Wednesday, November 30, 2011

My Pen Is...

Tis a poem about writing.

A natural tool of emotion
Sometimes its not my choice
It causes commotion
I substitute out my voice
Not quite a flower
Sometimes it becomes a sword
When it receives sudden power
I use it when I’m bored
My pen is,
The source from which feeling flows
My pen is,
Spewing ink and now it shows
My pen is,
Harder in my hand as it grows
Full of substance and age
These things build over time
Pieces of myself on the page
Nobody said it was a crime
Sweet honey or poisonous nectar
Are the potential products
Produced in that sector
When my mind runs amuck

Tuesday, November 29, 2011


Music is a huge part of my life. In fact, I've recently been branching off from my guitar playing and learning piano. As far as instruments go, the piano has been equivalent to a hott/cute/funny/physically stunning/OMG girl that you just want to talk to, but don't have the courage to try. I finally talked to her. And kinky innuendos aside, I've been playing the piano non-stop since I started. And it feels wonderful. Just like when I began teaching myself the guitar, its slow goin'. But a few break throughs here and there make all the difference to keep me on track. I love music.

However, it is not my entire life. At times I used to think it was. One month music would be everything to me, and the next it would be writing, and when I was a kid, I just craved drawing almost more than anything else.

I've come to realize that what really IS everything to me -- as far as earthly things are concerned -- is creativity and self expression in general. For those reading and grasping at straws trying to understand, I'd compare it to travel. Its like loving to travel and go places, but you don't get to destinations via only one method. There are planes, trains, and automobiles (no John Candy references, God rest his fat soul) that you use to reach places.

I'd say that writing would be like my "plane". I use it very often to get my thoughts from point A to B and it seems to be most effective at expressing what I think and feel. I would probably categorize music as either a train or a boat. They can get you places, though maybe not as fast. But the plus side is that you get to see life from a different perspective when traveling these ways. Drawing would probably be like a bike. If I'm good enough at riding, it can really get me places quite effectively. It might take more time and energy, but I can definitely get there. As of now, my drawing is limited to little doodlings here and there with an occasional half decent picture. I do like it though. And finally, I'll mention an art form that people don't think of very much, but it is one that I believe in. Speech. The way someone speaks can be truly incredible. It expresses and communicates whether by the actual words or just the way they are said. Not everyone speaks well, even on a daily basis. Modern day vernacular has become so watered down and cliche that it is remarkable to find a handful of people that speak well. Speech is my car. I use it everyday, all the time, but it is indeed unreliable at times. Just like my car, my voice has problems, namely in the way my thoughts reach my mouth and come out in stutters. Or when the thought comes to my mouth, but no words flow. People are just left looking at my gaping hole of a mouth, waiting for sound, but receiving a blank stare. Low gas. Brain farts.

Overall, I thank God for art and the ability it has to medicate and soothe the human soul if we will let it. Sometimes the hardest part is to slow our racing brains down enough to appreciate the simple pieces of human existence. Whether in an emotional painting or heartfelt lyrics. The human heart is an amazing thing. It is even more amazing when you can see a heart's tender contents become something tangible; able to be interpreted and digested, back into another person's heart.
Art was made to be shared.


A burned tongue
Is useful
Like an ammo-less gun

Arthritic hands
Do no good
Like a rubber-less band

A jittery brain
Solves little
Under anxiety's strain

Saturday, November 26, 2011


In my growing up and high school years, I subtly felt invincible. I didn't like to tell people I felt this way, but if the occasion presented itself, I'd imply it. I figured that after all the action movies and thought I'd invested in thinking about combat and survival, I would be able to outmatch any foe, large or small with my quick and precise thinking.

This was amplified every time my brother Luke would talk me up to my face or to a crowd of friends. "Oh man, Josh would kick your ass" or "Josh could take them any day". My size, strength and general mental processes put me at ease most of the time with the illusion of superiority. I'd tell myself that despite my weight or physical unfitness, my mental work would compensate and force my body through what ever it took to accomplish the fight.

In high school, I was a favored target of many of my friends. They'd pick little fights here and there, shoving or jumping on my back, trying to get the best of me. I recall a few times they even ganged up together and attempted to bring me down in numbers, but to no avail. After long bouts of rolling, pushing, throwing, and grappling, I was the winded winner. Heavy breathing didn't stop me. My mind was the only thing that kept me going in the heat of the playful-violence. This invincibility followed me out of high school for awhile until I was forced to confront the truth of it.

Working 27 hours a week at McDonald's while going to college and dealing with emotional bog-downs really had amped up the stress levels near to the breaking point. That was when I saw my heart in a different light. For years my heart had been the battery cell for my romantic endeavors and the blood-pump that gave me erections. Kinky right? Now I felt it beating out of my chest regularly. Pain increased with every deep breath, though I still felt deprived of oxygen. It seemed to grow worse every time I stepped into work and experienced the fast paced mind-raping that is McDonald's. After a few days of this I let my mom in on what had been happening and she suggested I get my blood pressure checked out.

As I walked into Russ's supermarket, I could already feel the organ in my chest pounding against my ribs, reverberating into my ears and giving me a sick feeling. The blood pressure machine told me that I was in stage two hypertension. "Oh, shit," I remember saying out loud as an elderly couple stood nearby. I took it several more times and it gradually decreased as I sat still and manually regulated my breathing. But the instant I stood up to leave, the beating came back. As I stepped into the parking lot, it hit me. "I'm afraid". An emotion that seemed foreign to me. This feeling wasn't one generated by imaginary axe murders hiding in my closet or a demonic face appearing to me in my sleep. I was confronted with MFing real life. I knew at that moment I for sure wasn't invincible. The thought was like a fish finally surfacing, only to be clubbed to death.

Since then I've been seeing doctors and doing the things it takes to figure out what's wrong. Things like peeing in a cup, getting poked by needles, getting probed in the ass, receiving an ultrasound on my kidneys (okay, so I might have made one of those up). But now I think everything is going to be alright. Caffeine has been my best friend and now it looks like it may need to become more of an acquaintance or a weird-ass distant relative who you wanna see maybe once a year, if that. I'm supposed to cut that stimulant out of my body because that tends to be a major problem in young kids these days I guess. However, not even that will slow me down. Life requires some evolution, whether in character or in physical.

Sometimes change requires a wake-up moment to take place, like I said above. The bottom line is, I'm not invincible. One day my time will come to leave this place, but until then, I'll do my best to stick around, God willing.

Got an eye opening experience you'd like to share? Post it in a comment below...

For real.

Dear Sister

Lyrics to a song I wrote for my Brazilian "sister" after a short month-long visit.

I hate farewells
But what the hell
None of these tears
Will ever help
I hate these hugs
Last chance embrace
Don’t wanna think
About your sad face
Its not like
I thought you’d stay
But it still sucks
Everything is gay
I’ll say goodbye
With these damp eyes
I wish you’d never have to leave
I’ll remember
My dear sister
You’ll be back someday
We’ll have a laugh
About memories
From years long past
So the time has come
I hate this part
But the ones we love
Are always in our heart
Its not like
I thought you’d stay
But it still sucks
Everything is gay
I’ll say goodbye
With these damp eyes
I wish you’d never have to leave
I’ll remember
My dear sister

Friday, November 25, 2011

A Finnished Poem

This is a poem I literally wrote in the last hour sitting here at StarBucks with some friends. One of which is a foreign exchange student from Finland, Sam, who insisted I write a poem about him. So here it is.

From Finland with amusement you came
Your fisheyes took in the world around
To America you rode the plane
Flying lower, reaching the ground
I met you on the lake
A quaint day under the sun
We lost you beneath the wake
As you fell from the tube, having fun
You came from lands afar
No knowledge of what to expect
Seeking education for a start
Hoping for memories to collect
Now you have become another friend
Whom I shall remember forever
And even when your journey here ends
I’ll cherish our times together
We’ve discussed life in hot tub water
And stared at stars surrounded by black
From Finland you came, and I’ll be bothered
When you must return and finally go back

Thursday, November 24, 2011


A poem that doesn't rhyme. Try to enjoy it regardless.

I’m a head-full of rage
And a heart-full of passion
I am a child of the King
I have a double-edged tongue
And words like venom
I am a child of the King
I’ve got fists of rebellion
And shoes of purpose
I am a child of the King
I have skin of imperfection
And flaw-filled tissue
I am a child of the King
I’ll breathe deep and breathe my last
Having completed the tasks
Given to me by the King
My worldly self will pass away
Becoming a new creation in a new body
Given to me by the King
Maybe I’ll have wings of gold
And a halo of radiance
Given to me by the King
Someday I’ll be at peace
Contented, body and mind
Still a child of King

Monday, November 21, 2011


I really like writing. Its been a passion and natural outlet of mine for a long time. Ever since I was in first grade, I remembering taking ahold of a pen or pencil and thinking of the possibilities. What stories could unfold onto this paper? Opportunities were endless.

As I've gotten older, writing has become a coping mechanism that lets me express the things I feel inside rather than holding them in and letting them rot. I find the arts, and writing in particular to be an escape. A way for me to try and let go of the things that so often trouble me.

Over the years when I've written things (poetry, short stories, etc), much of the feedback I hear from people starts off the same way. "Are you depressed?" "Is everything okay?" "That's so beautiful... but its so sad". This is usually the case, and I suppose that the comments aren't wrong. I tend to write from places of dark-mindedness and typically emotional despair. We all go through it one way or another and everybody has their own ways of dealing with the "down-ness".

Some people drink to shove the problems down and away. Some like to pretend that what they've gone through hasn't happened. They deny it. Others will fill their hearts and minds with people and lustful desires to try and push out the bad things they feel. Many ways people cope become unhealthy. But still others are responsible with their feelings. They talk it out with a friend. Or maybe see a professional. One friend of mine goes out for midnight runs when he feels crappy. There seem to be more bad ways to deal with emotions than good ways at times. But the bottom line is that people need an outlet of some kind to vent their feelings out of their system and hopefully become better people for doing it.

Sometimes I do unhealthy things to forget my problems. I drink too much pop to try and feel more energetic and not so down. Or I'll eat when I'm not hungry. But the best way is just to let it all out like you may see I do on my blog often. There's nothing wrong with that. Write?

Friday, November 18, 2011

Mount St. Helens

This I wrote recently and finished today about reoccurring bouts of stress I've been dealing heavily with. Particularly at work with a new manager that seems to enjoy pushing me around. I don't know what his deal is, but now he's got a poem written about him. Its serious. Haha.

Controversy in the work place
We stand here, face to face
I, your victim, receive no grace
You have lured me to the edge
Cuz I feel just like Mount St. Helens
Everything’s been shoved below
I can hear the rumbling
The ground beneath is about to blow
Give me a hand
Stick a straw into my head
And let the stress leak out
Let the stress leak out
Give me a break
I’m starting to see red
What could this be about?
What’s it all about?
Pressure, pressure, pressure
My brain is so congested
Thought can’t be digested
You should be arrested
For bringing me to the edge
Pressure, pressure, pressure
You’ve given me reason
To recirculate this rage
Into a calculated reaction
A calculated reaction
Appropriate for the season,
You’ll fall, despite your age
And pay for the infraction
Pay for the infraction
I could have ended this long ago
But I’d rather put on a show
So I won’t hesitate to just let go
When you hang me off the edge
Cuz I feel just like Mount St. Helens
Everything’s been shoved below
I can hear the rumbling
The ground beneath is about to blow

The Devil's LapDog

This is a poem I wrote recently while my grandma's hyperactive, barking shihtzu, Izzy, had to stay at our house for a whole nine days. We call her "Hell on Wheels" when she's not listening.

I have been
Resisting sin
To not stomp upon your back
Under my skin
Digging so far in
Every audible attack
How is it my eyes
See past your size
And straight to your core
You planned my demise
I know you’ve tried
To lock me behind my door
The sonic waves
In which you bathe
Fracture my skull
Aching lobes not saved
Create misery made
The Devil’s LapDog pushes and pulls

LoveSick Symphony

I'm going to begin posting more recent poetry, seeing as I've really been on a roll and accomplishing a lot, which makes me joyous. So here's one that I started on a while ago, but got finished today. Enjoy :)

I met you last night
During a dream filled flight
Vivid and bright
Everything felt right
Sleep found the two of us
In a moment, spontaneous
Revealing years of trust
And feelings, robust
Twas more than an act
For my brain was cracked
Yes it was quite snapped
And so emotion reverted to black
My mind drifted
To the sound of a violin
Found the source
And was shy again
Therefore shifted
My heart’s trickery
To the rise and fall
Of a lovesick symphony
But the notes echoed in my head
Reverberated off walls instead
They bounced and floated like lead
Crushing my chest as I lay in bed
Hungover from dream juice
Neutrons firing so loose
Stalemate-induced truce
Reeling from reality’s noose
Senses dull, though my eyes did dart
In the morning I woke with a start
To find my feelings still in my heart
And us only existing in my art

Thursday, November 17, 2011


     I grew up as a child who never wanted to do things normally like the other kids. Whenever there was a project that could be done in an hour or so, I always had a need inside to go above and beyond the expected. Never an overachiever or a straight A student, the approval of others was rarely needed for my motivation. My own satisfaction and pride was built from self-made goals and achievements. As I've gotten older, this vision of differentness has pervaded my character. Choosing what to wear is a struggle at times as is ordering at restaurants because I hate to have the same as someone else. Its a curse I can't seem to shake. And though it can feel like a burden at times, in other moments of life, it is a blessing to naturally be thinking outside the box and searching for the original.

     Its this new way of thinking and striving for "the better" and "more" that drives me to desire change. I can't stand the thought of settling for something to stay the way it is when all it would take is someone with a passion to change things. This mentality is sparked when unfair or incorrect situations happen around me. One of the main things I see now that I'm older are the politics and corruptness that occur in the world and even in my own church structure. I'm not one to let hypocrites drive me away from a religion that I believe in, but I am a person that is bothered deeply by ridiculous things that go on. I understand things out "in the world". Religions and perspectives are different out there, but in my own religion college and church structure in which I live? It can drive me nuts sometimes.

     A friend of mine that used to work for the maintenance department at my college told me of corruptness that went on there and is still continuing as far as I know. Doing jobs half-ass, poor communication, and spending college money on personal staff projects. That's money that's basically going out the window. Money that some students have to bust their asses off to earn. I know things like this go on all the time. All over the US in all the SDA establishments. And I'm sure they go seen but unchecked by higher up people that are woven into politics somehow.

     Its moments like these when I vent out all these feelings of change and reform that I see another side of myself. The artsy, easy going guy that I am becomes someone else. A fiery, passionate, fist shaking, finger flipping revolutionary. It makes me think that if I lived back in France during the rebellions or in the US colonies during revolution, I would have thrived as a reformist or something. There's just something in me that wants to leap out of a chair and call people out on their bullshit. I believe in the love of the Lord and His acceptance, forgiveness, and new life. Even for the people that get under my skin. Especially them. And He's still workin' on me in my flares of upset-ness and such.

So this random blog entry is for my readers out there. All two of them so far it seems. Me and my mom -___- If there's anyone out there following any of this craziness, leave comments!


A poem inspired by winter a couple years ago coupled with a message.

A blanket of white covers the ground
A vivid and blinding site all around
Sitting there waiting for the victims to fall
A silent killer, making no sound
Falling distractions, specks of snow
They stare upon it as it goes
Until it fills passed their knees
The piles get bigger as they grow
The weather, inclement as it may be
Provides amusement for those like “we”
Who stand to watch in wonder
Continued contentment, in mystery
Frozen limbs on icy pine trees
Brittle branches snap around me
They stare at the sky,
Fixating a gaze with their eyes
The snow continues to fall
They’ll all be buried alive

Frozen limbs on icy bodies
Brittle souls collapse around me
For the spectators are engrossed
Taken in by diversion, witnessed by most
Skilled sleight of hand takes place
And in moves cold that nature doth host
Be warned, those that live in the heat
So a dismal fate, you shall not meet
Those living in the snow, live too fast
They fall on their faces from deceit
For the beauty around them is all too grand
To go back to warmth’s safety, though it be bland
Entertainment draws them in so close
That they may be led to a trap; led by hand

Tuesday, November 15, 2011


This is another one of my personal favorite poems I've done. As opposed many others, it focuses on the letting go process instead of dwelling on the pain, which is more important to me.

I put you in a box today
All the items stowed away
Every picture, there to stay
I piled it together
Safe from the weather
Every single lost letter
Baubles and trinkets; Odds and ends
Vague reminders of past time spent
I never want it back, here or then
You will remain on my closet’s top shelf
Above all my shirts, ties, and belts
Until I burn you, finally freeing myself
You’ll be put in a box someday
By another man, another way
Lowered into the ground to stay
I don’t care to be there for the show,
When you’re laid to rest, because I know
I'm so happy I finally let you go


A poem written out of hurt after a break up. The hurt turned into something else in the poem "Box".

My dear, I believe our duet is done
Our show was without flaws
Still I hear the applause
My love, the time has come
To pursue solo careers
Share songs with other ears
I’ll miss the way we sang
Now our act ends and the lights fall
Perhaps we’ll meet again at the curtain call


Lyrics for a song I wrote during the depressing time leading up to graduation. Particularly inspired by the sailor-swearing Michael and I exchanged to cover up the knowledge that our high school days together were over. I combined truly heart felt feelings with an edge of humor to remind me that everything's not over. Its just a new chapter in life. Originally performed at the Harders' Home for an audience of four.

I will not be here
For you next year
We had our time, had our fun
Now most of it is just about done
I never thought it’d have to end
And I’d say “Bye” to all my friends
Wish that we wouldn’t part
And you could hide in my heart
So fuck you and your words
It’ll only make this worse
I will miss you
Much more than you even know
I’ll embrace these new fears
And we’ll shed some heart-felt tears
Even when bones be frail
These memories won’t be for sale
Mikey don’t look so sad
This will go, it’ll all pass
Life is pain, until we die
So share the love, then say goodbye
So fuck you and your words
It’ll only make this worse
I will miss you
Much more than you even know

Monday, November 14, 2011


A poem written some time ago, yet one of my personal favorites. Inspired by the obvious.

She hides in silence
Keeping me away,
Becoming an island,
Yet still I stay
I approach you and hit a wall
I want to crush it and watch it fall
She’s a mystery
One of a kind
We’ve got history
And a similar mind
We made a breakthrough that night
Our fingers joined under moonlight
Her apathetic barricade
My bubbly shield
Tis our mask, made
Resistance to be revealed
My hopes and fears combine into a curse
You’re just like me only worse
Ever since that time,
I’ve wanted it back
Her hand in mine
Beneath starry black
But time goes by, opportunities escape
You and I are left here to wait

She’s a closed door
A lunar eclipse
Time for action before
The opportunity is missed


A poem I wrote for Halloween of 2011 which was loosely inspired by a TDWP song.

Brutal chainsaw
Explicit shotgun
I’ve got a horde of zombies
Under midnight sun
Causing all this pain
No wonder they love
Living in my brain
Silver bullet
Wooden stake
Wolves and leeches burrow
Scratches and scars they make
Bleed out of my heart
They thrash and rip
Tender pieces apart
Metal crucifix
Glassy mirror
Medusa and her demons
Have set up residence here
I stare at snakes
Feeling stone paralysis
My attention they take
Trick or treat
Sugary candy sweets
Kids in ghastly costumes
At my door I do meet
They dress as the dead
“Oh children if only you knew
The monsters in my head”

Saturday, November 12, 2011

Locker 35

A poem I wrote reminiscing on my sophomore year as the summer began.

Time for summer
It's kind of a bummer
I'll try to make it through
The best memory was you

A tattered stage
Not acting my age

An echoing gym
The lights are dim

Exchanged words in dodgeball
The love birds in study-hall

Emotional negations
And math equations

Morning classes
And hall passes

Slamming lockers
And two teen rockers

Frustrated teachers
And empty bleachers

Stomping shoes on stomped up floors
Squeaky markers on squeaky boards

Broken pencils and broken hearts
The "what-if's" that never could start

Fogged windows
And the rain outside
Droplets on the glass
Like many tears cried
Over drama and grades
And choices made

No more pretending
The year is ending
Summer is here,
This much is true.
But the best memory was you.

Junior year, here I come...

Reproba Luminarium (False Light)

A fleck of glitter fell to me
Just a fragile piece of art
This tale began with a choice
So I held the speck close to heart

The glitter can't help, and it can't see
It can't change the fact that it's stuck to me

It won't wash off
It won't go away
Do I want it to leave?
Or shall it stay?

So pretty and bright
On my hand it alights
To sting skin and sight,
Bring sickness, pain, and blight

Cuz it made me feel good
I felt ever so fine
I chose to let it stay
It sparkled and shined

Now the glitter can't help, and it can't see
It can't change the fact that it only hurts me

Though it catches not my eye
That false light that gleams
It looks appealing from afar
Those treacherous light beams

Red, green, and a little bit of white
It came ever so quiet on that lonely night
And even though my prayers I do recite,
The glitter glares and it's still not alright

Burned out I lay awake
Pondering, "What shall I do?"
But answers do not come
And so this misery ensues

So leave me alone
Just let me be
This tale ends with a choice
Get away from me

Colorful Christmas

This is a festive poem I wrote as an attempt at being more lighthearted and not too dark in my writing.

I wished for a white Christmas
But it could not be so
For that fat man Santa
Did not send us any snow
I wished for a green Christmas
But it wasn’t meant to be
For as I hung the X-mas lights,
I burned down our great green tree
I wished for a black Christmas
But was not heard by Santa
For Davis could not come and visit
He was stuck in Louisiana
I wished for a red Christmas
But it just didn’t come true
For while flying in the cold weather,
Rudolph’s nose turned blue
I wished for a blue Christmas
But the sky didn’t lend its light
For clouds came over the stars
And covered up their blue light
I wished for a yellow Christmas
While laying awake in bed
But then wished it wouldn’t have happened
For my dog peed upon my head


In memoriam today; People reminisce
Flowers in hand; Held to remember
The ones loved; Those resting beneath
Time to plant; New memories
Rain will come; Nurture the seed
From the sorrow; New life springs


One of my many love-sick-high-school poems.

Fleeting thoughts
Slip my mind
They chase around
But never fulfill
Is out of place
I’m alone here
Behind a face
The U-shaped piece haunts
Until it returns
All is incomplete
Like a pool of
Deep emotion
Tides push and pull
Sinking under
The U-shaped piece haunts
Until it returns
I still will wander
Missing a piece
The puzzle apart
Tears to shreds
Chokes out the heart
The U-shaped piece haunts
Until it returns
All remains undone


Lyrics I wrote while a Sophomore on a plane going to see my friend in South Carolina.

Way above the earth
And I’m all alone
Choking at the thought
I’m so far from home
But when you’re this high
Speeding through the sky
Not much else matters

Don’t worry about me
Leaving you was hard
Coming back will be easy
So I’ll return when the time is right
But until then
I’ll keep flying into the light

This land is strange
So far away
I have nowhere to run
All I can do
Is keep going toward the sun
But when you’re this high
Speeding through the sky
Not much else matters
Don’t worry about me
Leaving you was hard
Coming back will be easy
So I’ll return when the time is right
But until then
I’ll keep flying into the light