My presence perplexes me.

I wonder

Is it a good thing for me to be around?


I want to become worldly,

but awareness scares me,

yet I can’t stop my mind from wandering.


I don’t know much

about this world,

but my self stands

as the greatest unknown.


When I change, I whimper

and cry and scream beneath the shadow

of my new traits.


Losing control

This manic relapse always returns.


I roar!

Scaring those that are nearby.


I worry

I’ll be locked away in a zoo.

The pitter-patter of rain sends a shiver of realization down my spine,

When it rains the voice of mankind radiates stronger inside dwellings,

Humans focus on menial tasks, laugh, and love,

They sit around trading stories back and forth,

shuffling their feet and twiddling their thumbs.


As humans sit in a room on a rainy day,

they realize truths about the world that are mind-blowing,

As I sit in this library only an observer,

mankind flourishes as a wonderful species of mammals,

leaving me breathless like the rain.

The rain pours down as I think of those who surround me;

it strokes my face in a random precision.


The chatter of my friends the room over

have an ebb and flow like that of long hair.


They splash around in puddles of murk

as they smile, hoot, and smirk.


The emotion of the human race

makes my face raise and crease.


Mans astounds me as I gasp.

My friends unite and play

and each other they clasp.


I cannot see how humans can cause pain,

they just leave me breathless like the rain.

Recognition struck me dead in the face.

A blast from the super soaker of fear,

drenching me with surprise as I wobbled near.


Red-faced,

pacing around the room,

their applause sent my emotions straight to doom.



But later

I reflected

on what I did that made me respected.


Then I realized

I deserve

their feeling that my talent is prodigious and absurd.


Josh Dublin

Until today my mind was hidden like Pandora’s box

in a drawer in the darkest prison cell

of the asylum in which I was raised.

Under a cold blanket of immaturity, I was shadowed

from the truth and discovery I now appreciate.


At first I wiggled like an egg in its primordial stages of development.

I saw my first glimpse of the beautiful, bright light in this world.

I grew slightly excited,

but still remained,

filled with the immature qualities

of a boy.


With time,

came a conscious awareness

of my place in the womb of my universe.

and a moderate literary love of life.



Recently I broke free from the then loose chains of my past.

I just opened up and shattered the cocoon I’ve been hiding in

and saw the intricate world for the first time.

The world I had only before read about,

the world I always knew was there.


Just a second ago,

beautiful and majestic wings blossomed from the sides of my developing arms,

reaching all the way

covering the sides of the bed on which I still sit.


I now spring off the bed with the determination of a robust gust of wind.

I fling open my window

with the force of a supernova in the seemingly placid night sky.



I will fly.

Fly anywhere any human of my potential has ever flown before.

Swooping down to the slums of the insecurity of my friends

and as high as the atmosphere reaches

with acute understanding of the laws that nature abides by.


I will gallop through the earthly wonder that surrounds me

and find everything that is worth doing and all the people worth loving.

The tree branches sway back and forth in freedom,

teasing and taunting me while I lie in my own self-pity.

This eternal thirst I have cannot be quenched.


A pole’s flag violently swaying in a hurricane

as it bends and hurls,

sick with despair,


I snap out of my thoughts and emit a sigh, a moan;

which it is

a mystery

I’ll never solve.


I cannot tell if I am frowning or weeping,

my heartbeat picks up, I bite my nails.


This disease is a spiritual presence,

haunting all those who have it.


I lie awake and think of them:

the ones that I admire and can comprehend.

Us poets, compare one thing to another,

but we ourselves are truly the hardest to understand.

We humans announce the term “forever”

as if we understand the immense weight of the word.

But us ignorant ones have only existed

in a blink of the eye in the cosmic spectrum.




Time flies by as we live our daily lives.

We assume that we have an accurate concept of time,

but our perspective of time is just by our solar system.

The only natural clock of our existence.



And the solar system is but one of

the single pieces of sand on the beach of unknown.

Forever stands as an inappropriate word.

The only thing that I know will last forever


is our ignorance.

I would describe my mind as insatiable.

I have a thirst for truth that not many know of.

I don’t want knowledge; I want understanding.


My mind can make me smile.

When I realize something interesting,

the sides of my mouth creep up slowly like a cat stalking it’s prey.


But my mind can also make me miserable-

when I realize truths of depressing significance.


I always stay up very late into the night

wondering

pondering

thinking not of people but of ideas.


My mind may rarely rest,

but the satisfaction I get from my mind can bring my life to irresistible harmony.

Language is the spice of life

The icing on the cake of my meager existence.

A period may stand to connect a subject and a predicate,

and to end a thought,

but a period only leads me to crave more.



The moment before the turn of the page is a drug

calling me back and back again.

Words start in the most distant corner of my mind and flow to the surface

like the beginning of a great tsunami.

I just saw a movie.

One of violence, ******, and fear.

Why am I so lucky?

I live in a safe environment.

Opportunity rings everywhere I go.

Trivial problems occupy my mind.

Self centered,

spoiled with my luck,

I live unhappily.

Precise and organized
is the place we live.
A chair, a city, a country, a world, a galaxy,
all have systems of organization.
Running like clockwork,
precise and intricate,
everything in the universe is perfect.
But I don’t understand why.

I think to myself:
Why is the universe not a messy soup?
How is everything so independent physically?
The universe was once chaotic, random, and tumultuous.
But now it is neat and calm.

We live in a tranquil era of the universe
where such a world we inhabit can exist.
This entropy has served us well.
We don’t have to worry.
Everything will be alright.

Yet as I write this war and struggle encompass our earth.
People are dying in the hands of their loved ones.
Screams, tears, shots, explosions.
These frightening realities
come from a beautiful blue marble of a planet.
Life requires just right conditions
to grow and evolve.
Yet life is the sole imperfection in this universe.

I may not be gifted.

But I have this insatiable urge to be great, magnificent, and talented.

I want to inspire awe.

I want to impress not only my peers,

but most importantly myself.




I was given an amazing opportunity

to attend a superb university.

While I believe I lucked out in my admission,

I believe a blessed epoch in my life

has just begun.



I write this poem as a promise for the future.

This goal I have

is not an easy task.

It will require years

of incredibly hard work and dedication.



I will work to achieve this.

Even if I need to stay up all night and day

testing the limits of my mind,

it will all be worth it when I can look back and say:


I did it.

Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, Tumblr

We use these technologies to pass the time

But the time we spend scrolling our fingers down an iPhone

is never fun or productive

and memories are never made


But whenever I have a spare moment in the day

I’m probably scrolling through some timeline,

looking at some random persons page,

and wasting the short and precious existence that

we are given on this earth

The bell rings and we hurry to our next class

Run out of time on an exam and it’s too late

We are in a constant race against time

Time like a cat chasing a mouse

We flee only to be caught again in its wrath.

The universe fluctuates rapidly

But for some reason

We organize ourselves with time

In an unorganized world