She walked through the house with her head in a cloud of inebriated dreams, wondering her next steps to becoming the center of the universe. She could feel the madness inch by inch. She wanted to be a part of it. For the things that seemed so solid and unbreakable like family or friendship or love deteriorated in her hands. Her self-confidence eroded like the rocks that drown in salty ocean water on our greatest beaches, or ice that condenses at the bottom of a liquor glass. She was up for anything that had the slightest ability to make her feel important. That feeling that has been so neglected, but yet so integral to her personality.
Her peers look down on her and throw stones. The manifesto of tough love says shunning and punishing those who have done acts unspeakable is the only way to formidably revamp the psychological reasoning behind her misdeeds. But those go way back. Nobody knows about them. Nobody asks.
Maybe she wants to kill her dad. Maybe she wants him to love her. Thus, creating a context for every bottle, cigarette and xy chromosome she reached for. Each at the expense of others and herself. But turbulence and trouble were her prerogatives; self-destruction came as a side effect.
She reached for whatever she could get her hands on, then she took it. When she was young and short, her father would always leave the cookies on the counter just so she couldn't get any. She cried and cried but her father would never bring them down. To this day, she is still reaching. To this day, she is crying for his help.
But as a conniving female, she might have more self control over her subconscious desires than immediately noticeable. It must be noted, that she has a background in theater.
Loud and boisterous, loud and obnoxious: her actions were gently planned so those surrounding could fall in her grand scheme. And her critics, gave her more power; they made it a scene. Everything goes according to plan, and there is no way to escape it. The only defense against her is time.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Get Me Love
Summer spoke to me in tongues
and clutched my every move
like the devil I just sold my soul to
A gentle greeting at the crossroads
He grips the guitar in his left hand
while the strings cry for understanding
as he says his final goodbyes
to what he once knew of himself
I learned how to play that summer
I learned the blues
I lived the blues
The comb does not finish its journey through the jungle of my hair
it just explodes in the humidity
like before the cotton gin
when the evil overpowered
our bloody hands and strained backs
almost destroyed by the lash
and by the heat
we didnt forget something
it was taken away
Lordy don't leave me
All by myself
Good time's the devil
I am a force of heaven
But we still rise against the nobility
with song and spirit
shaking the earth in a culture so in touch with power
something so lost within us that we cannot forget
even if we leave this hell dressed in sweat
We still love ourselves
It don't matter what they do
So many time's I'm down
With the ground
Unbearable this heat
Unbearable the Mason Dixon Line
Unbearable my distance from home
Unbearable Maryland summers
I must not complain
Through this water I must wade
Because one day this sun will fade
and I will study war no more
And if you make it through the summer
and relinquish the burden from your back
You may realize
that its quite nice in the autumn time
the red and orange leaves mesh well together
Just like freedom
and clutched my every move
like the devil I just sold my soul to
A gentle greeting at the crossroads
He grips the guitar in his left hand
while the strings cry for understanding
as he says his final goodbyes
to what he once knew of himself
I learned how to play that summer
I learned the blues
I lived the blues
The comb does not finish its journey through the jungle of my hair
it just explodes in the humidity
like before the cotton gin
when the evil overpowered
our bloody hands and strained backs
almost destroyed by the lash
and by the heat
we didnt forget something
it was taken away
Lordy don't leave me
All by myself
Good time's the devil
I am a force of heaven
But we still rise against the nobility
with song and spirit
shaking the earth in a culture so in touch with power
something so lost within us that we cannot forget
even if we leave this hell dressed in sweat
We still love ourselves
It don't matter what they do
So many time's I'm down
With the ground
Unbearable this heat
Unbearable the Mason Dixon Line
Unbearable my distance from home
Unbearable Maryland summers
I must not complain
Through this water I must wade
Because one day this sun will fade
and I will study war no more
And if you make it through the summer
and relinquish the burden from your back
You may realize
that its quite nice in the autumn time
the red and orange leaves mesh well together
Just like freedom
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
My Apology
Dear,
We learn in school that it is improper to begin any kind of presentation with apologies. But in this case, my entire presentation is an apology.
This group has been a bit slow coming in its original purpose to provide a creative outlet for Sherwood students. As the creator, I must take full responsibility for the lack of example I have shown through the dearth of writing I have produced.
To be fully honest, I do not really know what caused this mental block of creativity. My last piece went completely unpublished because it dealt with a matter that I do not like talking about: family issues. I can never produce something that satisfies my feelings and my families feelings when focusing on that topic so I dare not to present those things because of my own insecurities behind my writing.
Since that last piece, I have saddled my writing at the bottom of my priorities simply because I could not bear the gripping reality behind art and real-life. Normally, my writing helps me bear the separation; in this case, it widened the schism.
It was not until the past week in which a friend of mine showed me some very detailed writing that perfectly fused the pain and heartbreak of everyday life with therapeutic expression. Her courage to even pen those words, broke every tentative bone in my body that declined my need and passion to write down the contents of my existence, fated or not.
This is the next round; I have been knocked down, and I will be damned if won't be in the near future. But I must remain focused on whats important. I am back in the ring.
My lord: it's good to be here.
Sincerely,
Marcus Lee
We learn in school that it is improper to begin any kind of presentation with apologies. But in this case, my entire presentation is an apology.
This group has been a bit slow coming in its original purpose to provide a creative outlet for Sherwood students. As the creator, I must take full responsibility for the lack of example I have shown through the dearth of writing I have produced.
To be fully honest, I do not really know what caused this mental block of creativity. My last piece went completely unpublished because it dealt with a matter that I do not like talking about: family issues. I can never produce something that satisfies my feelings and my families feelings when focusing on that topic so I dare not to present those things because of my own insecurities behind my writing.
Since that last piece, I have saddled my writing at the bottom of my priorities simply because I could not bear the gripping reality behind art and real-life. Normally, my writing helps me bear the separation; in this case, it widened the schism.
It was not until the past week in which a friend of mine showed me some very detailed writing that perfectly fused the pain and heartbreak of everyday life with therapeutic expression. Her courage to even pen those words, broke every tentative bone in my body that declined my need and passion to write down the contents of my existence, fated or not.
This is the next round; I have been knocked down, and I will be damned if won't be in the near future. But I must remain focused on whats important. I am back in the ring.
My lord: it's good to be here.
Sincerely,
Marcus Lee
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Man's Accomplishments
A vast labyrinth of asphalt that covers the landscape,
An uprising of concrete, glass, and steel that conquers the horizon,
A system of synthetic lights that outshine the stars.
These are the accomplishments of the infrastructure of man.
A hypocritical system that tells us to do the opposite that it teaches us,
A world that is run by money,
A place that is torn apart by demographics.
These are the accomplishments of the society of man.
A class that forces you to memorize instead of learn,
A school that doesn’t care about what the students want,
A student that learns all that matters in his future is his financial well-being.
These are the accomplishments of the education of man.
A species that destroys countless other species’ homes to make room for his own,
An animal that breeds and kills other animals for mass production of food,
An organism that is the self-proclaimed ruler over all other organisms.
These are the accomplishments of the survival of man.
These are the accomplishments of man.
An uprising of concrete, glass, and steel that conquers the horizon,
A system of synthetic lights that outshine the stars.
These are the accomplishments of the infrastructure of man.
A hypocritical system that tells us to do the opposite that it teaches us,
A world that is run by money,
A place that is torn apart by demographics.
These are the accomplishments of the society of man.
A class that forces you to memorize instead of learn,
A school that doesn’t care about what the students want,
A student that learns all that matters in his future is his financial well-being.
These are the accomplishments of the education of man.
A species that destroys countless other species’ homes to make room for his own,
An animal that breeds and kills other animals for mass production of food,
An organism that is the self-proclaimed ruler over all other organisms.
These are the accomplishments of the survival of man.
These are the accomplishments of man.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Just a Taste
I'm done with the birds,
The rain,
The clouds
And the sky.
The tears have dried up and so has the tide.
People stare in wonder and just ask themselves why?
But I know the answer its just far out from their sight.
Why care when the sky falls if you've known how to fly?
And why wait for heaven when we were all born to die?
I'm educated in the mind.
Future has its own shine.
Sunglasses don't do shit so i'm buying me some blinds.
I can match words together light it up and make it rhyme.
Two metaphors in one just follow the signs.
Get yourself in line,
Don't sit back . . .
Be a user.
Your potential is waiting so don't ever abuse her.
Cuz you're needing her like they need power to a computer.
These kids that give up are all just a pack of losers.
Living as a sinner,
Throwing the towel down and dishing in before dinner.
Never called a winner.
Always taking blank shots,
Labeled as an undirected shooter.
Curious in my view so just know that I'm the future.
They come and go like the rain. . . but there's somthing different about you,
It'll never be the same.
Never be the same like a chemical change.
That life is outta sight its way outta my range.
I'm so off target, cuz i'm missing you.
My life is being flipped idk what to do.
It's not like i'm a gymnast
these flips i cannot withstand.
I wish there was a guide on how to be a man. . .
That book must've fell down a portal.
Because in this age the world's lost all morals.
So many people that we've met.
With no footprints left,
No interaction involved and that's a thing we regret.
But we all feel the same thing,
Always yearning for something more.
Wishing we did something different or had more open doors.
The rain,
The clouds
And the sky.
The tears have dried up and so has the tide.
People stare in wonder and just ask themselves why?
But I know the answer its just far out from their sight.
Why care when the sky falls if you've known how to fly?
And why wait for heaven when we were all born to die?
I'm educated in the mind.
Future has its own shine.
Sunglasses don't do shit so i'm buying me some blinds.
I can match words together light it up and make it rhyme.
Two metaphors in one just follow the signs.
Get yourself in line,
Don't sit back . . .
Be a user.
Your potential is waiting so don't ever abuse her.
Cuz you're needing her like they need power to a computer.
These kids that give up are all just a pack of losers.
Living as a sinner,
Throwing the towel down and dishing in before dinner.
Never called a winner.
Always taking blank shots,
Labeled as an undirected shooter.
Curious in my view so just know that I'm the future.
They come and go like the rain. . . but there's somthing different about you,
It'll never be the same.
Never be the same like a chemical change.
That life is outta sight its way outta my range.
I'm so off target, cuz i'm missing you.
My life is being flipped idk what to do.
It's not like i'm a gymnast
these flips i cannot withstand.
I wish there was a guide on how to be a man. . .
That book must've fell down a portal.
Because in this age the world's lost all morals.
So many people that we've met.
With no footprints left,
No interaction involved and that's a thing we regret.
But we all feel the same thing,
Always yearning for something more.
Wishing we did something different or had more open doors.
Monday, August 17, 2009
The World's Awakening
2:00 am, 2012
all the world's asleep
some stragglers of the norm lie awake
not sure of what theyre waiting for, but still, they wait
they lie in bed, clutching their sheets, afraid for what tommorow will bring
these are the men and the women that falsify the belief in the american dream
yet, in reality, the american dream consists of a very violent ending to a dreary story
2:15 am, 2012
a faint rumbling is heard in the distance
none yet those who have the sharpest of hearing rise to it
all the others in the little country have no knowlege of it whatsoever
as the rumbling becomes a more deafening boom, they rise from their humble abodes
2:30 am, 2012
fear washes through those of them that are old enough to understand
jealously comes over those that realize that they will have to see it, feel it
rage consumes those who believe that the impending actions are not fair to them
sadness washes over those who do not understand the next step in life, or lack thereof
2:45 am, 2012
it is times such as these, that the true colors of all people show themselves
the ugly truthes hidden deep inside one another rear their ugly heads
many see this as the last time that they will be able to say everything that they have wanted to
nothing will be hidden now, people think
it is interesting that in the face of an imminent threat, people release all feelings
3:00 am, 2012
with a whistling overhead, the people of the land have just enough time to look up
and within a millisecond, their future is upon them
6:00 pm, 2012
the first of the lucky few start to stir
every breath they take of the toxic air seems to feel as heavy as their first in life
yet as light as their last
they lie as they were when it first started, taking in the first signs of life they didnt expect to see
the only thing to do now is to start life over
everything you ever knew, anything that ever was, is now just a faint memory
a faint memory that eventually, like your past, will fade
Day 1, 9:00 am, 2012
little children, playing along the ruined lands
searching for what will never be found
the life they once had, or knew
they will always search
yet never find
life is gone
forever.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Stop Here On Red
Streetlight, House, Streetlight, House, Streetlight, House
The car blows through the dull Friday night air in zero gravity.
We try so hard to find an identity in our community
indulging in endless confrontations with apathy and hedonism,
retracing our adolescent footsteps
looking for the carelessness and joy that we left behind
The 1998 Toyota Corolla with manual locking doors is our spaceship now
The glory of a first skateboard is the gift of speed,
the gift of flight
Oh Go Get High
Even with our growth
We will never touch the sky like we did
in those days
The radio system bumps sound waves that trek through the stars
The commotion is a combination of all my childhood dreams
the volume is a steep contrast to the silent backdrop of suburban nightlife
The bass drum bounces like a pinball
the treble tone sends us toward the moon
and I start to remember my thoughts as a kid:
summertime, the surreality of cartoons, being able to fly
We used to ask questions that accelerated our dreams
Now, we settle for materials and images
Images of others; Images of Ourselves
all to satisfy our intimidation by improbability
The idea of growing up is so superficial
What if?
We dress old school; aerodynamically
Vans laced to the top like a Z-Boy
Hi Top Adidas with no laces like Run DMC
They cannot touch us tonight
because the sky is our playground
there are no limits to our dreams
The sign reads "Stop Here on Red"
So lets dance
while our blood is still red with passion and excitement
like we were children
just at this light
until it turns green with envy
at how much fun we shouldn't be having at our ages
We are heroes of definition
The car blows through the dull Friday night air in zero gravity.
We try so hard to find an identity in our community
indulging in endless confrontations with apathy and hedonism,
retracing our adolescent footsteps
looking for the carelessness and joy that we left behind
The 1998 Toyota Corolla with manual locking doors is our spaceship now
The glory of a first skateboard is the gift of speed,
the gift of flight
Oh Go Get High
Even with our growth
We will never touch the sky like we did
in those days
The radio system bumps sound waves that trek through the stars
The commotion is a combination of all my childhood dreams
the volume is a steep contrast to the silent backdrop of suburban nightlife
The bass drum bounces like a pinball
the treble tone sends us toward the moon
and I start to remember my thoughts as a kid:
summertime, the surreality of cartoons, being able to fly
We used to ask questions that accelerated our dreams
Now, we settle for materials and images
Images of others; Images of Ourselves
all to satisfy our intimidation by improbability
The idea of growing up is so superficial
What if?
We dress old school; aerodynamically
Vans laced to the top like a Z-Boy
Hi Top Adidas with no laces like Run DMC
They cannot touch us tonight
because the sky is our playground
there are no limits to our dreams
The sign reads "Stop Here on Red"
So lets dance
while our blood is still red with passion and excitement
like we were children
just at this light
until it turns green with envy
at how much fun we shouldn't be having at our ages
We are heroes of definition
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