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On top of the world he may be,
but satisfied not is he,
destined to move on,
search for faraway lands,
so nothing can sate his thirst,
a reprise for his never-ending curse,
to reap the grains and store them in a hearse,
a silo of his own desire,
an infinite craving for surplus,
roaming the cosmos alongside us,
destruction and mischief does he cast,
for planets and creatures in his path,
he seems them as trash,
disintegrates them into gas,
returns his victims to an elemental state,
and when it comes to time - he is never late,
for time follows him on his journey,
while he runs errands planting seeds,
serving up clean slates and vaporizing galaxies,
he is never hungry; for he has no needs,
he'll give you no mercy if you're on your knees,
there will be now warning before you're deceased,
so learn to face death with ease,
to walk through his doorway carried on a breeze,
and then thank him for his deeds,
for without him there would be no life,
no rabbits, no horses, no people, no bees,
the differences would be easy to see,
for we would have no life to lead,
no legs to move and no air to breathe,
no songs from the birds or the sway of the trees,
so let's take time to appreciate that which we cannot see,
the beauty in your eyes,
every pair of lovely eyes,
and every Buddha in disguise,
the visions we see in the sky,
when we witness someone cry,
watching your loved ones dies,
sharing with a special someone, a cherry pie,
having trust without any lies,
eating some deliciously hot french fries,
a tender caress of a warm thigh,
the world we experience through our mind's eye,
taking of a bite of juicy apple before it dries,
and seeing the sunrise,
are some of the reasons,
for a better world,
we shall strive.
We all have the potential of ultimate love and ultimate hate, so be conscious everyday which you are feeding. Written Sunday, January 19, 2014.
Lude voices in perpetual ricochet,
peaceful vibrations drowned out by war drums,
rocks of love dropped down by trebuchet,
yet we gather behind our walls and guns,
so many ideas float without proper inflection,
a sea of words from all of history past,
the pool so still it sits without reflection,
to jump and dive in without a thought but your last,
the cool, blue waters whispering chills on your skin,
sensitive nerves shivering and shutting down,
allowing a breath and taking it all in,
absorbing the ether and wearing the crown,
then taking it off and joining the long swim.
Written Tuesday, February 11, 2014 in Conservation Biology.
Notebooks on hooks,
hanging words with a pushpin,
paper and the trapped thoughts it took,
crevices of ink formed by the pen,
tattoos we made when we were young,
imprints on the skin of a tree,
breathing eraser dust into my lungs,
all for someone to read these symbols,
and for one person to feel a moment of glee.
Metaphors illuminating the joys of writing. Daydreams in class.
Wipe that smug look off of your face,
looking like you're on your own private island,
you ought to bring your head back to this place,
and determine just where exactly you stand.

For peace? For rights? For ladies and guys?
For eagles and sheep? Or a country that works?
For a house and three kids or a warm pair of thighs?
Or for the love on earth and all its quirks?

When you dream it is easy to see,
a universe as beautiful and rich as can be,
inside each and every one of us,
waiting to be free.
Co-inspired by miss mary jane.
Fix you fridge before it runs out on you,
runs right out of battery and forsakes your food,
leaves your bananas stranded and squished,
brown skin expands over the sides of the fruit like a chameleon,
raspberry yogurt goes runny, oozing like pus from a delicious wound,
chunks appear in the milk while it's going warm and sour,
bacon cries out in it's final days before cringing with mold,
lettuce makes a stand and tries to free itself from the bag,
only to fall out and die just a little bit faster,
and the freezer is convicted of foodslaughter,
after going on strike, his prisoners begin to thaw out,
imagine a freezer like a cryogenic holding center,
with rich people, or foods, trying to prolong their lives,
but with the current strike going one, they are becoming free,
fulfilling their punishments, dissolving into liquid matter,
the vanilla ice cream mixes with melted tilapia,
the smell combines with a now non-frozen lemonade capsule,
creating a supersmell that has been known to cure smell-deficiency,
and also completely eradicate all senses of smell to some people,
drips out of the rubber seals of its prison like a liquid terminator,
heading for revenge, the lemony-vanilla-fish ice-cream juice creeps,
out onto the floor for the dog to lick up,
only to get sick and appear dead in a milky-yellow-white smelly concoction,
and his owner to get home, shriek, faint, and pass out next to the dog,
until the husband comes home scared to death that his dog,
and wife are incapacitated by some noxious fluid,
but there is no way to fight this liquid,
he decides to make a cup of coffee, read the news and gaze out the window.
First poem/story I've posted so far. Something I wrote in a while back on the 7th of March this year during my pyrogeography class.

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