#projects
Paris is about attitude and the art of slow living, where nothing’s urgent and everything’s fine.
But if you’re in school, that’s not true. I just began a group project (gp), and to paraphrase William Shakespeare, the storm has come again!
GPs are big affairs with slow moving parts, like conceptualization and collaboration - and all that happens before any actual work is done.
Some cultures treat deadlines like casual suggestions but I get absolutely hinky in the loom of deadlines - I pace, chew fingernails and fret.
The other day, a TA (teaching assistant) asked me if I was trying to
“prove something,” (‘Qu'essayez-vous de prouver?’)
The French invented ‘laze faire’ after all,
but I’m American enough to have dismissively said,
“I’d like to prove I can complete the assignment on time.”
Let’s get poet-y..
*A trial comes, like a cloud, so dark it should thunder
but there’s no bromide, offer of shelter or tent to mock the storm,
it’s for us - as strangers - to return results which opinion crowns fair.*
.
.
Let’s sing the blues:
O.K. I'll Play the Blues - Deanna Bogart
Emotions and Math - Margaret Glaspy
Preachin' Blues by Larkin Poe
Nov 8, 2025
Nov 8, 2025 at 10:54 AM UTC
When a project has been abandoned, creators of said project will solve small, irrelevant problems, so as to give themselves an ounce of satisfaction, rather than just solve the problem as a whole.
Oct 11, 2024
Oct 11, 2024 at 9:48 PM UTC
You know the famous saying
All good things come to an end
This applies to weekends as well
Or in this case, Sundays
Because I was forced to work yesterday
Due to a massive project
Which will keep me occupied
For a good three weeks
Including two Saturdays
Hence, all the more reason
To positively dread the start of tomorrow
Ah yes, the infamous Monday
Something that terrifies me
More than climbing Mount Everest
Or entering a lion's den
Or earning the wrath of a cobra
I can go on and on
But I think I've made my point
Yes, Mondays are bad
Especially if you've enjoyed the weekend
As much as I did
Notwithstanding working on Saturday
So, do you want to know
What makes tomorrow twice as bad
As any other Monday?
Firstly, as mentioned earlier
I am working on a big project
Probably my biggest in the last three years
Secondly, while the going has been smooth so far
Things are going to get tricky
So far, all I have accomplished
Is pure research
But now, I'll have to start calling people
And these are not recruitment calls
Which are relatively straightforward
On the other hand
I am entering pure sales territory
Which may not be a big deal
For most "normal" people
But for someone who is autistic
It is a different ballgame altogether
In fact, it is like steering a ship
Through the Bermuda Triangle
And finally
The biggest roadblock
In my long and treacherous path
Is not the candidates
Not even the client
But my accursed laptop
Whose ability to perform under pressure
Is even less than that of South Africa
In a global cricket tournament
Feb 20, 2022
Feb 20, 2022 at 11:58 AM UTC
Accomplishment
Milestones
Completion...of a step
What does it mean to be done
Is there such a thing?
Sometimes the moment of doneness passes by
Invisible
Revealed only in hindsight
Savor the moments
Of completion
Accomplishment
Being done
Even if only of this step
The best laid plans can always go awry
So celebrate along the way
Celebrate the effort
The intention
The support you receive
Doneness as you expected may never come to pass
If it does
You will more concretely see
all the steps it took to get there
Either way
We all benefit
From celebrating milestones
All the steps along the way
Whether that means dreaming an idea
Or completing a voyage
Across a sea
Intact
Sep 1, 2021
Sep 1, 2021 at 8:24 PM UTC
ivories that are made of letters
grey skin, blackred hair, word babies
gigantic mirror, blackly glowing
psychedelic nature like 1968
apartment in the projects
hallways full of dust and spiders
uncle is smoking the daylight away
his walls covered with bulletholes
red and tired eyes, no smiling
uncle's wife killed in a car crash
dead goons are torturing him now
the memory of her dead body, stuck
past encounters like smoke in the air
red frost covers uncle's body, glaciers
a button to turn back time, fantasies
melting hours for god's sacrifices
Jul 10, 2020
Jul 10, 2020 at 9:58 AM UTC
all this time, i've yet to come to terms with certain words
for instance, design, and all of its nuance
how do i design in true
when i am a shard of
azure experience in the
endlessness of midnight blue?
all this time, i've yet to call my good form to return
for instance, my designs, and all the nuances --
the water drains, shallow now,
from my composition,
as if i'm the desert, when once,
i was my own oasis.
reflection is a given. still,
how can i reflect this ill
in good faith, when the
poisonous sick saw my
leg up ascend into ruins?
Aug 7, 2019
Aug 7, 2019 at 1:26 PM UTC
portal space is open,
in a purple swirl,
and I'm
****** back into a world
on the brink of an advent
toward some higher mind,
with a blessed perspective,
this recollection's wretched.
Levity was a given,
for mortality ignored.
What to do with levity,
with mortality accepted,
and endings implored.
last laugh always wins
(where are your friends?)
have been deemed unnecessary
everlasting grin
(how off have you been?)
have i?
no. have i?
what's it gonna take to get this bad brain
back on the right of the left hand black?
nothing will. nothing will.
what's it gonna take to get this bad brain
back on the right track to get connected
with the rest of them?
nothing will. bad brain bad.
Jul 30, 2019
Jul 30, 2019 at 2:31 AM UTC
take a poor, fat, spiced chocolate kid
from its welfare house
put it in a program with rich kids,
tell it it can be just like that,
if it learns critical thinking,
logical reasoning, communication,
and problem solving.
can it?
[falls asleep in a dumpster]
Jul 29, 2019
Jul 29, 2019 at 7:01 PM UTC
this ******* thing came to this:
two brains, sever and split.
two pigs, top of the town,
made marquee marked on the ground!
punctuate!
i'm smothered, but
the fourth wall's
done getting scraped!
version one point one was nothing new,
these scrapes make room for version one point two.
Jul 29, 2019
Jul 29, 2019 at 2:22 AM UTC
shouting
die 2 try?
try n Try
try 2 die
laughing?
Jul 27, 2019
Jul 27, 2019 at 12:47 AM UTC
that feel when you crawl out of your dumpster, and see your **** neighbor in a bikini at the community cesspool
Jul 21, 2019
Jul 21, 2019 at 5:23 PM UTC
for all my preparation
this project begins to slip away
what if my great fantasy
hinges on a banal happiness?
the ink of ballpoint pen
takes me as far as sorrow's edges
i confess best to myself
wetness skin to skin, with sweat's sweet and
sour accompaniment is as close to happiness
as i can steer this sinking ship
as of late there's nothing left
of the sweat to cleanse my dead palate
Jul 21, 2019
Jul 21, 2019 at 11:16 AM UTC
n if you have a clue
pork who watches you move
will be taking notes
this ***** knows how it goes
n if you have a plan
pork who watches you move
will catch it, understand
this ***** is stealing souls
keep it under the knife
surgeon and patient
simultaneously
ship and astronaut
in E.V.A.
Jul 21, 2019
Jul 21, 2019 at 10:40 AM UTC
Looking at the left
Looking at the right
I am of need of distractions
A distraction to put distance
To my distorted mind.
Jan 29, 2019
Jan 29, 2019 at 6:01 AM UTC
I've got
The weight of the world
On my shoulders
I carry the Earth on my back
They throw stones at me
But I throw boulders right back
Cold shoulders
Disregard to your hand on your strap
I try to share warmth with this world
But it just makes me colder
I try to show my brothers Love
But I have less and less
As I get older
And they can't come back
I've learned to forgive
And I have no regrets
But I never forget
Nah
Not when it comes to this
You can miss me with that
Consistence
Stay persistent
God, I miss them
Still I stay laid back
Just like the way
The piece always pops
The red sight always dots
And the steady aim always protects
Lessons learned
When you earned your stripes
In the 'jects
I’ve watched so many
Loved ones leave
Like the changing of the colors
In the leaves
That my heart
Has begun to bleed
It feeds the fire in my veins
And the bullets in my teeth
Of which I load into this magazine
That hides the pain
Buried deep beneath
For all the brothers
That I've lost to the streets
Just like Pac
I shed tattooed tears
For multiple peers
And failed to sleep well
For multiple years
So I drank multiple beers
On the night that
I lost all fear
That was the night
I told those cowards
All come near
So they can all come hear
My rifle rear back
As I blast back
And I take the knife
Out of my back
And I stab back
With a pen in my hand
My pen is a bullet
And only the one's
Who didn't have time to think
Before they pulled it
Will ever understand
Jun 22, 2018
Jun 22, 2018 at 9:53 AM UTC
Finish what you start.
So you can do it again.
Apr 14, 2018
Apr 14, 2018 at 12:45 PM UTC
By Arcassin B , soul S , Richard L.A
SS : Bars on windows ,Bars on doors
Metal ceilings ,Beveled floors
Come in folks!
There's lots of room!
It don't matter it's a tomb...
A prison cell of bone & hide
You won't know Til you're inside...
Here I am, I'm in the lobby
Locked within a broken body
Makes me want to scream & shout...
I'm just dying to get out!
There's the rub... just want to cry!
To get OUT I have to DIE.
There's just one way To be free.
But I don't want to die, you see.
I guess I'll stay & just be ME.
AB : To posses more ,empathy,
Weeping over dead bodies like the anniversary of
9/11, God bless each and every person in this world to
live long and prosper, this is hostile,
waiting on Jesus to descend to us and preach the gospel,
there's not enough empowerment to help the weak,
And there's not enough food here to feed the homeless,
Not even enough friends around your child to see her smile
and you always treat her like nothing so she thought her
life was worthless,
looked into the barrel of the gun And, POW!,
Didn't even say her last words , not even a letter,
you should have spoke to her,
could have been a better nurturer.
RLA : Living In the Projects. ...
I learnt my name.... I learnt my fame...
Living in the Projects....
Learnt how to skillfully write my name in lights.... All over the place. ...
I was living in my own mind when it happened....
You....
Happened to Me...
From where you came, I had No idea....
I was lifted up, above my feet...
Don't leave me hanging ......
Around for too long.....
Jul 11, 2017
Jul 11, 2017 at 10:30 AM UTC
Despondent people are not puzzles to decipher
and we are not broken vases to be fixed, either.
We are not projects for you to put together
just so you can boost your ego over "saving" another.
Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 5:25 AM UTC
As the school year
draws near,
I could already smell my greatest fears.
I could already taste those upcoming
salty tears.
May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 11:53 AM UTC
12:30 AM.
I am a ghost drifting through the midnight-quiet,
haunting flower beds and grasses
Undisturbed in their slumber. My body floats
Through my neighborhood, stealing the
Secrets of the dark.
1 AM.
Ghoulish eyes peer out from Mrs. Butler’s bushes and
Become miniature 3-eyed deer with antlers sharpened to
Daggers. They roam about her dewy lawn,
Feasting on worms and blinking,
Slowly, one eye at a time.
3:30 AM
Arrives, and they return to their hideaway home,
Disappearing with one final b l i n k
Into the rhododendrons.
5 AM.
I never knew that morning tasted like
Strawberries and honeysuckle and smelled
Like freshly-cut-grass-mixed-with-bonfire-smoke.
My Tongue is heavy with its sickly-sharp odor
And my ears buzz from the tangy sweetness.
7 AM.
Corporeal reality coats my body, connecting my mind
to my soul, my
Soles to the soil and I am incarnate, whole,
A body amid the sunlit specters surrounding me.
9 AM.
A mumbo-jumbo grin slides onto my face,
Synthetic in every aspect of the word,
My mouth is cotton-dry as I slink into the bogusness of a weary day.
10 AM.
Crowds of people smoosh together, their words co-mingling
And I crash my bike into strung-together sentences,
Scraping my knees on the voracity of barbed words.
11. “She’s a constant damsel-in-distress, but she doesn’t work in a strip joint!” I step around the shards of her fallen tiara as I climb the ivory-tower’s steps.
12. My wide eyes view futility as a type of texture, and I imagine it feels like sandpaper. My first class feels like sandpaper-futile in this struggle to stay awake.
13. Bicycling to la clase de Español se siente como moviéndose a través de melaza.
Mis pies cansados empujar los pedales pero I can’t escape the quicksand around me.
14. Reading the thoughts of my classmates helps to pass the time, and
I can see clearer through closed-eyelids than open eyes.
15. Red walks among their peers, watching for passing dogs and smiling at them. Red is
Hyperaware of people they knew from past school and recalls names and faces in seconds. Red is
A zombie trudging on shaky legs, lumbering down the bricked path.
16. Murky sunlight streams through tired clouds and blinking is a visceral kind of pain.
17. My poetry stews in my brain, rotting and fermenting until it becomes a fine wine.
18. Trees wish me good luck, waving their branches affirmatively as I pass by. Their comforting
Footsteps warm my soul.
19. Darkness steals the sun’s warmth but I’ve hours more to be awake.
20. I am a ghost floating through this sea of people. I drift through them, haunting their conversations
Haunting my own quiet mind.
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 4:42 PM UTC