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

Art

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.

Withdrawals

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

Surreal

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

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

Royalty

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

Write?

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?

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

Revolution

     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!

FrostBite

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

Box

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

Duet

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

Bittersweetish

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

Stalemate

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

Halloween

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”

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

Spring

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

U

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

Fleeting thoughts

Slip my mind

They chase around

But never fulfill

Everything

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

Clouds

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