Life

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Life is but a journey to self,

A mission to conquer ego

And discover who we are

Our passion and our love

A quest for communion

We lust for acceptance

In bleak hopeless world

But we try again and again

Slamming against the brick wall

Often times it hurts

We cry

But failure is death

And death is not an option

So we claw our way to the top

For a brief moment we conquer

But our wax wings melt

And we shatter on the rock

We pick up the pieces

Duck tape heart leaking

And we search for ourselves

Try to tap into our power

But we are weak and drained

Our scarred heart beats still

We pick ourselves up and climb

Pushing our ego like Sisyphus

Picture Poem: Melancholy Winter Night

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The Lonely Bench

 

Soft light bathes the blue dark with radiance

The landing of the snow echoing soundlessly 

A whisper wind sighs through the skeleton trees 

forgotten dreams walk the melancholy night

remembering leaves dancing in brighter days

but the night soon swallows the memory of the sun

as the moon fades to nothing

and left is the plastic light muted by feathered wishes

white kisses caressing the cold earth

 

A bench is there under the soft light

casting a shadow that fades to night

its face sprinkled with sky kisses and little girl wishes 

the rough surface scarred by love and hate and desparation

and memories of warmth as lovers lay entwined

or a beggar shivers and presses himself against the bench

hoping to capture the leftover warmth of the lovers embrace

the bench caught dancing leaves dying 

and showered in tears of joy and pain and rain

but now it is empty and forlorn

a faded silhouette being consumed by night

the faded M and R scratched on it’s surface covered

by a blanket of soft coolness and casual distance

 

The bench is alone

stark in the soft light of the winter night

Lonely and longing 

Sleeping and dreaming 

of sunny days when the wind danced with the leaves

But now the bench is alone

on a melancholy winter night

 

 

 

Worst Day

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Well, I was in Kenya until recently working from my laptop. I started a blog after I was prompted by some of my friends and it has been a fantastic experience. I posted most of my work that I wrote while in Kenya and the response was really uplifting. 

Through all this I was so excited because I knew once I came back to the States I would break out the mother lode. I had all my work since 3rd grade stored in my computer and I was really excited to revisit, share and get feed back on my writing. This computer literally had everything, my triumphs and high moment along with some of the darkest times of my life. All chronicled in black and white and emblazoned with funny titles.

This morning I was finally ready to start the adventure of sorting through my work for some gems and laughing at all the poems and short stories I used to think were gold. At first search I find nothing. Unperturbed I keep searching because I knew I was pretty private about my writing and hid it well. After literally tearing through my computer for an hour and finding nothing, I finally break and ask my mom. 

“Oh yea, the computer crashed and your dad did a clean sweep and re-installed everything.” The words clean sweep echoed through my mind over and over again like some monkey playing cymbals in a bad dream. Clean sweep, clean sweep, clean sweep. 

Everything that I am and I have ever written was stored on that computer. My hopes, my dreams, my tentative story ideas that I secretly thought were brilliant but never told anyone, my maturing as a boy to boy man to man boy to man and my growth as a person and a writer. Everything. And now it’s gone. 

 

Fool’s Friend

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I’m searching for a friend

I used to have one but I think I lost it

I’m scrambling up and down

Looking in cabinets and in dish racks

I even pulled out my book of faces

And scanned desperately through the pages

Of faces looking up at me

But I couldn’t find my friend

How can this be?

Just yesterday it was smiles in the hallway

And secret inside jokes

But now it’s just a face in my book

And a memory that grows dimmer every second

Was it ever real, my friend?

I’m desperate, throwing everything out in my search

My goals and dreams lie on the floor in a pile

Ignored in my quest to find a friend

And at the bottom of my drawer of desire

I see a glimmer and I pounce and grab

But it’s a false alarm, a fool’s friend yet again

Where are you friend?

I have been calling out for you

But maybe you don’t understand my language

I can’t find you but I won’t give up

Maybe it was never my job to search 

instead I’ll gather my dreams, hopes and goals

straighten them up and try them on for size

i think I will even go on a trip somewhere

and hopefully I will stumble across you

half buried somewhere like gold

Paa Ya Paa Poem 1

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To understand this poem, I recommend you first take a look at this: https://patheticwithpotential.wordpress.com/2012/05/05/a-great-day-africas-soul-on-display/

 

The colors dance on canvas

each a moment gem frozen

shards of our shared soul history shattered

and smeared on paper in vibrant hues,

greens, reds, blues and yellows

the dark brown paint ochre 

of our bodies gleaming 

our life written in a millions of words

then imbued with life 

and made to dance in infinite silence

each moment a forgotten memory

an intimate scene undressed

as we peer at the mysteries and try,

striving, our hearts and minds struggling

to connect as we push against the veil of ignorance

to recapture our bound soul and by looking

free it,

setting the color alight to burn bright 

within us

A Great Day: Africa’s Soul on Display

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I went to a small rustic art museum in Kenya with a friend and I was simply delighted. It was a bit out of the way, just a small house with some really scenic vegetation surrounding it. The director is a delightful old man whose love of art and the African culture was very evident. It was called Paa Yaa Paa.

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I apologize for the really bad quality pics…but I am not a photographer and I was using a cell phone as my photo taking agent. But these are the pictures I took of some of the art work:

I intend to do a poem for a few of these pieces. If you are interested in me doing a poem on a particular piece or if you are inspired to do one yourself please post on the comment and I will post it so everyone can see. If you are ever in Kenya stop by and experience this Paa Yaa Paa first hand.