Sleeping

We are
Dreaming
Relaxing
Replenishing
Winding down
Breaking
Imagining
Exploring
Refueling
Breathing
Sighing
Sle­eping.

‘Learning’

Seriously, people?
How can you expect Us
To remember the first fifty digits of Pi
The theory stating the circumference
Of a circle embedded in a square
Divided by this
Or that
Times the velocity of E=MC something?
I don’t remember
Nor care
Of the event that changed the history
Of the coffee bean
Or how to throw a lacrosse ball.
We know you don’t recall either
So let’s get real here.
Teach me something worthwhile.

Place your right hand
Over your left breast.
Don’t you feel that?
It’s called Purpose.

It beats every second
To keep you alive and well for a reason;
A purpose.

The reason may not be clear right now.
In fact, mud may be clearer.
But, the dirt has to settle from
The slippery water
Eventually.

You were born
To live.

Don’t cut the purpose short.
Let it go out on its own
When it is time.

So live.

When I am alone, I feel I am as unreachable as the inky bottom of the ocean.
When I am praised, I glow inside and out with rosy pink satisfaction.
When I am depressed, I believe that only I can pull myself up from the dark blue swirls in my mind.
When I am loved, the best of me comes out and waves a bright, sunny hello.
When I am angry, I cannot suppress a cloud of black and red rage from emerging.
When I am me, I do not know what I can create or destruct.
I do not know why I can vary so differently,
As the shades of a multi-hued rainbow,
But I am who I am.

My hand doesn’t seem to want to hold a pencil;
My brain is having trouble focusing.
What is this?
Multiple choice?
Worksheets?
Essays and Assignments?
Woah, wait a second
I can’t handle this algebra equation
And forget about a ‘great thesis’!
Give me a second to comprehend!
Can we please skip all the introductory class rules?
I wont spit gum in your class
Or write on all the desks.
I already know where to turn my paper in, and yes,
I will sharpen my pencil whenever I feel like it.
I’m bored already, I want to get moving
I’m ready to learn.
Golly gee, it sure is hot in here!

The lights are too bright
The chair is too hard
The pants are too tight
You’re being too annoying
This pen hurts my hand too much
You’re never there for me
I’m not that mean.
I’m just
P
M
Sing.

When I am alone, I feel I am as unreachable as the inky bottom of the ocean.
When I am praised, I glow inside and out with rosy pink satisfaction.
When I am depressed, I believe that only I can pull myself up from the dark blue swirls in my mind.
When I am loved, the best of me comes out and waves a bright, sunny hello.
When I am angry, I cannot suppress a cloud of black and red rage from emerging.
When I am me, I do not know what I can create or destruct.
I do not know why I can vary so differently,
As the shades of a multi-hued rainbow,
But I am who I am.

Clearer than a crystal, calmer than it seems
A shimmering oasis
Of cobalt blue
And emerald green
Gazing out across the sea
The breeze carries the smell of salt
And fish
There are boats on the horizon
Gardens of coral below me.
I see the waves crashing in the bay;
Alone, alone, I am alone.
The sand is blowing away.
Crashing of breaking waves fade fast
As I realize where I am
No longer on a sailboat's mast
But holding an abandoned shell
To my ear
And dreaming of the sea.

March 19, 2012

Once filled with a writhing mollusk
Now excavated and empty
Enter at the mouth of a continually twisting cave
To the left
Curling deeper into the heart of the shell
Shining and polished from years
Of water lapping at the coating
And brushing gently against the sand
Iridescent green and blue fade into purple
Suddenly
The shell’s twisting cavity
Ends

Mein Kampf

‘Der Führer’
Heaves mothers’ children into the fires of hell, like sacks of flour
Throughout travels between devastating concentration camp
Day after day,

Hour upon hour,
Minute by minute.
All of this, to rid the population of ‘imperfect beings’….One of which
He is included.
Breaking backs, bones, and spirits
With each familial separation, stinging like a whip.
Incinerating carcass after carcass, to harvest golden teeth
And demolish the bodies of God’s children.

I don’t understand….
What is this for?
For not meeting the disgusting standards
Of a **** wolf.
I will never understand.
Das ist mein kampf.
(3-16-12)

Why Life Is Worth Living
March 29, 2012


easter egg hunting                          looking up and seeing the sky
                              opening your eyes underwater                       burning candles
    drinking water when you’re thirsty               watching the snow fall
                           seeing fireworks explode                                  laying in bed
dipping your toes into a river                   intertwining your fingers with another’s
       feeling the sun on your skin                        painting what you imagine
singing along to songs         having bonfires                  sitting by a fireplace
                   riding horses in the fall                 chocolate milk
        watching lightning split the sky                 the way you feel after workouts
fishing on a calm day                 knowing you are worth something
                                  swimming in the summer                  watching the sun rise
backrubs            that ‘new baby smell’                    smiling
      proving to others that you can do anything                     having family dinners
falling hopelessly in love                        skipping rocks
                    helping others who need you         laying with the one you love
writing because you want to                     sipping hot cocoa in the winter
                               feeling strong                      capturing time through photographs
holding a new baby                breathing after it rains                trampolines
          playing sports          expressing yourself           building things
listening to the ‘peepers’ chirp                                              learning every day
creating new life                   making dinner for fun           planting a garden
                 seeing old friends       staying up late reading        feeling accomplished
suddenly understanding a math problem            experimenting
              falling asleep without any time between when you climb in and sleeping
          seeing your family                   picking daisies
getting sand between your toes                    devoting yourself to something you <3
                                   saving lives                               hearing the melody of a piano            
   sharpening a pencil because you’ve worn it down creating something beautiful
              realizing life is better than in the movies                          running
making shapes with sparklers                               curling up in a blanket
                          movie nights                   cutting the grass          observing the stars
thanksgiving dinners                ice cream on a hot summer day            popsicles

Jack
A loving and faithful companion

It was upsetting to see you lay around for days
Drinking nothing
Eating nothing
And sleeping little
But it was a lot worse when we found out why.
You had a volleyball-sized tumor on your tummy
And it ate you inside out.
They got it removed, and you were fine.
But suddenly
Cancer struck again
And you became riddled with tumors
Like Swiss cheese.
But I didn’t even know.
I wasn’t there for you, to embrace you when you came to me
After all those times.
I came home one day
And Dad brought me a box
With a paw engraved on top.
He said, “This is Jack now.”
We both began to sniffle.
“We had to put him down. His cancer came back.”
Sniffle.
“He shook my hand with his paw before we let him go. We took him to the beach with the other dogs the day before, and he was the only one who went in.”
Sniffle.
“He went in up to his chest. All by himself.”
Sniffle.
“No one lays on his bed anymore. The other animals will sniff it and walk away. They don’t know what to do without him.”
I had to leave the room
And muffle my sobs with a hand towel.
I can’t ever scratch his ears again.
The red-haired puppy that jumped into my lap and licked my face
Is a ghost now.
A memory.
You were only six, Jack
I hope you’re happy in doggy heaven
With a peanut butter filled Kong chew toy.

The Life of a Work of Art

The life of a work of art
Begins with an idea,
Just like any mother conceives the idea
Of new life inside her swelling tummy.
Conception; the piece is put together in one’s mind
Detail by detail, until it is formed enough to meet its body; a canvas.
Through rough pencil outlines,
The art is born
From the first touch of pencil to canvas.
The soul and body of the art become welded together.
But, life has begun since the moment of conception.
The piece is fragile and easily destructible;
A newborn.
It must be touched gently, as its lines grow darker and thicker
And the picture begins to change.
An infant, the general outlines are visible.
As a toddler, the artwork is growing from a skeletal sketch
To a generally-shaded drawing.
A child, the piece is maturing quickly.
Paint brush strokes define basic colors and shapes.
A pubescent teen, the art is nearly finished.
Matted, it becomes a young adult.
Signed, framed, and mounted,
The photo is an adult.
It remains on its mount ‘til the paint cracks and yellows
And deceases after a natural disaster
Extinguishes the life of a work of art.

I never fell down some rabbit-hole;
Maybe I was born in one.
Always ‘different’ than the others
Only different because
I’m naturally beautiful
I don’t need three pounds of makeup to cover my face.
Only different because
I’m much brighter than what is average for them.
Only different because
I don’t battle for attention or popularity.
I’m different because
I care about the things
Most people take for granted.

Everyone worries about
What the others think
When I could really care less.
We share this world,
But that doesn’t mean I automatically have to play
By their rules.
I’d rather be different,
I call it unique.
I’d rather look at the patterns on leaves
Than ogle at a video game or phone screen all day.
I’d rather be myself
Than pretend to blend in;
I only have so much time on this planet,
In this lifetime.

Yet, I’m still similar.
I’m not sure if this is a good thing.

Fireworks exploding
Ripping paper
Turning pages in a book
The bass of a rap beat through a great sound system
A seagull’s cry
The accelerating engine of a car
Water hitting pavement
Clapping
Swishing water through your teeth
Flipping the pages of a book quickly
Gasping

I fear the man who cannot feel compassion and love.
I hate when I cannot keep myself from being angry.
I hope to God I can live my life happily, and forgive easily.
I love when the snow glitters and the waves sparkle in the sunlight.
I love how colors of paint swirl together when I touch them with a paintbrush.
     I hope for the sake of humanity that we can all learn to benefit from each other.
I hate watching sad movies and hearing depressing stories.
I fear happiness will evade me; I need to stop looking for it
And let it find me.

Pencil in hand,
I am ready.
Why don’t words move my hand?
Blank sheet after blank sheet
Invites me to cover them with my scrawling handwriting.
Waiting, waiting….still waiting.
Words finally come
And erupt
In a blur of ink.
The black notebook became my best friend.
I took it everywhere.
The paper and pen became my cape and crown,
Making me
Ruler and hero.

Letter to God

Dear God,
I have been crying a lot lately.
I don’t know why
But I’d like to make some changes in my life.
I’d like to be happy, God.
I know I don’t come to you for much,
But I feel like there’s no other way out of this overwhelming depression
I feel every day.
I don’t want to push others away anymore;
I want to do things for myself and others
Without feeling like I’m being rushed into growing up.
I don’t know what the plan is, God,
Or however they refer to life as
But we need to get on it.
I know you won’t answer,
But I’d like to know why you took Jack.
I hope he’s happy up there. We really miss him.

Please do not take anyone else. Don’t take my daddy from me.
I need him more than ever right now.
Help him to stop smoking. He can’t use cigarettes as a stress crutch anymore.
Take care of Mom and Grandma too.
They’re doing the best they can.
Don’t let anything hurt them. If you ever sent me angels, they must be it.
Bring Aunt Katie and Uncle Brandon a healthy baby girl, like they’ve been wanting.
I want to see my baby brother, God.
I don’t understand why you’ve kept him from me. He’s turning seven in a week.
I haven’t seen him for months.

I’m sorry for saying I didn’t believe in you, God.
I don’t know if you can hear me up there,
But I ‘m sorry I haven’t come to you before, and I ‘m sorry for avoiding you.
I hope you can hear me,
Because I’ve decided I don’t feel worthless anymore. I want to live, not die.
You’ve helped me to realize that even if I’m alone,
I can get through life. Thank you
Thank you for gifting me in art and literature, sports and mathematics.
I promise I’ll do better.
Oh, and God? Please help me to overcome my issues with Aaron.
He’s my best friend, and I love him to death.
I could never part with him. I don’t care if we’re ‘too young’.
Please, let us show them we were right, that he is the one.
Don’t take him from me, like Jenny was taken from Forrest Gump.
I watched that movie today, and it made me cry.
You know that movies never make me cry.
I would be so lost without Aaron.
If I had to die to save him, or anyone I love, I’ve decided it wouldn’t be so bad.
After all, I would get to meet you.
Lastly, God, I’m trying to be simply happy.
When I was little, as you probably know,
I asked Dad what the point of life was.
He told me that it was to be happy;
That’s not what I’ve been doing….
But I’m going to start.
If I cry from being happy, so be it. But it hasn’t happened yet.
I’m ready, God.
Take my hand, and lead me into the sun.

It’s easy for you to say
When you’re not the one suffering a loss.
Why don’t you people mind your own business
And take your own advice?
You know nothing of my struggle,
So just stay out of it.


Life looks different
When you’re the book whose pages are ripped out.
Your pages aren’t placed out of order
And continually mixed together.
Scotch tape and words can hold a book together,
But it’s not the same as when the book could keep itself straight.


I know you are laughing
And living the good life
Because this time,
You’re glad it wasn’t you
Who was shot down like a bird
Hit by a boulder.


I don’t need this right now,
Or any time, thank you.
Adieu.

Have you ever spoken a word aloud
That you didn’t know the meaning of?
Didn’t you wonder at the strange noises rolling off your tongue?
Did you question the point of all those gobbledygook syllables?

Life is like those words.

I do not know the meaning of it.
I wonder at the strange games daily life asks me to join in playing.
I question the point of all the nonsense
And dread slouching from out of my inviting bed each morning.
Day upon day, a terrible occurrence
Occurs,
Shattering my confidence like a stone thrown through an icy window pane.
I come home
And gravity forces me to kneel
As the day’s events overcome me with a wave of fresh pain.
I cannot suppress it for another second.
My composure topples like a house of cards.
Sobs tear through my throat
And the monster of depression violently rips from my chest.
It escapes my lips, blocking all air from my lungs
And frees itself.
Cold and alone,
Depression decides he needs his host.
He stays nearby,
Descending in a dark cloud
Then wraps himself around my shoulders and neck.
The escape leaves me gasping,
Hoping it is all unreal.
My body shakes the tears down my blotchy face
Staining my cheeks with the release of broken promises,
Forgotten achievements,
And pointless dreams.

There is nowhere to turn for comfort.
I try to turn to food,
But I am already full of despair.
I try to turn to physical pain
In hope that my torn hairs and scratched skin
Will give me a “real reason” to cry.
I’m too scared to do real damage
Fearing no one will want me because of the marks.
So I leave none.
Eventually,
Exhaustion takes its toll
And I am out of tears

For the time being.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
My heart pushes on,
Although my body and mind cry out in detest.
My ribs confine it,
Like a circular room with bare, barred walls.
My own physical self was designed
To keep my heart away from the outside world.
It remains trapped by a bony cage
And shielded by ivory skin.
There are no windows
Or cracks in the shutters.
This was God’s design;
The heart is not meant to be given to another, I guess.
Only He could reveal it,
If my body were to be popped open like a locket.
No dim rays of hope-filled sunlight
Peek in through the bars of my bones.
I am to keep my heart locked away forever as I sit,
Listening to the clock keep ticking.

TRASH the picket signs.
END the fighting.
TREAT humans equally.
LET the people work.
PUT down the hoses.
SHARE the sink.
INTEGRATE the schools.
ACCEPT the facts.
BLEND black and white—
CREATE a world of equal gray tones.

I open the message
And my jaw drops open.
My hand flies to my lips
To muffle the gasp that unwillingly escapes them.
I utter, “No, no, no….”
As reality sinks in and paralyzes every rational thought inside me.
I drop my phone
And run out the door
Hoping to find you, to see you.
Panic bubbles from deep inside my chest
And a cry escapes my throat
As I feel my heart tearing itself apart over your absence.
You abandoned me.
I desperately glance down the streets
I run
And run
And run
In search of you.
You’re the big bad wolf
How come you get to hide?
I’m the little piggy
Running, searching for you without pride.
Knowing I won’t find you
I run and cry out anyways.
Alone.
A tear slips down my cheek
Life a solitary brick that keeps a dam together
And so forth plummets a waterfall
From my windows to the world.

It’s not the school part about high school I don’t like;
It’s the people.
It doesn’t matter who’s the most ‘material’ here;
No one needs two-hundred dollar boots
And a phone with a screen
Bigger than your hand.
Who cares if the most people ‘like’ you
Or if you’ve got the most contacts?
None of it means anything to me.
It surely won’t mean jack
When you all grow up and go to college.
(Or maybe you won’t, because you spent
Too much money on those boots
Your feet grew out of in three months.)

It’s not the school part about high school I don’t like;
It’s the people.
I’ll be out and away in two years,
Escaping from high school
With wings sprouted from my heels.
Right now,
They’re too weak to lift me off the ground.
Soon, I’ll take flight
And abandon ‘the best time of my life’.
You’ll see.

For now, all I can do is
Watch,
Laugh,
And shrug it off.

You’ll be nothing when it really counts.