Friday, October 25, 2013

Pish Posh

I am sitting in my favorite place to write: Big Mikes Coffee.

As a approach graduation I am filled with excitement and relief, but a slight discomfort. What will I do with myself once I leave this familiar little bubble of academia? I've known nothing else since 5 years old. Where do I apply the knowledge I have gleaned from this earnest, altruistic institution**ahem shark tank. What do I take? That I was bread to be a fine sheep, to be used for my wool too keep the elite warm and cozy in their mansions under the sea, maybe? I think the most important thing I've learned from college is that it is, in itself,  a life seeding corporation and that capitalism is death.


Love, transforms, takes different faces, but it is always an extension of your pinky finger.

Old shoe mind
you're falling apart
you don't support the body
that lives inside you

If you represent yourself
Then you're infrastructure needs reframing
You're making the heart beat hard
The synapses bear mice
the stress hormones that chew at the pipes
breaking down the concubines
the lawman, and the shrines alike

Mind it is time to form a mouth
and learn when to open
and when to keep closed
and when to eat.

Friday, August 2, 2013

It has been quite sometime since I have written anything. I have been working with the Artist Way by Julia Cameron, a book devoted to helping people cultivate the artist within. The book emphasizes the idea of silencing your inner critic and letting your ideas just flow out of you without judgement. I have realized that that has been a struggle for me for a long time. I do not consider myself a winded person. Aaron whom I'd love to call my boyfriend, but can't seem to bring myself to do it yet is full of words and conversation. He is just bubbling over with information.

What could I say to you that is valuable? I don't know, maybe I can only tell you in a poem or a song. I'll just stake my value there until I can convince myself that I can communicate ideas in a coherent, intellectual fashion.
Casting through the trees,
a black colt
the brush is cutting light
over the rocky folds

It stamps the earths green
It's an ebony gleam
as dark as the mare
from whence it came

we were both treading water
walking in dark brooks
aloof and unafraid
Whilst the beast stole our pain