Monthly Archives: October 2011

… everything takes time

…. more often than not, I come across a piece of art—music, painting, photo, writing—that compels me to write a piece of my own. Somehow, whatever it is just gets the gears turning in my mind and makes sense of something that I’ve [usually] already wanted to write but just couldn’t figure out how. Sometimes it creates a whole new thought that I’m always thankful falls into place.

Jessie J. If you don’t know the name, shameful; she is one of the most talented people of our generation. Late last year, I was fortunate enough to catch wind of the waves she was creating from across the pond and have been blown away by her ever since I discovered who she was and the various projects she has been behind. I love her entire Who You Are album, as it was on repeat for weeks, but for an entire day I had the song Big White Room on constant cycle. I had heard it countless times before but I guess I needed to experience a few things and not particularly be thinking about them for everything to click. On that day it fired a few neurons in my brain and the right ones connected.

This poem is a byproduct, by no means does it carry the same message as the song [check that out here] but as I touched on before, art inspires art …

 

Great Divide

 

no one told us to never mind how transparent glass could be

that it’s always hard to judge its thickness

so here we are

facing each other after months of crashing

trying to break through

for once we approach with caution

and place our hands to the glass

finger after finger, then palm

only to finally realize how far apart we are

seeing clearly now

the magnitude of empty space

we never really touched despite what was felt

taking steps back

we can see the glass now

tainted by handprints

hanging in limbo

halfway to where they were trying to go

not even bullets in the form of Fuck You’s

can shatter the pane

how could they if the I Love You’s didn’t

our own words ricocheting off unforeseen barriers

we’re ducking from the things we’ve said

causing more damage to ourselves

than was ever intended for the other

the glass thickens as our visions blur with tears

and we’re left wading on opposite sides of the river we cried

ready to tread, fighting not to drown

 

 

… love is not about finding the right person, but creating the right relationship. It’s not about how much love you have in the beginning but how much love you build until the end …

 

 


… too little, too late

… skirting on the heels of yet another controversial decision of the American judicial system, there have been countless discussions about the execution of Troy Davis. In the last weeks of his life, people of all ranks and origins petitioned and rallied for a life that had been fighting for justice for over twenty years; taking to social media and the streets alike, numbers worldwide joined his battle.  Whether these efforts were too little, too late or death at 7:00PM on Wednesday, September 21st, 2011 was always in the cards will never be known but hopefully the loss of this life can spark a much needed flame of acknowledgment and shed light on the need for change.

Having read and seen a myriad of pieces covering Troy Davis’ last appeal and witnessing the lack of a greater movement towards humanity, I was inclined to write a piece of my own taking a mere glimpse at the topic at hand and its overall indications of mankind. Using a case that, unfortunately, may hit close to home for so many people, I’ve put into words the feelings of a somewhat dejected but hopeful soul; someone wishing for that spark …

 

Steak and Lobster

 

who knew testimonies

from the blur of the night

could stand as proof

because no one has ever met a liar before

or a man so hungry

he’d say whatever he had to for a dollar

if words carry weight enough

to negate the absence of evidence

why couldn’t the pleas

of the questionably convicted

break the Board

in a system that’s already been proven broken

just another Little John

fighting for one more day in a place most wish they could escape

another John Doe

nameless and lost in the cycle of a world

focused on all the wrong things

while you worry about the latest trends

he struggles to hold on to what sun on skin feels like

remember how it felt

to sleep in the arms of a loved one

and tries to ignore the what if’s

[he should have left a little earlier]

 

retracing the night

why is he the only person

that can still recall the minutes by seconds

and knows for certain what he saw

nothing

maybe that’s the issue

no one ever really sees anything

we’re too busy protecting our own necks

to notice the real hopelessness of everything around us

pointing blind fingers

implementing false blame

all for a greater purpose

we don’t completely understand

but force ourselves to believe in

how else could one sleep at night

it’s easier to ride the wave

than swim against the current

if you can even swim at all

in these crowded waters

filled with those trying to stay afloat

long enough to catch a break of their own

the trouble is

too many people are fighting for too many things

for a difference to really be made

today we need milk, tomorrow will be honey

a Movement Towards Humanity is too big of a cause

so we march for what seems most important now

chipping away at an iceberg

that emerges from unimaginable depths

leaving fragments of conflicts to be dealt with

until a heavier one smashes into our life’s surface

and demands our attention

 

so where are this millennium’s leaders

everyone is waiting for someone else’s voice to follow

waiting to be in the right place

at the right time

and hoping the moment doesn’t pass too quickly

for them,

and the world,

to grab a hold of it

because we all know

‘wrong place, wrong time’

happens more often than the former

and the price to pay for that is never fair

alas, when the jury reads ‘Guilty’ on the count of murder

order the most expensive meal

surf and turf

after all

you settle the bill with your life

 

 


… the beginning

… i’ve been writing for years. Not necessarily stuff worth sharing or reading but in the most basic sense of the word: to trace or form [characters, letters, words, etc.] on the surface of some material, as with a pen, pencil, or other instrument. I’ve always kept a writing utensil within reach and would shamelessly deface anything available just to get so much as a thought down. Thoughts would then evolve to more expansive ideas and the writing followed suit. Eventually, sentences came together and I found a way to connect the dots between yesterday’s actions and today’s reactions and, when it began to matter most, my emotions became tangible. Whatever it was that I felt was now in front of me, being held in my hands and staring me in the face. Writing became a way to rejoice, to heal, to evoke, to love. It all just made sense.

If you look up the definition of ‘write’ in a dictionary you’ll find close to 20. The one that I adhere to the most is: to execute or produce by setting down words, figures, etc.

By ‘setting down words’ I’ve been able to produce a voice that speaks for the sake of my mind and my heart. The world is full of clamor and each noise is fighting to be heard. Everyone seemingly has something to say about everything, and the conversations go back and forth, so I’ve been left to write.

Enjoy<3

**you’ll notice that this is what is written in the “About” section, but when it comes down to it … this really is what it’s about …