hearts.

this one grows hearts.

freewrite or restrictedwrite?

why do i struggle to write?
trying to stretch the visionary dreamscapes into revelation
its self inflicted pen pressure
the scorching desklamp heat drying my inkwell into desert
the red-eyed chill of an all night misadventure
gazing through blurred frame with misaligned aperture
maybe its the no slip grip that keeps my strokes slurred
or the fine tip ball point i find elegance with
puncturing each rip in the lip of the page
the blank page
where is it?
in the afterthought of an inks drip?
the tip of starshine through my temporary dark age
i feel the weight bubbling beneath the poet's rage
wielding linethroughs and erasures like an english wielding sage
the pursuit and wander of my words are illegible
my smeared consciousness is negligible
why do i struggle to write?
maybe because i scribe in tension
while the catch was already dancing in the margins of my phrase

the inch. *inspired by v for vendetta.

theres this inch
it exists inside all of us
within this humble space we are free
its the hallowed safety
the sacred ground
the center in the margins
its home
the authenticity that is untainted by the poison around us
the truth left intact amidst all the lies
where different isn't dangerous
where apologies are unnecessary

we must not relent or surrender it
we must never lose it or give it away
we must never let them take it from us
when time runs its inevitability
every inch of us will perish
but one
an inch
it is small
and it is fragile
and it is the only thing in the world worth having

i've never been.

no metaphors. no similes. no comparisons. just truth. it feels nice to not lace this with my usual neurotic over-analysis and obsessive exaggeration. for once, i think i can just take this as it is. there's no competition or reason to prove myself to anyone this time. it's just us. there's no stress or pressures that are too much to bear as there have been with others. there is nothing to do but be me this time. for once. just this once. it's nice to just sit and talk or kiss or feel or live or laugh or chill or party or drink or drive or wander or second-hand smoke or smile. just love. it's simple. there's nothing to it. i appreciate it. simplicity and reality. i catch myself wondering...wandering. but i catch it and just feel like, fuck it! you know. acceptance. just acceptance of love and the love of acceptance. i can feel. i can see. i can be. me. just me. i've never been. just me...

We know not to drink & drive....well, DON'T BE DUMB & VOTE!!!

Please gear up, arm your consciousness and read up before putting pen to paper:

1) Candidates: On the Issues

2)Election Guide 2008

3)Your views in comparison to the candidates

my first time here. freewrite...

the child is raised in the shadow of innocence looming over her misguided youth. misdirection. the real infection is the lack of seeds that never get sown, let alone penetrate the cold concrete. now that's a global disaster. an epidemic both social and systemic. she sets off on her daily trek to get her mind fed and it always feels like the sun had just set. tattered dance shoes with the broken soles gliding feverishly across the unpaved road. broken soles passed down by her ate to match her outdated hand me down uniform. she'll grow into it, right? but will she ever grow into intellectualism or a handful of western dreams? will she ever fix her broken soul(es)? or teach her unborn children to get their mind fed? too premature to say. they say she waits for revolution to come. a silent but fierce storm brewing in the skies. if you close your eyes on the clearest day, you can hear it coming. pulsating. a silent celebration aching to reveal. before she reaches her destination, she takes a moment to acknowledge the shine. closes her eyes and raises them to kiss the sun. "one more day," she says. "one more day."

cry harder

i just woke up...

a signal to then as an end to the redundant cliche,
the motions consist of pushing the pen aside, then pulling it back in.
the goal to emulsify our existence as coating to my soul still persists.
i light the match and linger under the end of the fuse.
ready to blow the bridge i contemplate the end between both thumb and finger.
patience does not work with a lit flame,
for sooner or later the light burns out.
the match crumbles and scars the hand,
but effects the chest,
burning straight through the heart.
i leave with a steady hand and a steadfast gaze ahead.
so i picked up my whole heart and sprayed through the burned away hole,
just to stencil the way through the glamorous maze.
marking my path with intentions of probably wanting to go back and retrace steps.
"far too often a blank page is left idle".
far too often i've become content with that phrase.
amidst the green i sit back and settle,
only to constantly glance through the haze at a portrait i hold of women named hope.
with a blurry view of the horizon the blame is thrown upon ones self.
with a blind view of the goal, i pick up the tablet and inscribe a message to my future self.
i kiss the stone and cast it off the ravine.
in turn, i cut out my tongue with the expectation of it returning.
discarding it's aim off the cliff, i wander aimlessly through the forest.
now my image begins to fade.

what!

come on, don't let this shit die!! it's 2008, let's get it craaackin'!!

I OWN!

that last piece i posted! was not mine! so i must give credit to eileen!

twelve hornsby's in a line...

twelve hornsby's and a year later, i remember the past months in awe of how quick it has passed me by. 2008? for real, though? Y2K seems like it was just yesterday. the dull, dim-light room has steadied out by now and my legs are less wobbly now after the eighteen-block walk. i chuckle in silence as i see the two girls sound asleep; one at my side, one at my feet. it's a pleasant way to ring in a new year. a drunk roommate, two tipsy friends, and me in a slightly altered mindstate, i guess. earlier, that new year's kiss and their first cigarette of the year (from a pack of shitty raves i found on a traffic cone) made me realize that this year is going to be just alright. the way my balance was off-kilter made me realize that this year is going to be a life-changing one. the way my breath escaped me as a reflection of my soul made me realize. the way we walked that alley quickly made me realize that i've got to step it up and just do shit. sleeping on my floor alone until she curled up next to me and refused to go back onto my bed made me realize i've got some amazing friends. but the way that my wallet disappeared made me realize that this year is going to be difficult. but you can't realize the beauty without the struggle. in conclusion: happy new year!