Inspiration

Many constellations have come and gone,

For me to have held such delicacy,

Such fragility.

Attentively I had lend my ear,

Unconditionally shared my thoughts,

Desperately hoping to lessen the tears upon my shoulder.

Without dispute we were one

Possible solution of being twins – sibling- in a past life

Subtraction of one could only sum to the other

A genuine companionship, it was,

It could still be.

Understanding – questioningly – became mistaken for Passion

No second chances were given to correct this risk,

This misconceived notion that identical bruised souls,

Were meant to engage.

So as I explored the ins and outs of what the naked eye

Could not see,

It was not apparent to me that I was much more inspiring.

Just as any imperfectly perfect line,

Its secant broke.

Distance began to replace the security,

Cloudiness fog disabled the easy flow,

Admiration lost by contactless eyes,

Awkwardness had taken over Comfort,

And I yearned it.

If a time warp could be yielded,

I would jump back to save my kinship,

Change this neglect resulted from Fate.

To be a peer, I had forgotten

So I intensively struggle to once again meet Understanding,

To remember how to hold such delicacy,

But learning to piece together fragility,

Desperately hoping that one day

It will be apparent that I am inspired as well.

3/1/11

Shiney Metal

I smile at the shiny metal in my hand. Then my eyes close in pleasure as I slide my savior across my arm. A tear falls down my cheek; hating my addictive remedy. Glossy red begins to decorate my arm.
Ah, the euphoric feeling I get when my pain seeps from my body. The release is such a morbid relief, but worth the troubles. I frown at the purple and red rigged lines that take up every spot on my skin. Luckily, it’s wintertime; so long sleeves won’t be a question. I’ll have to hide my scars from everyone. No one would understand. Everything I deal with is just so overbearing. So overbearing that this self-inflicting art is my only key to freedom. When I do this...then I am able to manage, because I can’t take it all at once.

• Why must my life be so messed up like this?
• Why can’t I just be happy like everyone else?

Maybe if I cut the ugliness away things will get better. It feels so good to channel one pain into a more tolerable one. Doing this makes me feel like I can look at other problems with a straighter backbone. No more nerve wrecking tears, just slices. I've met Pain and I don't know how to address him. So I run to the medicine cabinet to gain some reflecting advice.
As I rinse the scarlet mutilation from my arm, I cry for two reasons. I cry for the pitiful person I come to as I do this misunderstood deed, and I cry in inexplicable joy. I clean my only friend, feeling its cool and smoothness. Then I place it back in its space, smiling. This is the only good feeling I get.


For: anyone who cuts his or her selves, or does any other form of self-mutilation.
Memo: Please talk to someone, or get help before it gets worse or it’s too late. There are other forms to coping with pain.
734-662-2222 This is the Crisis Line to the Ozone House in Ann Arbor, Michigan. They're a great place to go to about your personal problems. That's a personal recommendation. 

"I" am they, just as "She" is you

I always knew something was different about me, but never in my mind did I think I would be confessing to this.

• What will they think of me?
• Will they realize that I'm just plain old me?
• No matter what, I'm still me, right?
• Will they treat me any differently?
• Will my family still love me?

I tried to fix it; I tried to be "normal" like everyone else. I tried to fit my "role". But I can't change it, it is what i am, it's who I am.
I mean it's not like I woke up one day and decided to be this. I don't get what's so wrong about it anyway. I'm a human being just like everyone else.
They're all probably going to think something's wrong with me. I can hear them now.
"What made you change? Did something happen to you? You had such a bright future ahead of you."
Or like I'm nasty or something. I know I used to feel disgusting, gross, sickening even. I knew it wasn't "right". I would try to forget it, ignore it; pretend it wasn't even there. I thought it was just some phase all of us go through. But then....i noticed that, that phase was turning into reality.
The truth is I think deep down I've always been like this and I already knew. It's just who I am.

- "Mom? Dad?.......Meet my girlfriend."

For: all the girls who have problems with being a lesbian (and guys who have a problem with being gay).
Memo: there isn't anything wrong with who you are. Learn to accept it, and what others think doesnt matter one single bit. It may be hard, but you'll pull through it.

So Selfish They Are...

They keep fighting. They won't shut up.
He makes her cry, and she makes him drink. I hear yelling and cursing in the middle of the night. He sleeps in the guest room now. And it's quiet at the dinner table. The house is split up.

• No more laughter.
• Clothes are thrown out the house.
• Glasses breaking.
• Plastic smiles in public.
I don't even see his band anymore. The white picket fence seems pretty black right now. I hear them fight about money. Disputes about me and my brother. I try to tell him it's OK, but i think he's smarter than that. No more joint parent-teacher conferences. No more family vacations. Why can't they get over themselves? What about me and my brother? They're breaking up our secure bricked-shelter. So selfish they are, not realizing how i feel, how we feel... I try to block it out; say they'll work it out in counseling. But I as well, am smarter than that. They're not fair at all. One gets mad if I'm with the other. It's like competition to be the most likable. I don't understand what went wrong. They're like two different people now. Am I suppose to use this as a model of love? Is this what it's going to be like when I decide to bond my life with another? What happened to "until death do us apart"? I feel so alone, so left behind, uncared for, not understood.

"Who's the new guy?"

"Dad, why is your secretary over for dinner?" 

          The moon's clouding my sun. The fighting continues....our family split up:
        
          "Rachel, you're going over your father's this weekend."

 

For: anyone who's going through or went through a divorce
Memo: Just know that you are not alone in this, and your parents actually do care and love you; try to be a little understanding in what they're going through. Sometimes you have to be the bigger person, involving parents.

 

I Am Me

I…Am…Me
Not a conformed idea of a biased society
What comes natural is my true beauty
The way the sun caresses my cheek is right
Without make-up I am an essential sight
I’d rather set my own characteristics
Be my own prejudging critics
Comfort is found in the wear I like
Discomfort comes from those of others I dislike
Passions I possess are blessed gifts I embrace
Aspects of my persona(s) my fingers lace
Despite culture, gender roles, and religion I
Follow my lead
I block out burdens, being determined I succeed
The way my hair blows in the air is true
No processed scent takes over my skin, so new
Inspiration from others do not define my presence
Only my thoughts speak as references
I ignore the urge to want to be within
In their shoe, my foot does not fit in
My happy trigger will only be set with my satisfaction
Others are just the addition to a lifetime of manifestation
Not written or illustrated by those
I…Am…Me

SAVAGE

I AM SAVAGE
Moments out the womb, you placed a gun within my hands.
Teaching me that my weapon is my best friend; my only means to living, to surviving.
Born a killer, given no chance to innocence.
I've killed brutally: BURNED, hung, CRUCIFIED!
Demons haunt my mind.
I see the deaths of my mother, MY SISTER, my family as i lie awake with insomnia.
Look at what you've created!
I'm a monster...the Devil's advocate himself.
Everything, everyone I touch, harm truly follows.
Set off in this world alone
Diminishing any means of connection
Destroying Happiness
Bringing the Future its demise
You expect me to go into this whole?! Like I'm actually SANE?
Where's the justice?!
My chance to a true life, A bright and promising existence?
There is no more me, no more the man I could've been.
A soul, I have no more
I AM SAVAGED!

For the enslaved children soldiers of Uganda.
1/2/10

Space Heater

"Get up! Get up you piece of shit!" I scream in his face.
Waving hands in his face, he still can't focus. His head bobs from side to side. He falls to his side on the floor and burps. He then laughs. I cover my nose. The smell of vodka and marijuana stains his breath. I get up, looking around for something to help me get him up. Nothing.
I glance back down. Frowning, scorning his pathetic state. Exactly how am I suppose to handle this? You're the adult, so act like one! Do you actually think this is going to fix everything? Help you cope?
You complain about money -we can't pay our bills- but here you are wasting it on alcohol and drugs. Dont spend our last dollar on a lottery ticket or slot machin hoping we'll get some type of fickle fortune. You sit in front of this little space heater. Cold isn't it? Yes, we all know. You act like we aren't freezing our asses off either. We're hungry! The water isn't running right. What's going on? I want clean clothes. I need boots!
Am I suppose to use this as a model for the husband I'm to have? I feel sorry for you, but I cry for my own state. How dare you bring me into this world poor! You dont get anything. Hello? Help me with school work you idiot. That way I won't be sititng where you are ten years from now.
Too wrapped up in your own problems, you can't even see that it's affecting us too. Your problems are ours now. Yelling at us because you're stressed? Throwing shoes, punching holes into the walls? WELCOME TO LIFE! We're stressed too! So are we to fiend for ourselves, because you're focused on yourself? Not worried about the very people you should be taking care of.
I walk away in disgust, hurt.
"Where's Dad?" my sister asks.
I shrug, "Puking in his misery as always."



*For the children who have to deal with the effects of their parents financial problems.

1/2-3/10

The Runaway: Walk

   The explanation for me walking was simple really. Life. Ah yes, that manifestation of going through existence with many events. Some may wonder how could I easily just walk away from my “life”. And the answer to that is simple as well. It wasn’t my life. That explanation may not be comprehensible to most, nor may it be a “good enough” reason to others. Nonetheless, that was motive to my urge to leave my dorm room and head down Michigan Ave and to never look back. I was living the life that was considered the best for me, or in other words living the life to make my family proud. I was living a life in advisement of the ones I loved. I was living the life that continued to be neglected from what I truly wanted, because my best companion tended to snipe my dreams from me and transcend at them. And if I tried speak on what I wanted my life to be, I was wrong, or I just cared too much on what made everyone else happy. I wasn’t living my life and I remained stuck between a rock and a hard place. Happiness would not be attained in any corner that I wished to turn. So why not walk? I was hoping to walk away from Life. I was planning to live, but not have a life. I would walk and proceed to walk. Never stopping. For if I even took a pause in my stride the atmosphere of Life would spring and suffocate me.
    The day I decided to walk was sunny, but that wasn’t imperative. All of what I seen was on a gray-scale. Just because the Sun is shining doesn’t mean it actually is, and just because it’s cloudy and raining doesn’t mean it’s actually pouring. I had laid in bed all day, simply not wanting to be. I heard my roommate walk in and out of the room throughout the day. Rays beamed through the slits of my blinds. My phone went off with notifications of people trying to reach me. I was submissive to all of this. I faded in and out of sleep. I remember thinking that I wanted my own room. I didn’t want my roommate to see me like this, but I wasn’t getting up to please her sight. I didn’t want to be around anyone, nor did I want to talk to anyone. I just wanted to lay in covers until the horsemen took me. It was 4:03 pm and I hadn’t eaten yet, nor did I had a pinch of desire to put food into my mouth. I knew I should’ve gotten up and at least used the bathroom, but I had not the need to or the will to do just that. What did get me up, was my conclusion to leave this forsaken place.
     With soulless eyes I brushed my hair. I threw my sour clothes in the dirty clothes hamper. I took a shower and brushed my teeth. I washed a load of clothes. I packed a bag. Then I left. It was 6:26 pm. 

  

Old, New Stuff

Ok. so later on (or tomorrow) I will be posting a couple of pieces I've written a while ago. I will be editing and augmenting them as I post. So technically, they'll be new, but old at the same time. I just think that what I wrote is perfect for this blog as I vent about certain, controversial situations in the world. I hope you enjoy these as much as my others.

Peace*

=)

Honey Bee = Sister Wife?

Recently, there has been a question that has planted worry into my mind. The question, itself, isn't necessarily a question, really; it's more of an concerned thought. I was looking at the new Snoop Dogg video yesterday, and while I loved the song I couldn't help but shake my head at the video. Now, I know you might be saying "Oh boy, here's another one of those feminists making a speech about the degrading of women in music videos." or "Wow she's a hypocrite. How can she hate the video, but still love that nasty song?" 

Well, I'm here to say that I am not going to bash the music industry about the degradation of women in its music videos. (That's for another time...Haha) And I'm not pointing fingers at just Hip Hop videos; the same thing can be said about Bret Michaels' videos. I just chose to use Snoop Dogg, because his video was the last one I seen and he's a perfect candidate for the topic I'm going to discuss.

Anyway, to get on with my next venting elaboration, I've come to fill your eyes with the concern that married, male music artists are in videos with hundreds of half naked women gyrating and throwing themselves all over these artists. I know, I know. Who cares, right? But that is just my concern. When did we get so desensitized about married men grinding on camera with a woman who is not his wife? A lot of those scenes in music videos have "sex scenes"; the artist and said "leading lady" have come so close as to putting their lips on each other; and the couple of girls these committed men are dancing with are either feeling them up or basically giving them a private dance on a very public camera. 

Many people say in defense that it's just work, it's business. Yea? Well, I say that's bull, and leave that "It's just business" line for the porn stars. I mean, my fiance is a producer and he sometimes rap with his group. So are you telling me that, that's what I have to look forward to? I'm supposed to be just OK with it, and smile stupidly when the scene comes up of them almost, but not quite, kissing? No, I'm not, because I know for certain it wouldn't be just OK if it were vice versa. If it were a woman musician with all these men touching her and kissing on her, she would be labeled dirty and a whore.

So I ask you, why is it still OK for male musicians to have their sweet honey bee? Why do we as women just turn our heads and ignore the jealousy and betrayal we truly feel? It's as if our men have other wives. It's a minor polygamy system. Yes, those Hollywood, plastic honey bees are our sister wives. You never hear of a woman having numerous husbands, and you don't see a female musician being treated equivalently with many male counterparts in her videos. Guess this world is male chauvinistic after all. Change, please?

>=(