A Blog Floating in the Ocean

Almost 7 billion people
Upon this small blue planet
Each one somehow connected
With a digital leash.
Iphones and aps
Macs and raps
Facebook and Myspace
Wired to hellspace
Almost 7 billion people
And here's a poetic note
To what end you may ask
None but my own
Almost 7 billion people
And yet, I feel so alone.

Sitting in the Sand

I happened to wander
On a neat summer's day
To a place I could ponder
Upon a wide open space.
There I rested my thoughts
And sat in the sand
Not seeing much
Just the sun and the land.
Blinded by emotion
My eyes filled with tears
For what I knew not
But it was something I feared.
I had always been told
"You must be strong."
Like there was no other option
Any other option was wrong.
So I tried and I tried
And I tried to carry on.
I read books and ate my vegetables
I lifted weights and overcame obstacles.
I became strong
for the people I loved
For myself, for my sister
For my mother and father.
I became strong
and I learned a good self defense
I taught it to children
It made perfect sense.
But on this day that I wandered
To sit in the sand
Not seeing much
But the sun and the land
I happened to look down
and I saw all of my scars.
And it made me so sad
Because I had gotten so far.
"You must be strong."
Echoed in my head
As I remembered the pain
Even the ones that didn't make sense.
I looked to the sky with tears in my eyes
And I asked, "How can I be strong?"
I've seen things unnatural
And felt hands on me like knives.
I've been raped, I've been beaten
I've been been worked on like a corpse in the night.
I became strong, regardless.
I taught it to children
But it didn't make any sense.
I would stutter and shy
What a hippo crate
What a lie.
"You must be strong."
Even when it doesn't work
Even when all the self-defense in the world
Won't touch against dirt.
So I grabbed a handful of sand
And I sifted it over my scars
I cried and I cried and I cried
Because I remembered the pain.
"You must be strong."
Echoed its annoyance
For myself, for my sister
For my mother and father.
The sand didn't cover that pink
Stretch of skin.
I guess when you hurt it so much
It rolls right off again.
And that's when I learned
Today sitting in the sand
That all of the pain in the world
Can't by buried again.
"You must be strong."
Still haunts me like an echo.

Isn't time something
a bit like a tickle
you laugh hard at first
but then it gets fickle

Wouldn't it be nice
if life was a pickle
Not too sweet; not to sour
A bit in the middle

it comes, it goes, this I know oh oh

I have not much to live by
And less that I can call my own
We are all but small stories
Underneath the skin and bone.

This I know, this I know oh oh.

When we are dead and buried
The stories will be your own.
To whose ear will hear
The triumphs and angels playing thrones.

It comes, it comes, this I know oh oh.

For the grass cares little
But for the blowing of the wind
And your neighbor's ears are fickle
In and out again.
A friendly cat might prance on by
And lift a sassy tail to air
But upon the hearing of your story
Would stop, flirt and flair.

It goes away and comes again, this I know oh oh.

You could tell your friend
The stories you were able
 But to them would be response
As if it were a fable.

It goes it goes, this I know oh oh.

And should our lives come to war or famine
And the stories turn from dirt and glutton
And crows feet come
To your eyes like beggars
This I know, this I know
The poets, preachers and painters
Are all but the same
And water comes freely from the river
Blood within your veins.
The truth will flow but only a little
To the prudish and disdain.

Me an Chad :D

The Four Storks

There were four great storks

That came from the north

Circled round my head

And settled thus forth.

Where do you come from?

I asked in denial

For surely such birds

Come but from the Nile

And the eldest of which

Had a beak long as time

Gave a long quivered "KA!"

And a toothless old smile.

We come from the Earth

He said, with small squinty eyes

We are the beginning of time.

When the universe converged,

we were the rhyme.

What did he say? I was caught unawares

I was staring at their wing span

A citizen unprepared.

We are but the seasons.

Winter is my name.

Spring is the youngest of us all

And Summer is the most tame.

If you want to see our colors,

Fall is the one to ask.

His plumage is of rainbows

A very noble task.

Baffled as much

By the talk and the banter

I looked upon the birds

And gave a bit of laughter

So why do you fly here

Of all places.

There is nothing for you here.

Old man winter has no season

And your tame summer has no fear.

Spring is but a faded thought

Like an antique picture

Lost and bought.

Fall came once to show his feathers

But lost them all

In a casino measure.

So I ask again old stork

For there is no use for you now.

Why do you come, and how?

It was not for your eyes

Or your eyes alone.

We come to take our nature back

For true beginnings are our throne.

Time it seems

Has forgot to turn

And your eyes it seems

Doth burn and yearn.

For something though you know not what

Something you forgot

Something you never bought.

And here we stand

Four storks on the fence.

One North, One South

One East, One West.

We are the direction.

We are the way.

We are the measure time forgot.

That you led astray.

poem

When your lying on your death bed

Atop stacks of gold piled high

Will you care whats beneath you

Or where your priorities lie

When all that's behind you

Lays buried in snow

And all that's in front

Is black and unknown.

Who's hand will you hold

Not the piles of gold.

Not the weeds in the garden

Or flowers in the snow.

The hand that you seek

will be too broken to show

Crying somewhere lonely

Deep in the acid soil

For which you sowed.

Don't let what's important

Whither black and grow cold

Lest the eve's final moments

Leeks acid from their seeds.

And the great size of your heart

Which I know to exist

Dies bitter and scared

Unloved and unaware.