First Day of Senior Year

The semester just started for me, and I don't even have classes today ( or any Monday for that matter).  I'm taking Creative Writing Poetry, Major British Writers, Latino Literature, and a Capstone.  I'm expecting a heavy schedule.  So, at best, you can expect to update with something new once a week.

Wish me luck.

Once again, feedback of all kinds is appreciated.

Man on the Moon

There's probably so many ways

I could make this poem pretty.  

Probably as many ways

as there are stars

We're both human beings,

so I’ll make this short

You made one small step

And that step is going to stay

on the moon forever. 

Thanks for giving us

the leap we needed

Here's hoping

you're stepping

among the stars,

because you are one

RIP

1930-2012

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In memory of Neil Armstrong

A Sonnet about Stress

Curse the clock, who beats upon my brain 

Thou follow me forever in my dreams

Thou never stop to rest as I still pain

As I begin to lose grasp of my beam

By four vengeful verses, I shiver fear

The red bull who charges for perfection

By verses so vain they must profess, sir

I force myself down this one direction

The windmill's engine is close to true death

The light bulb of my mind is near to crack

Tis as thou I am breathing my last breath

To finish my words which continue to stack

Yet by Time's cruel hand, I even my pace

Of work inch by inch will finish this race

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I wrote this poem during my junior year.

Ode To The Boulder

In between two neighboring houses

rests a single small boulder.

It slumbers under the towering tree’s shade

and has rested there for who knows how long. 

It was there at the beginning,

it was there at the moving,

and here it still stays. 

Its clearly seen downpours and blizzards much worse,

so the pouring rain currently in progression

was nothing.

It was as motionless as it was surreal,

like there could be something grand

underneath that hard, rough skin. 

If anything else, it was probably there

since the dawn of time itself. 

Or maybe it was just the fossilized,

fleshless tow of a troll or giant. 

I really don't know, to be honest. 

It was a giant in its own right. 

There it sleeps by the edge

of that strip of nature. 

It shows no resentment to the children

who used to climb on its side

with rubber-flatted sneakers. 

That’s where I let my dreams wander.

Not anymore.

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I wrote this poem just the other day.  This picture was literally taken right next to my house.

No Internet Access

For want of a connection, there is no Internet

For want of the Internet, there is no homework

For want of homework, there is no studying

For want of studying, there is no passing grade

For want of a grade, there is no passing class

For want of a class, there is no graduation

For want of graduation, there is no joy

For want of joy, there is no moving out of the basement

For want of out of the basement, there is no job

For want of a job, there is no success

For want of success, there is no sanity

For want of sanity, there is only politics

All of this for the want of a connection

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I wrote this poem when I just started my Junior year at college.

Love at First Sight

If I could give you one gift in the world

I would give you my only heart

I could sing to you my feelings unfurled

Our bond would not fit on a chart

I would go to climb to the blackest sky

And spell your name with the stars

I would bring you treasures beyond the Buy

And the truth would be in my scars

I see only the most prized Diamond

Nothing of a Dragon’s old trove

The Red string of Fate has birthed our bond

The love as known, we weave and wove

Only grasping smoke with Vision Once Old

This feeling shall happen again more bold

The Last Words of the Jabberwock

‘Twas dwinkly whilst the tunklies old

Did slobre through the TumTum sky;

All stundrid were the smuppy brood,

And no tove and mome would ask why.

The sun flies by the Tulgey Wood.

My Crest is stained!  My rage aflut.

The hours hat swung by where I’th stood.

The sun witnessed my luck kurplut.

My vest present in front not back,

While tiny were the buttons black.

My clands unclipped from clippers clunk,

My hair untrimmed from broken frunk.

Then GwinGock’s bird of Jubjub rare,

Did frumpick at my scildy hair.

And BlugBlod’s beamish Bandersnatch

Came leashless out; tabbed on my sgatch.

I trulluf through the tumtum land,

awaiting soon a tempt so grand.

And resting by a tumtum tree,

a chance to blow my frum with glee.

Fhwap!

Now snicker-snacked has been my head.

So sadly this, and now I’m dead.

Fhwompf.

In Memory of Sir Jabber A. Wockington

He was married and 42.

‘Twas dwinkly whilst the tunklies old

Did slobre through the TumTum sky;

All stundrid were the smuppy brood,

And no tove and mome would ask why.

Thank You, Chick-fil-a

THANK YOU, CHICK-FIL-A

For sending out your message

For exercising your rights

For introducing yourself to people
Who have never heard of you

For introducing your food
That I will never eat

For allowing us to recognize
Another culture

For allowing us to give them
More support

For making gay couples
More socially acceptable

For giving them the recognition
They truly deserve

Like a drive through lane
The gay community
Is going in one direction
And its not going backwards

The line will never die
The line will never die
It will only multiply

Thank you, Chick-fil-a

Why This Blog Exists

I am using this blog to expose my writings to anybody who is willing to read them.  These are all written by me for one reason or another.  No rhyme or reason to what I write.  I just like to write when these thoughts come into my head.  As I post, I welcome all feedback, good, bad, or otherwise.