reading glasses drinking champagne.
a beat up book
with a marked up page.
expensive tastes that mellow out with age.
I feel like I have wooden bones
that itch with a wanderlust to see remnant stones.
i am chopped down.
cut off.
lost roots that never grew.
what **** do I even want?
I don’t know if I ever knew…
I burn with a desire
something that burns in my blood.
but I can’t seem to find it?
a fire put out with a flood.
was it a dream to inspire?
or something to love?
what can give fire a different hue?
a longing for travel?
I don’t know if I ever knew….
May 9, 2012
May 9, 2012 at 12:38 AM UTC
I was a dreamer when I was young.
I was looking but I never found the one.
So I gave up on love sometime ago.
...and I grew complacent with being alone.
I ran into you twice in two days.
It had been so long I didn't know what to say.
I wanted to hide or run away.
You were the predator; I was the prey.
Because I don't know what to do.
When I'm around you....
I became so numb when you left me.
You found another boy while I was across the sea.
Is destiny trying to play a joke on us?
Making our paths cross again just for fun.
But now my love is through..
because I'd rather be alone than with you.
I just want to be left alone as I age.
Let my hermit habits develop as I grey.
I just want to go my own way.
Let my hermit habits develop as I grey.
Dec 6, 2011
Dec 6, 2011 at 10:43 AM UTC
Once upon a time.
In a land far far away.
Their existed a rhyme,
About the greatest game ever played.
This is the said rhyme
preserved from the acclaim the game has gained.
Passed on to generations about the game at it’s prime.
A game that should be reclaimed from the fame its gained at the present time.
This game came from the brain of a person
who aimed to have the time of his life.
Town ball was for all. In any season: spring, summer, winter, or fall.
Town ball was a ball for all: no despair, grief, or strife, could spawn.
The rules were simple
Hit ball: bases touch all.
Teams were never full.
And the field could sprawl.
Everything was in play just like everyone could play.
No obstacle was in the way, no direction out of play.
Yet, according to the natural law of capitalistic America,
An evolution began to make money.
**** you Jean-Baptiste Pierre Antoine de Monet!!
You may have nothing to do with baseball,
But you spawned the evilest idea of them all.
That evolution is caused by natural law,
and the evolution of baseball is the downfall of all that is America.
Baseball was at one time a game of fun;
good times shared with one another under the sun.
Eventually they agreed to decree the official rules,
And it was not Abner Doubleday who would have the last say in history,
for that story is a myth that we should flee from like fools.
Instead it was Alexander Cartwright who penned the knickerbocker rules.
These rules spread to the rest of the clubs,
and eventually it was coined the New York game.
No longer could anyone play but only the ones who could slug.
If you wanted to win, it would be a sin,
to put in the has been who brought the game shame.
This game spread during the civil war.
In down time to escape they played for fun instead of being bored.
The game spread like never before,
and soon the game covered the entire eastern shore.
The N.A.A.B.B.P was formed and by 1867 four hundred teams were born,
and in 1870 the Chicago Cubs actually won!
They actually were good before 1908,
heck some people might even say they were great.
I don’t mean to taint their slate or bait your hate.
I just wish to point out that its been some time since that date,
and you Cub fans still must await.
Meanwhile these gentleman clubs would compete in the heat,
for they wanted to prove they were the ones to beat.
Yet promoters wanted money so they charged the food you eat.
Then they fenced in the meet.
No longer could you watch the teams compete from the street.
If you wanted to know who would defeat you must enter with a receipt
to show that you payed for your seat.
There you would meet, eat, and greet,
and keep track of the game on your score sheet
Eventually the wood frames turned to concrete
in order to hold more people inside their games.
And the players started to earn fame.
And eventually everyone knew their name.
No longer was the game a game for games sake,
instead it was meant to entertain the fame-craved.
All that matter was the money made at the gate,
and since then the game has never been the same.
Before players would score more and their would be less of a bore.
Fielders caught with their fingers the stingers thrown,
but for catchers that was absurd.
Before, fans would abhor to the idea of a fielder with a glove adorned,
but eventually the planted seed, grew steadily, and the fielders glove was born.
At first their was no web extended between the finger and thumb.
Because that would make it so easy to catch it would be just dumb.
Yet, somehow the web spread and eventually it won.
Now any *** could catch between finger and thumb
and the hand would not become numb.
This lead the dead ball era dread at the start of nineteen hundred.
And ego went to Owen Wilson’s head as he lead the league with triples.
Thirty six triples the record was set
and will never be broken it has been said.
But instead its embed into the unread
record book for others to go ahead and try to break with dread.
There were several reasons that lead to the dead ball.
First of all, the same ball was used until it started to unravel.
Second, was that you would draw a strike for every foul ball,
And lastly was the spit ball which would dance to any squall.
All these reasons made the pitchers un-hittable.
And batters seeing their batting average fall
would take a bar crawl and bawl.
But then a savior came to us all.
This man hit the ball so far that it would fall somewhere past Senegal.
The claims were esteemed that this man was best of them all.
Yet, he was traded for money to fund a curtain call.
This man’s name was George “the Babe” Herman Ruth.
A pitcher turned outfielder because he was a great hitter is the truth.
The great bambino or Sultan of Swat,
nothing could stop him when he was hot.
And he hit the dead ball era out of the park and it was forever lost.
He had more home run’s as an individual, than any team,
Except for the Phillies who were good it seems.
Babe was the hit man
Pitcher he was no longer
The same change came
With this emphasis:
Babe Ruth symbolized what was
the rest of the game.
They said pitch no more.
Sluggers are what fans adore
outfields became small.
Power was the talk
Every team must have a guy
who hits with power.
George “babe” Herman Ruth
and Lou Gehrig, the Yankee’s
became the very best.
Then the depression came and rained on the parade of the baseball game.
Yet, families with radio’s would listen to the games as a sort of hope.
To escape from the world that they known.
To escape to a game that reminded them of better days.
Then WWII came and stole away the players.
Baseball’s talent level was now in multiple layers.
and because of lack of talent Ted Williams batted over .400 percent
and Joe Dimaggio hit the ball again and again.
for 56 consecutive games he hit the ball back to where it was sent.
Yet, eventually the players would return and baseball would mend.
But not before the ladies got their own league.
and men it did intrigue.
Is this for real?
Or a joke?
They would laugh.
Then they would choke.
When they saw that this wasn’t just an act.
The girls continued,
“Everyone used to be able to play the good old town ball game!
“This is no longer town ball,” the men said, “the present game is not the same,
Instead its now played for money and fame.”
Oh how the good old days always change.
“Give us money” the women exclaimed,
“We’ll take your fortune we’ll take your fame!”
Some men said, “you complain! Its not the same,
you have to be good to play this game,
you can have your separate league if you need,
But this game of fame is only for white men of age!”
Oh how problems never change
Instead they always stay the same.
Yet, it wouldn’t be long
Before the trumpet would sing its song.
That segregation would possibly end.
Not for women but for African Americans.
Segregation had always gone on.
***** leagues rose up, but finally segregation’s time was gone
due to a man named Jackie Robinson.
And in 1947 he broke through with the Brooklyn Dodgers.
Because his team was convinced they’d make more money by Lou Durocher
Yet it came with its troubles because Not everyone on the team was happy
And some fans were just down right ******
Some teams such as our beloved St.Louis Cardinals even threatened to strike.
They were not going to play if Jackie played because they had that much dislike.
But Jackie and the Dodgers pushed through all the hate that spewed.
Other players, managers, and fans were rude, crude and would start feuds.
Then they would brood every time Jackie’s name the roster would include.
But after awhile people would conclude that he was actually very good.
And after review others would start to include rather than seclude,
But this integration was long over due.
30 years till segregation could be totally subdued.
The lessons we learn are hard ones that is true.
And it takes awhile for an entire nations perspective to take a different mood.
Now with baseball integrated the game be televised.
This allows the money in the game to rise.
The league now expands west;
New markets they must test.
But hey! the players want some of this.
They want to start a free agency.
But this is the last thing the owners need!
But the players want to be able to move between teams.
The players want money. Oh how things never change.
But the players got what want.
They now can negotiate and the owners this does haunt.
The game now is wrapped inside this twisted shame of money.
Thats all any body wants so they find ways to scheme.
Thus steroids came to the scene.
Players now could be payed more if they played well.
This meant that to hit the ball far, big muscles they would have to build.
In order to get that edge over everyone else.
These players used steroids to get their help.
Yet that was not cool with the public
Because steroids put you at risk.
They are dangerous at best,
and the league didn’t want to run the risk.
Plus what about records that have stood the time test?
Are they going be broken now and no longer exist?
All because someone drugs themselves to have a bigger biceps and chest?
Someone please lay this all to rest!
Baseball today is such a shame.
Its boring with all of the commercial and pitcher change breaks.
Something needs to change.
Because its been turned into a sideshow.
Thats the only reason why kids even go.
To see the park, get hot dogs,
and baseballs that when put in the dark they glow.
Then when you get home.
you ask them what they remember about the game
and they say, “I don’t know”.
This game used to be interesting.
But now I find my channels flipping.
Even Golf is more fun to watch.
at least they hit that ball a lot!
Baseball should but I doubt ever will,
Get rid of all the pitchers it has to refill.
No more pitching changes; That would increase the thrill!
Maybe players could hit the ball if wasn’t coming 100 mph every throw.
and instead of pure talent pitchers had to use strategy,
of when to and not to throw
That 100mph hour fastball.
Get rid of the sideshow.
Then maybe kids would go.
Maybe then we’d go back to being enthralled.
Back when Baseball was actually Baseball.
But I doubt it will because money is what matters now.
Sideshows make money so its always going to be allowed.
But I’d like to disavow
I’d like to dropout.
I never really watched it much in the first place.
but now I know of a better game.
Oh and one final thing to say.
We should just go back to town ball.
That game sounds so much cooler than baseball.
You could really make some unique obstacles
Put in a fountain or maybe even a wall.
It just sounds like a lot of fun.
I plan to play it this summer some.
Everyone will be welcome.
And we’ll have fun under the sun.
And it won’t really matter who will win.
Because its about having fun, building character,
and growing relationships
The end.
May 6, 2011
May 6, 2011 at 10:32 AM UTC
I just want to breathe In a wiff,
of that crisp morning mountain air.
Sink my teeth into the taste of life,
and filter the smoke out of my lung.
I have felt my foundation shift,
but I guess I’ve never really cared...
So lets hit this road tonight.
Taking another step into the horizon.
The funny thing about asking questions
is that you never know the answer.
Like why the hell are we floating?
Yet bound to this earthly ground?
Well I guess I’ve learned my lesson:
gravity is just a cancer.
I want to fly into the horizon,
and not be stuck six feet underground.
My world is spinning.
But I don’t feel it move.
you might think that I’m crazy,
but yours is spinning too...
and death is only a beginning.
a pathway to some other life.
and freedom comes when were living,
as if we’re wanting to die.
Have you ever felt like you living?
But we’re really just in a dream?
Have you ever felt like you were moving?
But really stuck swimming upstream?
Life is a mess at best.
Perfection’s just a mythic story told aloud.
Yet it’s an honorable quest I guess,
But I need some wings to lift me off this ground.
May 6, 2011
May 6, 2011 at 10:16 AM UTC