Leaving our white-and-grassgreen creche
Where our brother is born
Crying America through toothless gums
And lemon-yellow blankets
In July
This was written in my Creative Writing Class, when shown this image:
Saturday, March 27, 2010
The American Nativity
Me and I have gone to market
Leaving our white-and-grassgreen creche
Where our brother is born
Crying America through toothless gums
And lemon-yellow blankets
In July
This was written in my Creative Writing Class, when shown this image:
Leaving our white-and-grassgreen creche
Where our brother is born
Crying America through toothless gums
And lemon-yellow blankets
In July
This was written in my Creative Writing Class, when shown this image:
Saturday, February 13, 2010
This is the Almost-Morning News.
(a) Bon soir, good evening.
(b) This hateful airport is grinding its way into my very bones at this moment. The fast-food smell lingers in the air, combining unsparingly with the sweat of tourists rushing to a cab. Those pitiful vacationers tear right through my calm and collective exterior as I wait in line behind them to speak with the flight director. Her cigarette-scarred lips move uncaringly as she passes off each sun-burnt dad and mom. So at ease. So despicable. I have reached the front. I regain my composure and breathe steadily as I explain how “I NEED to get on a plane within the next two hours” bound for the future of my business career. No response, just a crackled “We all need somethin’, doll” And I shoot her the death glare through my perfect-fitting glasses. I hope that they magnify the intense displeasure I exhibit. I guess they don’t, because she just takes a long drag of the cig and chuckles to herself in that scratchy-tuned voice that ruined my career. I walk away, my heels clack menacingly on the linoleum as I swiftly pull out a quarter and insert it into the pay-phone. Farewell, dear opportunity.
(c) Paragraph poetry #1
(b) This hateful airport is grinding its way into my very bones at this moment. The fast-food smell lingers in the air, combining unsparingly with the sweat of tourists rushing to a cab. Those pitiful vacationers tear right through my calm and collective exterior as I wait in line behind them to speak with the flight director. Her cigarette-scarred lips move uncaringly as she passes off each sun-burnt dad and mom. So at ease. So despicable. I have reached the front. I regain my composure and breathe steadily as I explain how “I NEED to get on a plane within the next two hours” bound for the future of my business career. No response, just a crackled “We all need somethin’, doll” And I shoot her the death glare through my perfect-fitting glasses. I hope that they magnify the intense displeasure I exhibit. I guess they don’t, because she just takes a long drag of the cig and chuckles to herself in that scratchy-tuned voice that ruined my career. I walk away, my heels clack menacingly on the linoleum as I swiftly pull out a quarter and insert it into the pay-phone. Farewell, dear opportunity.
(c) Paragraph poetry #1
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Soul Stealing
(a) Heterosexual relationships lost their meaning when my parents got divorced.
(b) I feel empty.
(b) I feel empty.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Living Dead
(a) I wish we could live. I mean really live. If only someone would come up to me and tell me that they did more this morning than wake up and wish they could go back to sleep. If only someone would come up to me and say that they looked around during their morning commute to see who else was riding the bus, or what the world looked like outside the comfy leather/scratchy crap seat of their car. I'm like that. I don't live at all. Like a robot, I go through my day, trying my best not to fall apart. Not even enjoying the good things.
(b) But the other day I actually looked outside the window of my dad's Scion and saw a bunch of soccer players in the park (this was about 7 AM) and the sun filtered through the trees so beautifully. I had this mad desire to photograph it, but unfortunately there was no camera. And my photography skills aren't impressive. But if you could have seen it through my eyes, you would have adored it too. The early morning fog made it even better. Even through the window I could feel the cool morning air blowing the players' hair.
(c) And now I've decided that I have to stop living like I'm dead. I never REALLY express myself. I'm just a lemming. Someone who will do what feels right in the situation, not caring if that's what I want. But NO MORE. I'm sick of it. So from now on, when I feel the urge, I'm going to roll down my window and yell "I'M AS MAD AS HELL AND I'M NOT GOING TO TAKE THIS ANYMORE". Regardless if relatives/friends/human beings are in the vicinity. I want other people to know what I REALLY think.
(d) I've spoken my piece. 'Tis all, my friends.
(b) But the other day I actually looked outside the window of my dad's Scion and saw a bunch of soccer players in the park (this was about 7 AM) and the sun filtered through the trees so beautifully. I had this mad desire to photograph it, but unfortunately there was no camera. And my photography skills aren't impressive. But if you could have seen it through my eyes, you would have adored it too. The early morning fog made it even better. Even through the window I could feel the cool morning air blowing the players' hair.
(c) And now I've decided that I have to stop living like I'm dead. I never REALLY express myself. I'm just a lemming. Someone who will do what feels right in the situation, not caring if that's what I want. But NO MORE. I'm sick of it. So from now on, when I feel the urge, I'm going to roll down my window and yell "I'M AS MAD AS HELL AND I'M NOT GOING TO TAKE THIS ANYMORE". Regardless if relatives/friends/human beings are in the vicinity. I want other people to know what I REALLY think.
(d) I've spoken my piece. 'Tis all, my friends.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Dream Psychology 101
(a) Last night, I dreamt for once.
(b) I dreamt that I was swimming, swimming forever in a stream. Not only was this my stream, I led a whole community who was swimming there. And I had a wife. She was playful and happy (you know, like mermaids should be. Except I wasn't a mermaid), but she swam out to sea one day, and our community followed. When I finally arrived as well, on that dark shore, she was drowning, my wife was drowning. I panicked. I dove in after her, but no matter how hard I swam, the waves brushed me away from her, and she died.
My followers and I returned to the small stream in which we swam, but I was never happy again.
(c) "It's symbolic" my mother said. I agree. I'm afraid of losing a part of myself after leaving adolescence behind. Of course, adolescence itself is my worst enemy, but bigger, more frightening things may lie in wait for when I'm the magic 18 years.
(b) I dreamt that I was swimming, swimming forever in a stream. Not only was this my stream, I led a whole community who was swimming there. And I had a wife. She was playful and happy (you know, like mermaids should be. Except I wasn't a mermaid), but she swam out to sea one day, and our community followed. When I finally arrived as well, on that dark shore, she was drowning, my wife was drowning. I panicked. I dove in after her, but no matter how hard I swam, the waves brushed me away from her, and she died.
My followers and I returned to the small stream in which we swam, but I was never happy again.
(c) "It's symbolic" my mother said. I agree. I'm afraid of losing a part of myself after leaving adolescence behind. Of course, adolescence itself is my worst enemy, but bigger, more frightening things may lie in wait for when I'm the magic 18 years.
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