True Vine

Days run together

Like vines in the forest

Distinguished by flowers

Maybe a leaf or a thorn

Continuously flowing

Withering and growing

Rooted far in the past

Another Story Excerpt

People didn't join The Herd often--no one was supposed to know it existed--and those that did were often born in to herd life. To show knowledge of The Herd was a danger to my life both from the government and The Herd. To seek out someone I knew to be a member of The Herd would be instantaneous death. No, The Herd was not like taking a job or joining an organization and I couldn't simply inquire within. It was a way of life, and a dangerous one at that, in which people were not just fighting in some petty gang war over illegal operatives but a silenced political movement stuck in a bloody stalemate. Not everyone was cut out for that life; not everyone believed in something so strongly, nor understand the balance between action and sentiment. To be a member of The Herd, you had to be totally seamless with The Herd. Few were cut out for that lifestyle, and even fewer possessed the qualities The Herd leaders would want influencing the movement. That's why you had to be chosen to be a part of it. The matter of deciding to join was supposed to be reactionary not an initiative.

Sixth Sense

Steady and loyal,

Curled up by my feet

And I wonder what lies there

Behind big round eyes

So full --

Over run 

Unspoken words linger

And I long to hear

That which my senses

Forbid and ignore

Untold Story

Rolling hills of golden dunes
Far away in a far off land
Swirling in my furthest thoughts

Boldly colored life forms
Of foreign majesty
Dancing through my mind

Running over with emotion

Action filled sequences
Unfolding before my eyes

Tangible Thoughts

Incoherent--
A thought, a feeling
Just past the ebbing tides
In the sea of consciousness;
Lying there,
Just beyond my reach
Drifting closer
Rolling away,
Wave after wave...

My fingers brush
It's transparency,
Fall short
Awed at the softness
Of thin air,
Pawing yet
For something tangible
Sailing off to sea
Farther in the distance
Away and away.

Following the Crowd

I've always been one of those people that hates the idea of doing something because everyone else is doing it, which often leads to me being the oddball. The first time I realized this was in middle school when the Harry Potter series took off. I read the first chapter of the first book--it wasn't bad, it wasn't great, but people were going on and on and on about Harry Potter. It drove me crazy! It did not make me want to continue reading, it just made me think they were all just following each other. I see it all the time, people jump on a bandwagon and follow the latest trends; some of these trends may be great things, but often I see people doing things to just fit in.

Straight Shot

Blank,
Wide open space
Free roads
Unobstructed
Unhinged
Flat, unwinding
Asphalt meeting
Blue skies
Stretching
In the distance

Belonging

People search
For a nook, a cranny
Where they can curl up--
Hide away
And just belong;
They bend themselves
To fit in hollow boxes
Crippled to their shape
Just to belong;
There's some comfort there
In the walls of
Some hollow box
That people yearn for
And die for...

Memories

Thoughts drift,
To times less complex,
To faces, to memories
To people I miss
And images fade
Over time, worn away
Wait for the pieces
To reappear.

Flowers & Weeds

A weed,
Brought up as a flower
Knowing nothing of it's origins
Just as a flower
Shamed to the depths
Of the weed...
A bold and crippling infection
Of perfection and imperfection
Living life blindly,
Tilling the soil,
Growing exactly the same,
Unaware of the truth.

Weather

Unpredictable inconvenience,
First you're hot,
Then you're cold;
Let me shiver in my hoodie
Then bake golden in the heat
Drown me in rain
And batter me in wind
All before a spring snow...
I'm trying to keep up
Body's trying to react
But my reflexes are to slow
And you're temper
Ever changing.

Storytime

My life isn't a story,
It isn't full of conflict
Or involve knick of time resolutions;
There is no evil villain
I desperately need to thwart;
I have no fairy godmother,

Rap Queen

Back when we were running in the race

Trading rhymes and calling shots

Worried about the dopest flow

And covering the hottest beats...

Pen to paper, paper to throne

Cause when a woman is queen

Her voice is the sword.

Reflection of the Past

Dirt, caked on dark fingers
Scarred and calloused,
Bare and bruised--
The same gentle fingers
Softly braiding my hair...

EcoCity

Grass and cement meet,
The smooth curves
Of man's artistic creation
Intertwined with nature's chaos
Deliberateness born
Of unpredictable beauty.
Limbs and leaves
Wind above towers
And lose track
Of where man ends

Storm of Life

Storms build over our sea
Waxing and waning
Coming and going--
They rain down their terror
Disrupt our thoughts
Wreak havoc on our stability
Plunge us in to the filth

Full Moon

Mr. moon, high in the sky--
Bright, luminescent watcher of the night
Speak to me; tell me a secret or two
As you gaze upon me from above.
Tell me what you see,
What you know, what you believe...
Shine a little light on my existence
Warm me in your glow--
Wipe away the shadows
Of my distance memories...

A Programmer's Christmas

On the twelfth day of Christmas
My true love sent to me
12 spam viruses
11 data structures
10 optional languages
9 logic tables

Twelve

A strange and even number
Marked with meaning,
It appears and appears
And reappears,
What power lies therein?
Unity, where one meets two

Speed of Light

Transcend the light,
Beyond the void,
Faster than the mind can imagine,
Can you escape?
Or do you fall victim
And let the mystery
Overwhelm your illusions--
What's behind the veil?

Beware: the Rant

I read a disturbing article today (a video of the news clip is below). It's from 2009, but I just saw it today and it bothers me to no end. There's just so much wrong, I don't know where to begin!

The case is centered around an elementary student who's teacher "became frustrated" and cut off part of one of the little girl's braids. SAY WHAT?

Forget the commentary on race, gender, etc. that is undoubtedly connected to this issue for a second. My first question is if the teacher was "frustrated" why didn't she send the girl to detention or the principal's office!? Is that not the proper protocol for students misbehaving in class? The article says the little girl was playing with her hair, which I don't classify as misbehaving, but then why was the teacher frustrated!?

Ok, now that we've pointed out how absolutely idiotic the entire notion is, on to other issues. The comments below the article were atrocious. One comment-er makes the excuse that perhaps the teacher didn't know it was her real hair "because Black people wear weave." O_O The assumption that all Black people wear weave is problem one. The assumption that your weave is not your personal property is problem number two (it costs a nice fortune for weave braids!). The justification of invading a child's personal space, cutting her hair (natural or otherwise) and thus damaging her physical appearance is the culmination of problems. I couldn't decide which made me madder: the teacher or the ignorance in the comments.

My little cousins wear braids like this to school all the time. I wore braids like this when I was a kid. As someone who thoroughly dislikes being around children I have never thought to do something like this to a child... Who are we letting teach our kids? Why is this acceptable? And can I cut her child's hair--better yet, can I cut the teacher's hair?

Scared

Inescapable blue walls
Closing in tight around me--
A small window,
    A sliver of light,
Raised high before me
Just above my fingertips...
Trembling in and out of focus
Opening and shutting
In the sway of the wind.
Cold air, like a vacuum
Beating my will to shame
And I shiver.

Remnants of Humanity

Every word spewing from your mouth,
Every stroke from the keyboard,
Fills me with rage--
Logic says you deserve to suffer
Your complaints are meaningless trifles
Shallow whinning from privelged misguidance

A Vision Deferred

A wise old woman
Born of a foolish young girl,
Battered, beaten, and broken
Risen from black ashes
She found Life.
Even ugly and bruised
Her heart reached out
Conscious and concerned
She uttered words of gold
And spun diamonds
With each burdened step--
But we reject her
In awe of distant glitter
The unreachable shimmer
Of Death's forsaken isle,
We watch her treasures sink
Drifting further and further away,
Buried--
Under turbulent blue waves
And salty white foam.

A Different Hero

Shades of black
Layered across the screen
Tattoos and piercings
Eyes behind heavy eyeliner
And I wonder where
This image forms--
The angelic bad boy
Some twist of fantasy
A million dollar empire
Of good vs. evil
Cloaked in shadow.

One of the 1/2 man 1/2 angel characters of The Mortal Instruments Series (great books btw)

Constant

They told me I should leave you
I should walk away
And never look back--
You're no good for me,
I'll regret you someday...
But there's just so much about you
That makes me happy--
They just can't seem to see.
May be I'm in denial,
So for now, just let us be.

I actually wrote this poem about Pepsi, but it's quite applicable to many situations don't you think?

Be You, Do You, Love You

I woke up thinking, why am I here?
I woke up thinking, I must be crazy...
And then it dawned on me: I woke up.

It's strange how little things, simple, seemingly inconsequential things, can be so powerful. 

There was a time when I worried--rather I felt like I needed to prove myself.  The funny thing was that I didn't fully understand my own actions, or worry. I had no desire

Alienated

Half of what you say,
Is empty to me--
You don't understand my words
Because I'm seeing something
You just can't see.
Is it a hallucination--
    Wishful thinking,
    Dreams on shooting stars?
Or is it real,
    Something I can touch
    Something I can feel.
Way off in the distance
So close and yet so far
I see it there,
An answer just off the horizon
Sparkling, shining
Beautiful in simple elegance.
I see it there,
All alone,
Just like me.

Misconception

Everyone knows whats best for me--
You can't tell me my favorite color,
What keeps me up at night,
Not even what type of food I like,
But you know me.
You know who I am,
And somehow you figure you know
Who I'm suppose to be
And who's the compliment to my me--
Slow down.
Step back.
I am not a victim of your misconceptions
Not here for your suspicions
You conclusions or intuitions;
I am not who you say I am.

Untitled Sci-Fi Prose

Earth is a relic of the past; a distant memory of long forgotten sights, sounds, and smells, incinerated before our very eyes. Now, drifting to through the void of space--an endless gloom of darkness with pockets of light scattered in every direction--we were the last of human civilization. Awaiting our own slow death amongst the stars, unsure if life existed anywhere outside the hull of our faulty space ship, we cruised through the galaxy in hopeless wonder.

Wings

Wings of steel and iron
Fold gently in the wind
Cut through strong gusts
With precision and grace
While unfamiliar terrain
     Unfolds below
Grassy meadows and plains
Peaks and valleys--
Sometimes high; sometimes low.
But constant and unchanging
Under the wind's forceful slap,
Strong and unaffected
These wings stay a loft
A question unanswered
But this  bird still flies.

Ominous

Silence cut by the ringing of the bell
A low chime lingering in the air
As the sound dissipates, another chime,
Just enough time for your mind to wander
Just enough silence for so soul to quiver
Just enough sound for you heart to warm,

Ding...

The last breath of a life stolen

Ding...

Another minute passing

Ding...