Lion Tamer

One day she batted her fake lashes and told me that she hated writing. And I just smiled that smile we make when someone speaks on a subject on which they understand very little. How sad that she didn’t realize that words aren’t just letters and sentences aren’t just words. That words are lions, and pens and tongues the whips cracking in fluid succession. That real readers hold their breath because they can feel the steam of the lions’ beating body boiling out onto their tucked noses as their brains balance between the beasts’ golden lips. And that the ringleader, with the snap of a single syllable can lock the jaws on exposed gray matter, can wake the apathetic, can remind us that we’re human.

You Alone

Sometimes you just have

To breathe. 

I mean it. A big breath that you

hold in close to your chest and

let it out slowly enough that you

have time to THINK.

That there are people 

who are going to 

Put

you down. 

Cut

you down.

And Kick

you while you're down. 

Now take that breath and 

HOLD IT.

Decide. Decide who you want 

to be and who you want to help

who you want to become and

who is going to get in your way

and decide and 

HOLD IT.

And don't let it go. 

Don't even CONSIDER

Giving up.

Letting up. 

Looking down to where you

MIGHT end up if you fall. 

Never be afraid to fall,

because FALLING

and FLYING

are not that different. 

Flying is just taking your fall and

CHOOSING whee you want to land. 

You'll hear otherwise. 

They'll tell you that you've 

fallen and you're hurt and 

broken and worthless. 

THEY. They'll call you stupid.

And ugly. 

and fat and lazy and disappointing and a waste of time and space and a lost cause 

and that

you're nothing. 

And Now. 

now's the time. 

For you to let out that BREATH. 

The time for you to decide 

if you're going to let them hurt you. 

Let them destroy your ego. 

Kill your dreams,

and and break your spirit. 

Or

will you decide to fight?

Fight for what

you 

deserve. Fight for 

your 

happiness--Fight for

your

Life.

YOUR life. 

You 

can choose what to let into your life. 

You

can choose to stand just a little taller

whenever they pass by. 

Will it be hard? Frightening? Overwhelming?

Of course it will be. 

Because they are the wolves,

and you won't always be surrounded

by a shield of friends. 

so

Every time WITHOUT FAIL,

when they look you in the eye

you meet theirs

and you stare right back. 

When they tear you down

you pick up the pieces and you

build a new defense. 

A STRONGER defense. 

Because 

you? 

You're worth defending. 

No matter what THEY may say,

you are worth defending. 

You

are beautiful and unique

and bring something to this world

that NO ONE else can. 

You are YOU

and that's all that matters. 

And that's all that will ever matter. 

And THEY can never change that. 

Take another breath. 

Again,

hold it. 

Don't think about anything this time. 

Let go of your fears. 

Let go of your worries. 

Now, just let it out. 

And choose to smile. 

Because everything is going to be okay. 

Writing: C17H21NO4

Mom said some people get hooked after just one time.

Granted, it wasn’t just the gateway stuff done five minutes

before class that everyone was doing in high school.

The first time I experienced it was late one night after

an emotionally ravaging day, in room-provided solitude,

eye-contact with a hummingbird silence.

Deafening heartbeats, injecting the day’s events into my

bloodstream. Hypothalamus overload, delusional parasitosis—

words crawling  just under the skin, pausing at my fingertips

expressed through a cracked shaky #2.

Ten minutes of ultimate inspiration, ultimate confidence;

euphoria, sweet euphoria, meet the brain.

A god for a single moment. Fifty thousand words,

fifty million thoughts, infinite possibilities. And yet

you? You granted life to a breathtaking new combination.

 Addiction.

I get it now. Every night I crave to reintroduce myself to

that divine creator living deep, deep within myself,

but many of these nights end with restless, sweaty

palms, and ravenous appetite for syntax that isn’t being fed.

The words again course through my veins, surge

through exhausted gray matter but I can’t. I can’t get

them out. They burn inside me and some days you have to

itch and scratch  at them until you bleed them onto the paper.

It’s a dripping mess, kindergarten finger-painting on cardstock.

Honesty in its purest form accompanied by increased body

temperature and pupils dilated twice their normal size,

courtesy of the dim desk lamp everyone buys for college.

And I admit it, I’m always looking for new ways to

reach the feeling of that first time. Speedballing syllables

with rhythm, I’m just a delinquent in downtown LA.

A Breath Upon Mine Ear

O my soul

why hast thou departed hence,

leaving me alone to bear the burdens of this life 

in quiet solitude? 

Doth thou wander now

among the throngs of spirits lost? 

Perhaps thou art seeking me even as I seek in

desperation for thee.

Not only for

the gentle strength of thy

supporting presence, but for the value which

comes with thee, to me. 

Swallowing my 

weakness, fears, and pain

I dare journey through dark places til we meet

again and I beg

for thee to stay.

Again to whisper in my ear that

I am so much more than the masses fault me

to believe.

Exhausted 

after many days of unfruitful

seeking. I rear my head and cry out to thee.

Please! Why?

In earnest

I have sought for thee

and never hath my trials seemed so great

and I needed

Thee. 

A voice, a

breath upon mine ear.

Here I still reside in thee, and hath witnessed

all thy trembling.

For I knew

that I alone could not

support thee through thy life. These trials I 

did allow thee

to face alone,

though heavily it weighed upon

my heart to witness thy pain these days. 'twas

for thy good. 

No more tears.

For I am here and thou 

art stronger than if I had held thy hand or simply

carried thee.

Now let us

face the world together,

with eyes radiating strength and experience that

we may be

Teachers.

Letting Words Fall Out

Drifting in and out of thought

up and down

a waterfall of words

Salmon swimming upstream.

Struggling to breathe because

the Thoughts are more important,

the Words are more important

than air is. 

Calypso less word more sound

echoes through my veins

pulsing to my very brain

I hold tight to every moment.

As the tide rolls in I can't help

but wish that my thoughts

were more Appealing, more

Appetizing, perhaps. Something

of 

Substance. 

But is substance what I'm really

going for? What I want

in my life? There is a superficial

beauty in simple nonsense. 

Nonsense. Nonsensical. 

Completely underrated, yet

gives me complete motivation

To let my mind give birth. 

A pregnancy of thought. 

Conception, development,

pain, stress, suffering form

into something that becomes

Nothing

short of a miracle. 

Float and to Fly

It's like standing on the edge of a pool,
with the rubber of your sneakers hanging over the concrete edge.
Moonlight reflecting in the solemn waves.

Never before has the water seemed so appealing.
To be engulfed in its chilling but somehow soothing grasp
would be learning to float and to fly.


--Disclaimer: I'm a terrible swimmer. I frequently find myself using my fear of swimming as a comparison to other fears I have. Unfortunately, when I write about it it can be easily misinterpreted to have suicidal tie-ins. This is not my intention, but for those who may themselves have suicidal thoughts, remember that it is always better to float and to fly.--

Sewing the Mind Shut

This is a speech I wrote in loose poetic form back in high school, so picture me reading it in a grandiose voice. This really is how I feel about the education system in the United States sometimes, by the way. ;)

Sewing the Mind Shut

In a world where creativity is loved, 

inspiration is dreamt of, 

and creations are praised:

The young are taught facts.

Their opinions are shushed. 

Their minds becoming singular. 

The mind is too valuable to waste. 

That's what they're told,

yet their ambitions are razed.

Memorize this;

this is what you must know.

I sit here and wonder,

should it be so?

You are too young. 

You'll understand soon.

But now you're too old.

Your mind is not yours,

it has become theirs.

What's happened to the individual?

Does it even exist anymore?

Why must I be like them?

Must I?

Can I be no one?

Someone?

Anyone?

Can I be something new?

Some minds are stronger,

but no minds are weak. 

Imagination holds us together,

makes us human.

When we try to be different,

to stray outside the box,

we are slapped back

like we've done something wrong.

 Schools hold the mind in stasis.

As a student we've learned:

What is beauty,

what to know,

what is acceptable,

and what is not.

If we try to be different

our grade suffers.

We won't go to college.

To the world we become expendable.

Even art has succumbed 

in some places.

Suddenly projects have rules  

and measurements that we 

must follow.

 To get the grade.

Expectations. 

We're not learning to be our own self. 

Is this some sort of game?

Every person looks different,

so why should we all think the same?

They say we must learn,

and we'll grow,

be like them.

But what if I want to be me?

Not them.

Shall we just watch,

as our minds,

and our children's minds are sewn shut?

As imagination rusts from disuse?

Change is what's needed.

And it's not being taught. 

An endless paradox, 

unless we make it stop. 

The mind is a sponge,

capable of holding only so much.

If we fill the mind with facts then what room is left

for creativity?

The system of learning

is broken and wrecked. 

the rules are too strict,

thoughts were meant to be bent.

To state your ideas

is dangerous at best.

And only a few

are brave enough to try.

To be part of that few,

strong mind and stronger heart,

they are the truly successful,

though their grades might

not match the part. 

Why are they punished?

Are their minds not functioning?

Instead of science,

math,

and English,

their minds are focused on the surreal,

the beautiful,

the unknown.

Today's learning is based on what's known.

Is that how we progress?

By focusing on the facts? 

Why not focus on what is yet to be understood?

Teach the mind to ponder,

to question everything,

to think past the "facts". 

  Don't be afraid,

to take back your mind.

Oil your imagination.

Cut the bands that are holding you back.

Look past the facts, 

open your heart to the surreal. 

What more can I say then to let your opinions be known?

Together, we can change the system.

Because the mind,

truly,

is too valuable to waste.

So that's that. Remember to subscribe on the right side of the screen if you want to make my day. Feedback is lovely as well. Thanks, pilgrims.