Scene 8: Single

Seek
find
greet
approach
touch
Shake
kiss
walk
hide
bed
Lie
sleep
creek
wake
look
wonder
see
Shake
plea
deny
weep
Bang
Sleep

Scene 7: Prayers of Another Trinity

The coconut clouds
And effervescent eyes
Of mosaic glass proud
And desirous green guise
She beams

The goldenrod rays
And twin dancing stars
Of long bated days
And futile, empty wars
She dreams

The amber tainted hopes
And magenta studded prayers
Of inescapable slopes
And dusty, neglected layers
She screams



So I've lived in my dorm for two weeks now. Classes started a week ago and the weekend is coming to a close.... Well, as much of a close as anyone considers 5 o'clock in the afternoon to be.

Life away from home is incredible... Speaking from personal experience, I've never really lived away from home from an extended period of time. Never stayed with a relative for the summer. Never went on an extended trip with a friend. So this is entirely new for me.

And it is enlightening.

So much has happened.... I was worried that I may not be able to do this project and see it through. Though it's still very early, prematurely early, to say this, but I feel like I must.

I've simply got a feeling that this will work.

Let's take it week by week.

And so we'll go. Again.

Scene 6: Fifth-Degree

Parading down from vehicles’ hotwiring
Laughing up flames and fingertips firing
Sweltering, sizzling, and simply expiring

Red devils dance and sparks sing
And fires circle and furnaces swing
Melting and smelting simply everything



Arizona is so, so, so hot.

Scene 5: Street Corners

A woman came up to me and
asked
for a second
I looked at my watch
and gave her the hand

A man came up to me and
asked
for a hand
I looked at my wrist
and gave him my watch

A girl came up to me and
asked
for a penny
I looked at my pocket
and gave her a thought

A boy came up to me and
asked
for a game
I looked at myself
and gave up my day



It's been one of those days.

Still.

There's beauty in the mundane.

Scene 4: White on Blue

Champagne stains
On cyan skies
Sweet marmalade
And silver ties
Holding wrists
Just so tight
And making lists
For the night

Linen spots
On midnight heavens
Chocolate shots
And cupid lessons
Holding arms
Breathing breaths
Whispering charms
For what comes next

Lemon beams
On aqua horizons
Unending dreams
And coupled eyes on
Holding hearts
And sharing time
The perfect art
In perfect rhyme




The day cycles just so nicely....

So nicely.

Scene 3: Unplayed Roles

Swaying in the willowed park,
Fraying leaves and broken hearts
Setting suns on setting eyes,
Empty hands and tearless cries

Dreaming in the drunken dark,
Tulip nights and senseless art
Canvas white and pastels black
Of weightless hands and heart attacks

Sinking in the starless bark,
Window panes and uncast parts
Huddled knees and ankles tight
Of fractured colors once so white



I don’t really know where this came from.

However, I suppose angst is constantly in the hearts of teenagers, even if they’re having the time of their lives.

It’s not that I’m lonely. On the contrary, I’ve never felt closer to people, or life.

So I guess I’m making a tribute to what I was missing before I found it, as I know so many others are looking for it.

But don’t worry.

I’ll wait for you to join me on this side.

Scene 2: Three Little Gods

Three little gods woke up one day
And three little goddesses got up to play
The gods watched the girls with love in mind
As the girls pranced and danced for flowers to find

The three little gods decided to make
The three little goddesses something next wake
To romance and tease their gay little hearts
A promise they made, and so did they start

The first swooning god, on that first little day
Made music from air, made music to play
Halls of allure, and operatic gold rays
Of such immaculate songs, with diamond details
To sing and to charm, to praise and to hail
Though to his little goddess, proved to no avail

The next love-struck god, when it came to his turn
Created shows of light, and the stars that burn
And constellations of promise to show his deep yearn
Such beauty and hope filled that lonely sky
Filling the horizon so deep and so high
Though it resulted in nothing but a heartless ‘Goodbye’

The third little god, went up to his goddess
Slowly and shyly, to follow his brothers’ antics
Presented to her, flowers for her quaint bodice
Blue bells, they were, so pure to behold
Such petals they held, far richer than gold
She smiled and took them, and to her heart did they hold


So I already have homework. Which is a terrible nuisance, to say the least.

However, a reading for my class called the Human Event called for old creation myths around the world. And it really got me thinking.

There was a story from the Bantu people in the Congo River region of Zaire that had an interesting story about the creator Bumba, and how one of his sons, Chedi Bumba, wanted to create something beautiful, but only managed to create the bird known as the kite.

And that really just stuck with me. How strange some stories are, and yet how memorable they become.

Simple things, then again, are often the best.

Scene 1: The Sparks of Autumn

The spark in autumn
From the embers of summer
Such a thing to remember
In the shades of September

The breezes of autumn
From the tempests of summer
Such a high that possessed
In the feelings most blest

The droplets of autumn
From the monsoons of summer
Such a sky in maroon
From the shades of the noon

The pebbles of autumn
From the towers of summer
Such a memory empowered
From the love-filled hours



Only and hour and half left of today.

Not a good way to start a project that needs daily updates.

But life is just so amazing right now that I don’t ever want to leave the new people that I’ve just met.

It’s so strange.

Thrown into a new surrounding where you know very few people, everyone just seems more willing and friendly than I’ve ever seen them.

And though classes have started today, nothing has really changed yet. Time keeps moving and we keep moving, but we’re still living like we have been for the last week.

It’s amazing, really. How all this works.

But why question something wonderful?

I’m just going to ride it and see how high this coaster will go.

Scene 0

Follow me through lands of ink,
Paper and stories,
Love and grief
Watch my wand paint portraits of them,
You and me,
Now and then



Life.

It’s such a complicated, mysterious, beautiful thing.

At its brightest, it steals the unknown.

At its darkest, it steals your soul.

Many find that the pubescent mind is short-sighted, arrogant, and over-dramatic. They find that the actions and reactions in our life are drawn out and exaggerated like some beachside caricature. But mostly they find us to know nothing, think of nothing, and do everything. Or, so they claim to have found.

But it’s simply because we have nothing else to which we can refer. We do not have years of heartache under our eyes or decades of life in our veins. But what we do have are months of detachment in our arms and seasons of growth in our bodies. And with what we are given, those months and seasons are what make up the longest years of our clocks.

We are not over-dramatic. We can live only by what we have.

We are not arrogant. We live only by what we ourselves learn.

We are not short-sighted. We live by only seeing what’s important now.

For what’s important tomorrow may never be real.

Live loud. Live experience. Live sight.

And most importantly, live alive.

My freshman year of college has started. I have lived in my dorm for six days already. Life has already started to change. Classes start tomorrow. When that final ingredient is in, this miracle-grow formula of life post-high school will finally take its full effect.

365 days of growth and experience
365 poems of love and despair
365 scenes of the world and its people

1 Year
1 Blog
1 Show

1 Life

Come with me, and we’ll begin.