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Aug 29, 2010

0 Soliloquy for Another : Poem

In the backdrop of stage, as characters freeze and time stops, I breathe and want.
Breathe and want to express what my love refuses, out of stubbornness or pride, or singularity of her life.
There she's caught, in poise and form, wondering not whats next or present or what just past her by.
Therefore, in-between heaven and hell of time, I speak to this audience, I now can comprehend with my ears and eyes.
To speak this soliloquy for another.

She wears white, just as white wears black, caught up in her own ambiguity, between here and there.
What does she know of despair or beauty, with pupils always in shadow, and shadow always beauty.
She knows not my angst, my love, my ever glancing eye, what power my heart beats- beat, to live such a lie.
That, I, would certainly die to protect such a flower from a withering world.

The world withers around her, each soul an alleyway, grimy and full of- ever such decay.
There are no delusions within her, shes grown accustomed to life being this way, and there lies in the beauty.
Beauty in the darkness, the abstract shadows, the ambiguity of it all- crossing over to day.
But her world is about to crumble and fall away, from the parchment eyes of an observer.
Her world toss into disarray.

I can remember what her heart spoke moments back, lost in her own thoughts, wondering to and fro, fro and to.
When she glanced, lingering for a second- stared, into my ever knowing eyes, my every knowing heart.
Caught in the twinkle, in the fluctuating pupils, that leaked out for but a moment, that-that...

Aug 28, 2010

1 The Puppet: poem

I'm a branch that denies the tree,
apart yet can never be, can never be.

I grow in loneliness, that I bear,
old and withered, the heaven is all I can share.

I look up, I look down,
swallowed up by the shadows upon the ground, upon the ground.

Oh, how I wish, I could wonder away,
be hacked down and turned into a man with legs

A man assembled from the wooden blocks, from a carpenters hand,
into a puppet that can love and dance, from my strings, from my strings.

Then, to be accepted into a new tree, become a new branch,
have a new family that would accept me, for me.

One, I could talk to with all my heart, be apart of,
rely on as my world destroys around me, around me.

Those sleepy nights upon my bed, next-store to the ones I love,
no longer who I was, with words and legs, ready to dance.

Aug 24, 2010

1 Recovering from abuse : My personal views essay

*Disclaimer- This information is my own personal beliefs: I am not a medical professional; This information is not a substitute nor replacement for medical attention. Essay is “As is”.

New self verses old self? What is your old self?
Your old self is made up of: memories, patterns, reactions to incidents and how you process and handle the aftermath of those instances.

We are shaped by patterns: how we expect and accustomed ourselves to react to stimuli. I believe that what patterns we let into us, shapes us greatly. If we allow ourselves to be shaped by negative patterns, then we integrate that into who we are; in order to heal, we must break those patterns with positive ones. Examples are: If you allow people to beat you, don't let them beat you; if you allowed yourself to cuss, retrain yourself from cussing, if someone forced something upon you, don't let it have power, and so on. I believe that once a pattern develops, once you let it occupy time in your life and have power, it will take just as much time to recover from it: don't let it consume you for so long, or at all.

The only way I can see you overcoming it sooner is, register within yourself that you are a completely different person, take the steps that will convince you that your different and tell yourself: you will react differently to the toxic choices you've been making. Then do it. If you can register inside yourself that you are, indeed, a new person; see yourself reacting differently, then I think you can heal faster and not relapse as much.

Relapsing is normal, we all do it, don't let it cause you to forget that you can change. Sometimes we feel hopeless and like our lives are stuck down an irreversible path, we aren't though. When one relapses, think of all the different choices you've made, concentrate on the positive side of yourself, do something completely different then you would have before.

How we react to situations is very important, they define and show proof of who we are: when we fall, we fall hard; when we succeed, we have memories to solidify who we have become. Next time you are tested, show yourself who you are by not falling back into your patterns: it's hard and new choices have new consequences. The whole idea of changing your choices is to break the pattern you've developed.

How you react to the choices you've made is very important: don't let a fall, a negativity, semi-truths and semi-lies shape who you are. How you deal and handle your choices, what you learn from it, is quintessential to your personalities makeup. Decide what you want to incorporate and disregard. We are, what we are. We are, what we believe ourselves to be.

In order to become someone new, you've got to improve yourself where you can rely on your own. You have to be-able to be yourself regardless of whose in your life. You got to be self-sufficient. It's very wonderful to have people lift you up, but you got to stay up on your own two feet. You have to acknowledge that you've changed with substantial proof: proof that will prove to you, you are not completely the same anymore. You have to spend time fighting yourself, until you are victorious. When the effort put into solving the problem exceeds the effort that made it, I believe you will be better. My final words are: it's imperative to remove yourself or take away the destructive lifestyle to recover.

Ideas you can do to help yourself:
Learn and do something new, outside and inside of your element: define new patterns for yourself.
Make a new friend to let you explore your new side more easily.
Try a different appearance out: one that matches who the new you is.
Write a story involving the new you in a fantasy: explore the instances that defined your old self.
Express your emotions in a dairy or poetry: describe how you wish you handled the situation.
Make a list of goals to work on, then work on them.

0 Tracking Chips in School Ids : Personal View

While watching the news on television, I head a concept of adding tracking chips to student id's at a school. A security company wants to use federal money to fund it. Let me start by saying: This is a horrible idea of security for schools. It violates their rights and have numerous unforeseen side affects.

The first thing that comes to mind is, privacy invasion: why should our students be put under policies that we wouldn't subject our adult world to? Also, the idea has the potential of tracking students at home or being hacked for ominous purposes. Futhermore, if we let a system of tracking to be implemented in our schools and it takes, what's next? Even if you aren't a christian, seems like a stepping step to the mark of the beast.

Next, how is this going to work, other then implanting the chips directly into the students flesh? What if you forget your id card? Don't want to be tracked and leave the id somewhere? Want to ditch and have another friend to hold it? The possibilities of unintended side-effects boggle the mind. In order to successfully implement such a system, students will have to be monitored every second of every moment of every day. Students would have to not be allowed to school without an Id. Students would have to replace an id if lost, re-implement them into the system, and of course: probably would cost more money to the poor unfortunate soul.

After all is said, these are just the first thoughts that comes to mind, what didn't I think of yet? Terrifying... What will people think of next? We already, mandatory, require adopted pets to have implanted chips or be killed. Companies already implement hand scanners for hour logging; Cars are low-jacked with anti-theft mechanisms; Now kids are being subjected to possible monitoring cards? How is that really going to stop anything? How would the system handle duplicated chips?

Oh wells, I felt like writing about an actual topic for once..... Sigh, Now I hear that a school in Los Angele's is about to build a luxury high school and New York has luxury school already, while all these other schools are falling apart- Sigh. One word: Demented.

Aug 21, 2010

0 Fantasy poem ; Pandora land.

My Pandora's box, it ticktocks-ticktock-ticktock
telepathy is knocking into my mind
and I can't look away, look from night into day

I'm trapped inside this black room
night dark as the suit of a groom
why can't I put this box down, what within me has it found

Insanity latched onto me, in a way I cannot see
the smooth, cold texture of this metallic demon, serenades to me
a siren locked inside without a key, and I can hear her so perfectly

Beside my bed, upon a stand, I set this cube from my hand
upon my pillow, I depart into a foreign land
to weeping nightmares, psychically linked to Pandora land

P.s.: Originally was trying to write a Gothic opera song (lol).

Aug 20, 2010

0 Draw a Blank Poem

My heart is too occupied, my mind is too blank
I sit here at a canvas: without any words to weep
all I have is- a heart without words and a mind without a brush
therefore, I sit staring beyond myself, into the distance and around the bend
down the dark alley ways, into a world of sin
where Gothic shadows taint- oh, so beautifully
and the world can't keep up or contain it's heart beat

My heart lives in a void, that nothing can fill
it craves to empty itself and splatter itself all over the world
out of my chest, bleeding into the gutters, away from my dreams, away from the whispers and mutters
until I'm in a place, where I no longer need to feel
as if, I need to be running while standing still
that I need to paint, in order to be real

0 My Absence poem

Am I but a dream, tainted by life
destroyed by the knowledge, that I'm just- but a dream
that I can never exist, become what my heart aches to be
is this- the real me

I see this world from beyond themselves
beyond what is, out of sync and incomplete
and there is no similarity between my heart and this
life hides, avoiding me

Under covers upon my bed is where I belong
my head beneath a worn out pillow; my eyes closed out to the light peering in
and my mind occupied with thoughts, too busy to comprehend
my departure, my absence as a man

Aug 17, 2010

0 Cherry Blossoms and Gray Poem

My soul is the wind, blowing her cherry blossom heart
petals whirlpool around me, her kissing lips, I can see nothing else
I stand beneath her in awe, contentment
bound by the force that, there could be no one else

Birds chirp upon the branches
summoning angels down from heaven
down, underneath the foliage, within the soft light of gray
upon the green overgrowth of grass, overlooking a world of dismay

Aug 16, 2010

0 My Broken Heart Poem

My broken eyes
gaping holes
rocks ascended, never to come back home
shards like claws, like tree branches outside, reaching across my life
peering into my- ever so private abode

The cold ice numbs, it glazes blue
that blue tint, the color of a sad melody, musical notes upon my balcony
frozen angel wings, smoke colored breathes puffs like a train
and I'm so accustomed, I don't even seem to care about the pain

Inside the cloak of velvet black air
where mirrors aren't mirrors, showcasing my despair
where shadows aren't shadows, walking between here and there
do I exist, where there is no light to see

Still, oh still, I quiet my thoughts
I try to erase them from my mind, erase them from my mind, erase them from my mind
I try to tell my heart to stop beating, stop beating, oh ever stop beating
but I can't seem to get them to listen, can't seem to get them to care

Therefore sleep calls, sleep softly calls to me
softly steals from me- who I am
steals away the curtains of whats real from whats not
buries me under sheet after sheet of existence until...
until nothing is left of the real world or the real me

Aug 7, 2010

0 My Boo Poem

I say this without dismay
boo oh boo to you on this very day
boo like a ghost in a haunted house
boo like the wind creeping up on a mouse.