"The desert bears only a scathing sun, and nothing more."
"What about mirages?"

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

What Happened At The Party.

Things are quiet
the tense speaks
to the night before.
A night of too much drinking
a budding friendship fading
with the buzz
of a social construction.


Just because
everyone does
shouldn't mean I must.
I feel those pressures
more than most.
They pound inside my skin
wait to be free
from the chains
I keep around myself.
Is it worth
the restraint
I nestle into?
Time won't
reliquish that secret
to me.

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

The Band.

the band got together
last night
uneasy talk, small smiles
a little bit of punk
a little bit of rock
a little bit of everything
a little bit disjointed
until we play.
Sounds bind together
into something harmonious
and things make sense
for a little bit.

Basketball Practise.

Ball bouncing between hands
a break neck pace
as they tear down
the court.
Muscles move
in perfect ferocious

Tuesday, November 6, 2012

Inward Thoughts.

I cried harder for you
the I have for even myself.
Streetlights filtering
through a closed window.
I can never change
any of this--
can only look outside in
and wish that
compassion actually

- - -

These last two poems I wrote about the discourse that's been flying around the memorial page of Amanda Todd, and another less known case, Felicia Garcia. People just have some crazy rude things to say about these suicides (But I won't get into that here), and I feel like it's really unnecessary.

To me it doesn't matter if all the rumors about Amanda Todd are true or not. I find it imensely sad regardless of what mistakes she made that she felt there was no other way out. That she felt like death was the only option. People who are saying she doesn't deserve the attention or she had no right to end her life make me angry. It makes me angry because if it was someone they were close to, they would want others to respect their loss.  It makes me angry because people don't have respect for each other. We're all cold, unfeeling, dead things.

When I was just a kid, like 12 or 13 (seventh grade), my parents played in a band. It was a hard time for eveyone, but I think the entire family (not just my parents) looked forward to band practises because it mean't our house would be filled with happy people. One of the members of the band was a young man named Steve. He was very shy but extremely kind. When I first thought about playing guitar he taught me to read tablature (to be honest I didn't really have an interest until the 10th grade, but regardless). He was a good friend of the family and I remember enjoying his presence. I remember one day my mom woke me up and told me he'd wasn't with us anymore. We found out he had been really sick and was always in pain. I think it hit us all really hard, and since then my parents have felt the loss of a few close friends.

So maybe it's just because I've experienced what it's like to lose someone to suicide. But I don't think it's a debateable matter by any means and I'm so tired of the disrespect people all over the internet are showing.

Anyways, rant over.

Bitter People.

Can't fight
the bitterness of you
the cold angry beast
that bursts
from hollow eyes
black hearts
the minds of skeptics.
What if
for once
things just were
and we suffered
when sacred life
slipped from the branch
a supple apple
to a dead place.