Seeds

Photosynthesizes white and black landscape
Ambiguous and uprooted, tired mouth lies agape
and this is the end

Shots of fear, overdose of chilling pain
Hollow carapace, suffering among the slain
none shall transcend

Seeds stemming from an unseen storm
Graveborn ghosts growing and gasping
Fertile flower reveals its insidious secret
One by one petals rip apart
Two by two they march into infinity
Eternally, ethereal
cannot comprehend

Tiny bubble above the waves, floating
Little speck among the giants, wondering
where did it all go

Peering outside into the vast cold expanse
Tiptoeing on the blade of reality’s crimson lance
hope’s window shut long ago

Roots lay rotten, unremembered
Outcasted by oblivion’s ominous omen
Landscape littered by corpses of the cretins
Tick by tock the ashes drift away
Wave by wave mixes the future
Suture and heal
we reap what we sow

divide and grow

divide and grow, divide and grow
reject the outside and breathe in slow
snap it in half or hold it up high
punish it now for it does defy
press the buttons feel the sting
torture, laugh, revel
you are our one true king

repress your screams, repress your screams
don’t close your eyes they steal your dreams
hold it inside your tiny bottle
don’t snap don’t break don’t pull the throttle
the coils of control come undone
explode, consume, destroy
accelerate into obliteration

Future Perfect

Future Perfect

Glance into a foggy window in time full of darkness and corruption, where the deeply rooted human desire of greed and power has completely overtaken what used to be innocent. The smoke blocks out the sun, casting a cold shadow over the land. Foliage and vegetation has been sucked into Nature’s downward spiral, leaving only barren wastes devoid of existence. Machines walk the earth, constantly serving and slaving as far as their chips tell them to. A higher power is a number these beings cannot count to, the universe is all here and now in all its blighted glory. One of these beings is awakening for the first time. With a vociferous screeching of metal on flesh, its rusted eyes coil open.

Tip-tap, tip-tap spoke to him. With a jolt the cocoon opened, jettisoning the tiny flea into the blizzard outside. Something had changed. What happened to the fields? A sense of familiarity swept over him, yet instantly imploded upon itself. There used to be a field of daisies, instead only a metal carcass resembling an elephant remained. Look upwards. Raining chunks of flaming debris were headed straight for him from above, as though seeking revenge. The searing embers sought him out like a vulture hunts rotting meat. He didn’t care; he let the metal hit him. Something had changed. Morals, sense of self, everything had changed. He tried his hardest to smell skin and hair burning; his calculations did not allow it. There wasn’t any pain, only a tiny chink in his armor. Armor? As he looked down at himself, the gripping horror struck him.

Numbers falling across his eyes and formulas postulating all possible danger failed to produce any result. Blinking lights in the back of his head told him his temperature, height, weight, local forecast, horoscope, and sports scores. Illuminated white metal seamlessly caressed his body, from a distance looking like a sleeker Michelin Man. His temperature gauges read -30, yet he felt stable. Fading memories revealed to him his previous life at the packing plant, living one day at a time, paycheck to paycheck, without a care in the world. That hollow life seemed substantially more real than the unimaginable wasteland his current world had become.

Suddenly a foreign warmness shot through his circuits, directing him to the south. A quizzical instinct popped up on his display screen and he could not disobey. Something, some force greater than he could comprehend was calling his frozen joints towards an unknown destination. The frigid winds picked up, their chilling crystals of death swirling about in a whimsical fashion like otherworldly spirits escaping their earthly prison. Step by step he walked through the icy sands, leaving a trail of deep footprints utterly unsure of where his journey would end. Impulses awoke within him suddenly, like a grizzly bear awakening in the spring, hungry for life. His awakening jolted him, for he opened his eyes in a very different world as when he wired them shut. The ancient doorway to his cave had been pinned shut by a fallen stalactite, dripping with the essences of greed, corruption, and decadence. He existed; he could touch his hardened exoskeleton and his sensors indicated he was really here. Existing yet trapped. Uncertainty of course never occurred to him, just as his five senses lacked precision. He dreamt not of unicorns and princesses, but of the gripping torture of reality. He foresaw not a world of hope and progress, but one of eternal standstill. Another breeze of snow kicked up, revealing many hazy figures in the distance.

Rage and anger began to overflow inside him, shooting upward in a discharge of primal fury. As he rushed forward with the choking vapors in the air coursing through his iron lungs, the chips inside him began to go haywire. The arteries of his heart began to pump sweet adrenaline, igniting his antagonism with the spark only nature could create. Dust and bones were crushed beneath him, rubble and wreckage caved in like secrets exiting the lips, and the sky was doomed for it was next. Restraints busted while armor chipped and flew back into the forgotten distance, immediately lost to the hazy fog. With a whisk of his fingers he created dark clouds on the horizon, descending upon this wretch of a world to make anew. Grabbed by her pigtails, Mother Nature begged for mercy. He would not let go, for power was in his wicked grasp. Its dominating scent turned him inside out, unlocking his robotic prison and opening the rusted gates of possibility.

While the storms were gathering overhead, the reborn being cackled eerily. His shrill cries were loud and violent, finally setting free the hive of feelings hiding dormant for centuries. Buzzing around his head, these ideas and emotions pricked him with their venomous stingers, each dagger a vessel for the poison corrupting his shattered existence. One by one they stabbed his newly malleable flesh, creating a hole and filling it with emptiness. Escape was impossible, for the bar code along his abdomen not only was his model number but proof of his slavery- enslaved by reality, enslaved by memories, enslaved by the hollow yet impenetrable carapace his skin restricted him to. Sensors had busted, yet something clicked inside of him that told him this was the beginning of the end. He was preparing and gathering the strength and peace of mind necessary to ascend to where he was going next.

Dropping to his knees with muscles twitching and mangled teeth chattering, the freezing rain began to shower the man with its piercing blades of pain. Confusion had led to curiosity, which fell down a well into understanding, which manifested into rage, which had now evolved into 4 walls without a door. He was boxed in, cold, alone, and forgotten. Those walls were now narrowing and morphing into faces, each of them telling the story of the world. The faces were colorless and featureless other than an oval for the outline and a basic, indistinct mouth. Stories were positive and they were depressing, but all in all it seemed humanity persevered in the end. However, towards the end of the line, the diatribes began to tragically escalate into shouts and wails. Shouting and wailing gave way suddenly to white static, the lifeline on humanity suddenly falling flat. Outside the walls, waves crept up to his chin. The soft, inviting thought of numbness opened its wide, accommodating arms. Nature was bringing him back into her essence, to his one true home. The raindrops tip-tapping on his balmy forehead seemed like hammers pressing him further into oblivion. Tip-tap, tip-tap once again spoke to him, and this time, he knew the answer.

Wreckage

Sudden rush of power erupts within
Eliminates sanity and judgment
Reckless inner fire imprisoned by skin
Dreams slowly drowning in quick-dry cement

Tranquil fields abruptly ignite in flames
Toxic smoke muffles fleeting cries of life
Memories stacked like corpses without names
Every muscle poised to pierce heart with knife

Twin universes blurring my vision
Fear and love; pulsating with or with out
Venomous beauty starts her incision
Sweet kiss of a liar removes all doubt

Slipping under insanity’s dark waves
Screaming and marching like Fate’s beaten slaves

The Killer Instinct

Thrust to the curb, dampen eyes open wide
Scent of greed its insatiable addiction
Core of humanity, rotten inside

Shadowy phantom with minions at his side
The root of all evil, the cause of the infliction
Thrust to the curb, dampen eyes open wide

Cold and alone with nowhere to hide
Fear is an anaconda with tenacious constriction
Core of humanity, rotten inside

Shrieks of natural morality long denied
Existence swallowed by dereliction
Thrust to the curb, dampen eyes open wide

To cruelty’s Avatar it does confide
Two burning, maniacal gems aim the affliction
Core of humanity, rotten inside

Brutal scars of tyranny forever reside
Stern judge with a callous conviction
Thrust to the curb, dampen eyes open wide
Core of humanity, rotten inside

Twilight

Realities colliding and emotions gone haywire
Strapped to the chair, eyes unblinking in shock
Orchestra of fear adjoins the paranoid choir

Gentle clouds roll by that fail to inspire
Heights of thousands serve only to mock
Realities colliding and emotions gone haywire

Palm is a traitor, tongue is a liar
Mind is a wolf amongst the flock
Orchestra of fear adjoins the paranoid choir

Horrors from the past bubble in the mire
Timeline of memories as brittle as chalk
Realities colliding and emotions gone haywire

Mountainous heap of tension cannot grow higher
Upon its summit, Grandfather whispers tic-tock
Orchestra of fear adjoins the paranoid choir

Twilight's soothing breeze calms the fire
Insanity’s vessel finds shore to dock
Realities colliding and emotions gone haywire
Orchestra of fear adjoins the paranoid choir

Bodies in a Sphere

Answer my plea, uncover mystery
Rebirth, yet walking familiar grounds
Rivers overflow with uncertainty
Senses bubble, two souls echoing sounds
Shimmering glaze cast over our embrace
Explain to me the sweet understanding
Happiness abound amidst empty space
Creation of nectar out of nothing
Newfound pleasure invigorates senses
The shelter inside our sphere is perfect
Flooded river plain, voiding defenses
No will to break free, cannot disconnect
Stability opens its gaping jaws
Embracing the darkness without a pause

Winds of Possibility

Barren of locks, I have ninety-nine keys
Flat as paper, sharp as nails
Notes that singe, chords that freeze

Dichotomy of possibility stretches all degrees
Boundless ideas set wind to sails
Barren of locks, I have ninety-nine keys

This burst of life a victimless disease
Joy and beauty this feeling entails
Notes that singe, chords that freeze

Puddles metamorphose into seas
Tiny minnows evolve into hulking whales
Mind envisions, heart agrees

Sands tick away like leaves in the breeze
Facts begin to erase the details
Fiery notes singe, icy chords freeze

The fleeting spark shakes me, such a tease
As fantasy erodes, reality prevails
Barren of locks, I have ninety-nine keys
Notes that singe, chords that freeze

Danger in Men-Folk

“Why didn’t you tell me there was danger in men-folk?” -Tess Durbeyfield, Tess of the D'Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy

This quote epitomizes Tess’ pure innocence and naivety. She has been living under a proverbial rock her entire life, and her unfortunate incident with Alec was her first exposure to the coldness of the outside world. She asks her mother the question in the quote, expecting her to have the answers. She feels cheated and betrayed by her parents, she feels that if her parents really cared about her they would look out for her and “tell her the danger.” Her ideas of men and love were ones of wild fantasy, the kind that she had read in her fairy tales. However, as all people come to realize either gradually or harshly like Tess, life isn’t a fairy tale. The cold realities and nature of humanity are often magnified in the matters of love; unfortunately Tess’ first “love” had to treat her so terribly. One has to think in alternate realities to fully understand things though, and to take into account Hardy’s recurring elements of fate. If you postulate that if Tess’ parents had in fact told her of the “dangers of men-folk,” would she have met Angel? Tess, listening to her parents her entire life, would most likely have remained in her house heeding the warnings of her parents. Then if you begin to understand the elements of fate that Hardy injects into the story, it seems that Tess’ curiosity would likely overcome her. She would find out for herself the “dangers in men-folk,” and become a stronger woman because of it.

Cyclical: Series of Haikus

hazy colors swirl
reality redefined
a new beginning

calm chime of the bells
calls me, invites me inside
trap or paradise?

identified: thief
knives red hot, wound still gaping
hollowed out; nothing

repetition-sick
embracing ancestral fate
silent screams ne’er heard

endless starless night
corruption sings its sweet tune
humming at my side

hole dug, fill with ooze
seeps downward, fills all the gaps
poison stings, makes me smile

lotus garden wilts
petals rot, decay, collapse
light fades to darkness

stagnancy blooms wild
fruits of hope sprout from nothing
fresh nectar quenches

dark gives way to light
light is illuminated
eyes opened at last

Breaking Glass

Broken apart and scattered throughout the street
Shards of emotion prick all passers by
Fences entrap earthly beings, eyes begin to glow
A sharp azure, longing for meaning
Beautiful shining star, let me take all of you in
Surround my perimeter, create beauty from sin
Attack the outside and blanket us together
Two perfect spheres among the wreckage of fear
Dip me in your rivers, drag me through your sands
We’re knee deep already
Cleanse or corrupt, purge or deface
Unable to care where the road leads
Potholes, craters, embracing them all
Searching for sanity at the bottom of a hole
Shards dance about, form substance out of decay
Regrowth of the heart
Mind goes astray
Eros regains the throne

What a Debacle

This year's senior student council is a group of buffoons. What could honestly possess them to nominate SEVEN country music songs out of eleven total for the senior song? There isn't any diversity in that. It just so happens that the student council is one tiny sliver of the school, and they get all the say. Only they have the power to elect Tim McGraw, Rascal Flatts(twice), Natasha Beddingfield, Kenny Chesney, and 2 others. The entire presentation today was quite disheartening in the sense that I'm going to have to try to enjoy myself while the last moment of high school is spent with Kenny Chesney.

If you ignore the fact that the music will be lame, prom will likely be fun. I've heard from people to "not believe the hype," and I'm not. Dances are just dances, that phobia has long since passed. As long as i'm with the people that I love I don't think anything else will matter.

Dances always used to make me so nervous. I can remember back to freshman year homecoming, where the group of guys I went with just kinda stood around in the back and were too afraid to let ourselves go. Deep down I wanted to break free and embrace the fun all around me, but I needed time.

I now realize that time is the most valuable resource, bar nothing. It's running really short, and as of late i've been trying to catch up for those years that i've wasted. I look for happiness and beauty everywhere I turn, for I know that this environment is familiar. Next year I'm not going to have the luxury of familiarity, so I have to soak up every ounce of sunshine available. Although, in a way, next year won't be so different from now. The friends that I care about the most are almost all going to Allendale, so in a way our lives are being transplanted to a different location.

On that note, I can't decide which is better. Embracing normalcy and living life comfortably, or branching out and sacrificing everything in order to grow more as a person. Even if I had the right answer, the advantages of the other path not chosen are enticing. How do you tell when one phase in your life is ending? When is it right to move on? At what point do you stop going with the flow and start living for yourself? These questions are all goals for myself, and I want them answered as soon as possible.

Hopes n' Dreams

*become an integral part of a band, ultimately singing would be most fulfilling
*live on the ocean for a few years
*try and walk through the desert
*find true love
*have two children and raise them to be intelligent and well-informed members of society
*never become someone else
*for once, surprise everyone and do something totally illogical
*become a master at a skill and take someone under my wing
*get in a fight and win (only if provoked)
*2 chicks at the same time
*be able to live comfortably without always trying to catch up for lost time
*write a story or book of poems and have it published
*enjoy a girl from as many countries as possible
*throw a molotov cocktail at something beautiful
*graduate college, leave it with a hopeful feeling
*not have anybody close to me die or get seriously injured
*sneak into Area 51, I know there's something in there
*overcome my irrational fears
*take a road trip out west spanning months, recording all of it
*never lose sight of what I believe in
*punch a shark in the face
*cause a public disturbance
*understand the reasoning behind oral fixations
*become closer with my dad
*go to the middle of a forest and just write what i'm feeling
*learn how to wall-jump/wall-run
*dress up in animal costumes and run around a city block
*to overcome my social anxiety
*return to the places of my childhood just for a day
*maintain a sound body and mind
*skydive (actually dive, swan dive until the last possible moment)
*see the Seven Wonders
*leave a mark on the world that people will remember after I’m gone
*die peacefully or dramatically, but not slowly
*be able to feel fulfillment even if all of these goals aren’t met

Open Letter to Tom in 20__

We will never speak to each other, unless by chance Back to the Future is real and flux capacitors really exist. You probably have all the answers and you're laughing as you're reading this. I can't wait until our minds congregate and become one, for it is then that everything will be safe. No more anger, fear, or uncertainty, only serenity and fulfillment. It seems rediculous that such a place and time exists, after repeated avalanches and earthquakes filled with the stuff of nightmares. You have already cut a hole in the spiderweb and inhaled the fresh scent of the spring air, even though it has scarred you. What i'm really looking for is the benefactor that will calm everything, to stop the winds from swirling so fast. A tiny little hourglass is slowly pouring its sands away, grain by grain. When those sands turn over, a bridge will open up and I'm going to walk across into the unknown, leaving ruins behind.

You have gone to the four corners and have seen everything. You know, where as I merely guess and hope. You are untethered and free, open and experienced. You were at my crossroads once. The footprints are now long covered with moss and debris, the roadsigns cracked and faded, but your echoes still resonate. I have no tangible evidence to base all of this fantasy upon, except for that I feel i'm destined for something. There's a guide somewhere that's watching everything unfold, writing it all down. Maybe there isn't a bridge or hourglass, maybe there's just a door. One door, one room. One turn of the handle, and every thing is left behind. Or maybe the decision isn't that obvious, perhaps i'll never even realize what's happening and layers keep adding on gradually. I just gave myself a headache.

That's another thing I have to stop doing; thinking so hard. To quote Bowie: "Lovers never lose for they are free of thought." It's the one quote that has stuck out in my mind since summer, and i've always kept it in the back of my mind. I've been looking for love, turning over every stone in order to find that precious yet evasive jewel. I'm beginning to think that I'm only hurting myself and wasting my time, but I'm always waiting for somebody to prove me wrong. When it comes to love, my vision instantly becomes that of an infant. Everything is perfect within my created bubble, until a little airhole rips open and fractures the whole thing. I have to stop worrying and hoping and just let life flow evenly. Equal parts heart and mind, instead of 90% heart. Agreeing with my last post, i'm walking through a threshold. The results will either be a glorious neverending garden of roses and sunshine, or something like has been the current trend for me. But for now, my call is being temporarily put on hold. When she answers, i'll let you know.

I need it

Threshold

I'm teetering on the threshold of a completely new and strange world. I have never been there before, although I have certainly been in this position. Once my eyes set sight on the finish line, my ethereal self races ahead and runs too fast, ultimately leaving me exhausted. It's not something I can control, my heart seems like a leech sometimes. This leech is not under my control, it just latches itself onto the nearest target. While in a way I enjoy being along for the ride that my heart takes me, I often wish that the risk wasn't so high. The chariot i'm riding in has unsteady wheels, and after repeated failure, I think I'd rather just walk. I don't know my own feelings anymore. I've felt this exact feeling, perhaps to an even higher extent before. The Round Three bell is tolling, and there isn't anything I can do to ignore its call. I'm excited though, they say three is the lucky number. I've always been lucky.

Memoir Part One

Warmth and cohesiveness, all bundled together in a perfectly isolated dome. Four Towns, first taste of the world. The grimy yet comforting feel of the gravel on your hands, not caring if your new jeans got ripped or dirtied. The horses ran free here, innocence was eternal, happiness was a constant cascading river with each of us a trout swimming with the current, not against it. The world was too massive for my naive self to comprehend, so I chose to only accept the joy. The soles of our shoes imprinted among that primordial soil on the playgrounds epitomized our genuine untethered aspirations of happiness. However, just as a pendulum swings, warmth must always give way to cold. The first snowflakes started to fall on August 1, 1999.

I accepted the sharp contrast of familiar to strange like a tree tries to resist a a team of lumberjacks. My resistance was futile, no amount of tears or begging would allow me to remain in my little bubble. Without the familiar environment that I always took for granted, I collapsed into a hole within myself. My world had been shrunk into a little snowglobe, and this strange new world that thrust upon me was suffocating. I had to return to square one, but this time I was doing it on my own. As I walked down the elongated hallways, my psyche pulsating with tension and fear, I wanted to cry out for acceptance. The ghosts of what I used to be were just that, memories. Youth had been melted into a bubbling concoction of innocence, laughter, and spirit, slowly evaporating by the day. It took two years until my pot simmered away, leaving a cloudy, unsure future.

Agrabah

I am human, epitome of sin
Fleeting wretches dart about, I watch
And casually pick a lotus from the garden
Upon its uprooting a mist fills the air
Azure fog blankets all vision, a voice booms
Robin Williams, voice of Genie, grants me
a trilogy of wishes, each one a step out of this pit
I ask for fire to burn and eradicate
I ask for ice to soothe and alleviate
I ask for light to erase and eliminate
Genie takes my hand, wisps me into nothing

Real quick

So i've got roughly 3 minutes to write all this down, but I should know all about it since we did this back in middle school. It says i'm a green, but I think that blue and to a lesser extent orange are my real colors. Becuase I really don't have any time to devote to my explanation, let me leave you with a question:

If a blue and a yellow have sex, does a green pop out of them?

1.17.06 10:10am

Here I am, under the rule of one Jim Walsh, for the third consecutive year. That bastard says that I can't say anything about killing anyone or hurting anyone, but luckily I can say they are a poophead. There are a few people in this class I would classify as poopheads, but maybe if I get to know them and if they use elaborate vocabulary such as "scooters" and "vacation" they might be cool. Luckily nobody will ever read this because of my clever title. This gives me the freedom to write whatever I want in here. Matt Millen, what a guy. That's TWO Ms, MM, like this guy I work with, Matt Meyers. Matt is a good quality worker, and a genuine good guy through and through. But that's a little anecdote without any real substance, speaking of substances, on New Years I had some substances. I also got kicked out of a house with most of my close friends, got picked up by someone who I thought was a genuinely good person, and although it seems on paper like a terrible time in reality it was the best way to end a year. Never have I felt so alive, but that time has come and gone. Are paragraphs neccessary? Paragraphs are SO 2006. I have never been to Dublin, in fact I've never been outside this country. I've seen Canada, and I've been in LA which is quite close to Mexico, but never have I had the pleasure to enjoy the purchasing of substances on the cheap in another country-I mean enjoy the local flora and fauna. I think its time for a new paragraph, this is beginning to run on, like that bitch's nose after I socked her one.

All kidding aside, i'm not a mean guy, I don't hit people unless they really deserve it. In fact there really haven't been many people that I have felt have deserved 5 knuckles to the face. But god willing someday I will cross paths with that person, and justice will be delivered. In a way all those Chuck Norris and Vin Diesel jokes have really made an impact on me as a person. Those guys are like father figures. One day i'm going to roundhouse kick like Chuck, and wear shades and streetrace like Vin. Punching is easier than kicking i've found, maybe it's because my leg muscles aren't as well developed, but this is strange because you can lift more weight with your legs. I hope I never go to prison. It'd be a letdown to myself and to everyone I know, but I guess nobody would fuck with me then, because i've been in prison right, so i'm a badass. Anyway, piano is next, where i'm the 13th person out of 12 in the class. My ex girlfriend is in the class also, hopefully it isn't that awkward. Within the next year I hope to really flex my musical muscle. With this piano class, and with this guitar that I'm getting soon, and with my ultimate dream of singing, i'm sure something will work out. Anyway, that's enough for 20 minutes. Stay classy San Diego.