Pope Inspired

Much thought unto the poets of the past

And how their style tends to transcend and last.

From imperial consort to modern King

That glide o'er the city on Time's broad wing.

Here from these poets I channel their style

Though in my echo I cannot beguile

As I take words and with them forge a crown
I see heroes of old, scarred and beat down

A tribute to the dead styles of old
My use of self to be considered bold
As Pope did not use "I", nor talk of self
In changing times we must adapt and shelf
Certain techniques of old that will not do,
Use of "thee" and "thou," "aye" and "gardyloo"

In Progress

A View From 3rd Floor Mason Hall

The grounds below are empty today,

Odd, per the usual crowded walks

It elicits an emotion of eerie esplanades

Where the ghosts of graduates past

Once paced in passing en route to class.

And ways of thought have been lost,

From the mind of the couplet,

Dying as dreary as the dismal droplets

Of snow and slick streets and starless skies

A blanket above the busy blind bodies below.

I am Worried

I am worried,
That the best is going to pass by
Like the aimless freeway traffic
Lane change, speed up, slow down
Exit 282. Time for a slowdown.
Stop and get some coffee, recharge
Think about the coffee, what it does
A chemical, a drug--approved by the FDA
Beans with caffeine, from South American fields
Picked by the penny, sold by the dollar.
Somebody, somewhere is getting very rich
Starbucks, bucks, bucks, tall, grande, venti
"I am but one small instrument."
In the scheme of the bigger machine
Necessary? Vestigial. Evolved. Outsourced.
I get back on the highway, multitasking
Ten and Tall...black, no sugar, no cream.
Craving the speed, the rapid increase
In flow, around me, part of me.
The speedometer wavers, or is it my eyes?
I am worried.

Blank Page

I think the color in which I'm most afraid,
Is white.
No, not afraid, but rather...lost.
Caught up in the whiteness,
With the potential for everything,
Yet extrinsically showing nothing.
A blank slate--literally.
Limitless except through the binds of my mind.
A marathon or sprint, the feeling is the same,
And until I've left my footprints,
Tracks in the form of words...
Then I've left the map unfinished,
And just as shadowy as the milky white
That lingers on every new page.

A Fresh Start

Somehow I feel more civilized,
When I wake to the sunrise
Much like I did on today.
Where ablaze was God's heart,
If only a sliver or part
To bring new hope for what may.

The Jack of All Trades/Identity Crisis

I have no and all identities
And to what it is that you long,
I belong.
A friend chameleon of sorts.
Blending in, I'm everybody,
And nobody; a pretender--
But whatever you need.
I echo your past, and mimic
the present. Eventually
Our futures will intertwine
Inevitably, invariably.
Because it is in each I meet,
That I find a new bit of life.
A detail or perception,
To make me better, absorbing.
I'm not here to use you or be used,
Because this thing, it is
A two-way street, a give-and-take.
So let us laugh, talk music, be happy
Unless you're unhappy
With yourself, which means
Unnecessary Hell, for us both.
And if you find a fault in me,
It is a reflection of what is wrong
With you.
I am everyone,  I am no one
I am just one
Clue to me, clue to you.

Long Time, No Write

Sorry guys, I just spent the last week coding a new website instead of blogging, though we both know I'd rather be here with my faithful readers. I haven't written in a little bit so let's see what I can come up with on the fly:

Chains

Empty.
But only in my stomach.
Alone.
But only in my mind.
Longing.
But only for the night.

A stomach that seeks out fulfillment.
A mind that seeks out nourishment.
A night remembered as long.
I don't need much.
Because the rest comes easy.
Like I just forgot it from before.

Need.
What I try and fulfill.
Rest.
Overrated.
I say just forget about the before.
Like it or not.

Old Man T

Well, thank God my New Year's Resolution was not to blog more. Sorry I've been slacking on the updates and posts. The beginning of my final semester has proven challenging in terms of time management. Tonight in particular marked the first time on a college campus that I felt old. Sure sure, anybody out there reading this who has a few years on me may scoff, but hear me out. There was a party happening tonight. Many of my Freshman and Sophomore year friends from the dorms were to be in attendance and it was being held at a swanky apartment building on campus. What was not to be appealing about it? Well for one, how about the two bitchy Ann Arbor PD female officers who came and broke up the party threatening B&E to any bystanders observing their procedures? Typical. As I stood sober in the middle of the empty dance floor, I watched handfuls of Freshman pack into tiny bedrooms like sardines. I knew there was no reasonable sign for trouble, at least not for me. Even my old dorm friends who were at the party seemed to be trapped in Winter 2008. More of the same with them. It leads me to question whether the problem is my mentality or theirs. I arrived back home to the sounds of Blink-182 and loud conversation penetrating the walls of my apartment building. My roommate was hosting several drunk guests, and by the looks of things, the party wouldn't be letting up anytime soon. Ah, to be that young and vibrant still. Instead I spend my nights alone, writing to anybody who will read. Not that it is a bad thing, I favor you guys to watered-down beer and the pant-seducing powers of the acoustic guitar. Leave it for the youth and embrace the next phase in life. I hate more than anything to say it, but maybe the best of my college years are past me. It scares the hell out of me, too.

The Long Haul

There lies within all souls a capacity
To wait, for the change of the tide.
Though too often is the case
Is the case that impatience devours
The persevering membrane around
Me and you and her, him, us.
But the rise and fall of that layer
That resilient ability to pick up
Where last left off
Is conditional to the depths of
One's acute awareness for such
Emotion. So the battle continues.
Until the day when the sun rises
And with that light shines a new hope
For success, For us to see our way.
We will, we always do...eventually

1

Would the world be for better or worse,

If it were purged of all existing evil?

And even then would the least good

Fall into the recently exonerated darkness?

We cannot simply create or destroy one

Without also considering its counterpart.

As the descent to Prime transpires

And the singularity before us rises.

Resetting the clock of Life

As we make our same mistakes

Again, Again, Again, Again, Again.