Coloring by Numbers

Rough I know. The more and more they teach me, the more and more I realize how much I know. Call me an arrogant teenager if you wish.

They fill my head with meaningless bullshit about how to write. I know how to write. I know how to express myself and it is not through following their structures and words. They tell me not to use euphemisms. Their whole structure is a euphemism, it is hypocritical, it is demented, and it is pitiful. I know how to write. And it involves passion. I insert myself into this argument because I care about the outcome. There is everything right with that. I know how to write. And it involves freedom of expression. It involves putting ‘and’ in front of sentences. It involves writing the way arguments appear in my mind and not forcing them to take forms that are unnatural. Their structure is a virus, a euphemism. It is copied over and over again without thought. Hundreds of essays that are all the same. Hundreds of students that never learned how to think because they were too busy copying the goddamned structure. Thinking involves creativity. Thinking is creativity. I bet that most people never have so much as one original thought in their lives and it is because of the damned structure because it is a damned euphemism. It is mindlessly repeating the same thing that when you stop to think about it, just isn’t one bit true. Not one bit. It is utter ridiculousness. I can paint but don’t give me this color by numbers bullshit. Give me a piece of paper and I’ll show you something new as if my life depended on it. Because when it comes down to it, that’s pretty much my existence and as free thinking human being. You say that some students need the color by numbers to do anything at all, I say you’re enabling their stupidity. I know how to write.

I know how to write because I once wrote a letter. It wasn’t beautiful because it had elegant language or because it was long or because it was particularly descriptive. It was beautiful because it was true. It was the Truth as I saw it, wholly and completely, and I had managed to relay it with a little note at the bottom that expressed my love. My letter did not contain euphemisms. My letter had no predominant structure to it. I was copying nothing. I was fulfilling the purpose of language: to express ideas. I believe that meaning should dictate structure and word choice and that word choice and structure should not take precedence over meaning. That is what this damned AP Comp is forcing me to do and I hate it. The only joy that comes from writing in it is the subtle smile I get when I manage to subvert the rules. I know that culture evolves, that perceptions evolve, that beauty evolves, that we evolve, but goddamnit I want to be involved in my mind and how I structure what I think. Reality is fluid. It is cold. It is harsh. But it is what is. And I must say so if I can. Without knowing reality there is no Truth and without truth there is no meaning. Fail me if you wish, but I have succeeded. I know how to write.

Night

I don’t like it but that’s what edits are for.

Night

To find the answers I only need to interpret the night.
Mysterious, dark, and foreshadowing,
it raises more questions than answers,
and to find questions I only need to look at her darkness.

In the personal hell in which we create ourselves,
in love, hope, and longing,
there lies consolation and hope.

Can this be an omen to the future?

People sleep through the night for a reason

I sat under the stars and cried tonight
Because their light was obscured by clouds

It’s interesting to see how it can all fade to black,
and yet clear up in a minute or so

I can’t tell whether I want you beside me,
Or I want you to stay an ideal in my mind.
It’s an interesting question, an unanswerable question
But maybe that’s all there is, maybe that’s the best kind

It’s not so strange I’m writing this tonight,
after all there is always a reason
even if it isn’t to be known

Maybe it’s because I saw the brightest star in the sky fade to black
Only to cause the sunrise tomorrow

An Actual Post…and updated

I’m uneasy right now. I believe that’s the best word to describe how I feel. Right now everything is in check, except my own soul. Usually my mind and my heart can take care of themselves. After all if I am not free in my thoughts and in my love, of what interest or value is my life? I know I’m going to get hurt, and I know it’s going to happen sooner rather than later. In fact it’s already started, I can feel it. I don’t mind though. It’s a beautiful pain, as they say. Maybe I feel bittersweet then? It’s probably a question better left unanswered. However the answer is yes. Life is bittersweet. The yin and the yang define me and make me whole.

A quick note about my habits on writing or revising concerning poetry. When I write a new poem I’ve entered another state of mind. It’s always significant when I do,  even if the chapters of my life aren’t all that well defined to an outsider. Right now I feel like I’ve written both a ton and hardly anything at all. So that should explain a lot…

Her

Sometimes you ask me what I’m thinking about,
Usually I can tell you,
unless the answer is you.

I wonder if I could make you smile,
by playing All The Small Things for you on guitar
or by walking you to English again because no one else would.
Or maybe I could stare at the stars until they ran out of reasons
why I love you.

Whenever you wait for my answer
Whenever I shrug off the question,
know the answer is you.

More edits…

If I Were to be Honest…
mostly a letter

To whom I cry out to in the middle of the night,
I can feel you in this dark hour.
You get me through the nights when I can’t sleep and I don’t feel worth a damn
On nights like this one,
I do not think about you, because you are my thoughts
You reap havoc in my heart where even I tread lightly
But your touch and your smile-
they’re deadly soft
I need you as I need the air
naturally, physically, without thought or reason
To hold you tonight is to have no more questions
it is to be happy, whole, and complete

Breathe

I breathe you in greedily
after all I need you
but my lungs meticulously change what you are
until what’s whole is gone
my lungs throw you back out into the world then,
but I still hold you in my memory,
you’re just the thing that trees breathe in and spit back out,
in order for me to inhale and
survive.

Recent

The hardest thing in the world is to sit next to you and know I can’t have you. You have that effect on me. This is my most recent stuff. Most of it is about a girl (what’s new?). However, it’s really isn’t based on a specific person. It’s more like the idea of an ideal person, if that makes any sense.

——————————————–

On the Void of Many

We step, side by side
looking in the void for
something
But all our mismatched twin souls can do
is look at each other and smile

——————————————–

Untitled

God the stars are pretty tonight.
I know it’s insignificant,
But as I sit here staring at the stars,
It makes me melt a little
To see your eyes staring back.

——————————————–

The Butterfly Effect

A Butterfly can flaps it’s wings
and change the world
And I can write
But I can’t change how you feel
for that is that nature of your soul

Where the word ends, pure emotion begins.

Hell it’s the damn butterfly
with all the power

——————————————–

If I Were to be Honest…
mostly a letter, not a poem

To you whom I cry out to in the middle of the night,
can you feel me?
you get me through the night when I can’t sleep and I don’t feel worth a damn
Do you know what it’s like to know the person that looks like me?
That person is not one I can think about, for she is my very thoughts
She hugs my soul when I am cold
She resides in my mind where even I tread lightly
She makes me feel
She makes me breathe
No, she is the air
For I need her as I need the air
To hold her is to have no more questions for the universe
it is to be happy, whole, and complete

Please ignore my stupidity…

Sigh. The below sounds like I’m a whiny, superficial prep. I’m going to go hit my head against the wall a few times…

Beautiful Pain

“I don’t care what they think of me.”

You are the sum of your actions. Forget this not, for it is true. When you die and head toward whatever God you so deem worthy to believe in, it is your actions that are judged, and if you so believe there is no greater power, your actions are all that will be remembered. You’re not what you make yourself, you are – in the big picture – what people see you as. You can try as hard as you want to make people laugh, if nobody does, you’re no comedian. Take heart the words thrown or given, they have meaning, no matter how cruel or sarcastic, they are there.
You are the sum of your actions, yet your actions are a canvas for other to paint their view on. Then, in the end, number one ‘aint nothin’ but the opinion of the man.

“I like it, this beautiful pain.”

The Yin Yang. In all evil there is good, and in all good there is evil. Opposites exist to create one another, without good there is no evil, without pain there cannot be pleasure. All is equal, all is balanced in the end. If you’ve ever been truly heartbroken, you know the one. You can’t move, you can’t think. You sit and wait for something to make that hole in your chest stop falling, making itself even deeper, darker, harder to bear.
That, my friends, is one of the most amazing feelings you can come across, in order to feel such immense and terrible pain, you have to have been truly happy. Be thankful for that pain, it’s a validation of your joy. Yes, the joy has passed to cause the pain, but in order for the pain to persist there is more of the good headed you way.
Chin up my friends, you’re all hurting, I can’t say I know how you feel, I do know that one day you’ll get that karmatic kick you all need, you’ll be so happy you’ll forget I wrote this, you’ll forget this hurt ever existed.

I’m still here, I’m still waiting. I’ll push on and see through to tomorrow, all to keep that smile on your faces. I’ve had my pleasure and my pain, I’ve seen both edges of my universe, or as far as they’ve expanded. My actions, meant to help heal and uplift you, are here for you to judge.

So lower you heads and weep into the night, and remember the immortal words of the great Leopold “Butters” Stotch, “I’d rather be a crybaby pussy than some stupid faggy goth kid.”

I’ll be here come tomorrow, so please, sit and watch the sun rise with me, and forget what plagued you last night.

-Hawk of www.xenith.net

As much as I absolutely hate it when people quote stuff and put that crap in their blogs because they’re too stupid and lazy to have an original thought, this seems truly noteworthy enough to make an exception. I like this. It’s true and original. The world needs some truth and originality.

Well I’ve been reading over some old posts of mine and I’ve discovered one thing that I started a discussion that over 4500 people have looked at. Don’t know why I put that here but I rather think it’s hilarious that I raised a point in 8th grade that around 4500 people thought was interesting enough to read. I guess it does raise an important point about the internet. You are completly judged by what you write. It doesn’t matter if your black, white, or a girl or a guy no one knows. Funny how the internet, perhaps one of the least personal inventions ever conceived is where prejudice dies.

Sigh. School. The official day care center of the state. More on this tomorrow.

The Arbitrary Certainty

The Arbitrary Certainty:

Staring at the sky,
I catch a snowflake in my hand,
It melts,
and drops to the ground

How are you doing now?

As the whirling complexities touch my face,

Who is to say why?
There simply is,
and always will be,
the cold beauties,
the snowflakes

Landing in my hand

Well today I’ve been trying to improve a song I wrote this summer, and utterly failing. Writing is petty much not going well at all lately. My mind is in too many other boring aspects of life to concentrate long enough to write something half-decent. Otherwise life’s looking better. The before-mentioned problem is improving so hopefully my mind will be clear soon. Anyway you can find my lyrics here, and an mp3 here.