Welcome To Crazy Town

My body is tingling and I question what I have become.

I question the truths I was taught and dwell on the damage I have already caused.

In a blur the line of justice is deformed and in the confusion I maim that which I care about.

But then, did I ever care?

I would hope so.

I still question it.

I do not count this as a post,

I simply needed a place to store an idea. I doubt it will ever be seen by the ones I want it to be seen by. But I post it not as an attempt to reach them, but rather a general utterance. So if you happen to see this, I’m sorry I did not wish to offend. It is an explaination of multiple things. They aren’t explicitly stated here but to those who know what to look for everything will be revealed……

Pauline is probably the sweetest person I’ve ever met in my entire life. She always knew when to be goofy and when to be serious and she could always make me smile no matter how bad things got. She is spontaneous and we could talk about anything for hours at a time about nothing. She never took anything too seriously and was very laid back.
We shared running. We used to go out together on runs that would go for several miles, exploring every place we could.
I met her randomly one day, I always liked telling that story. At the beginning of my junior year before school had started, we were having summer cross country practice.
The person running our practice (Lisa, who lives in SF and goes here and I have known her for forever) had to go off somewhere that day so I was in charge. I decided we needed a vacation and we should all go to great america. That day we were all ready to go when a green car pulls up and out jumps a red headed girl wearing a blue hat, white shirt, and black shorts. She comes out to me over on the track (I was making sure nothing was taken out) and asks if this was Cross Country. I told her this exactly, “Um yeah it is, but you picked a really bad day cause we are all leaving to great america right now. Soooo bye……”
And I just kinda left.
That was the first time I had actually spoken to her and that’s the story we would always tell about how we met. How I ditched her for and amusement park and we would laugh about it. In reality we had met several months earlier. In my sophomore year I missed school one day because I was waiting for the cable guy. I decided to go to the britton middle school track practice and play tag with them. She remembered me as the crazy high school that made them play games and I remember her as the crazy little red head who was a pain in the butt to catch.

Being with her, made me feel like I had no troubles or worries. The world felt perfect somehow. I was so in love with her.

I have to apologize for the recent randomness in my blog posts. With finals coming up soon I’ve had very little time to properly write anything. I hope all my readers (all ten of you haha), will be understanding in the matter. After finals pass I shall start posting a lot more interesting things than plain old text blogs.

Sorry again and help spread the word please!

Music I Heard

Music I heard with you was more than music,
And bread I broke with you was more than bread;
Now that I am without you, all is desolate;
All that was once so beautiful is dead.

Your hands once touched this table and this silver,
And I have seen your fingers hold this glass.
These things do not remember you, beloved,
And yet your touch upon them will not pass.

For it was in my heart that you moved among them,
And blessed them with your hands and with your eyes;
And in my heart they will remember always,
- They knew you once, O beautiful and wise.

‘If’

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise: 

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools; 

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!" 

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a man, my son! 

Rudyard Kipling

Happy the man, and happy he alone,

he who can call today his own:

he who, secure within, can say,

Tomorrow do thy worst, for I have lived today.

Be fair or foul, or rain or shine

the joys I have possessed, in spite of fate, are mine.

Not Heaven itself, upon the past has power,

but what has been, has been, and I have had my hour.

-Horace

Sorry I haven’t been posting too many poems lately, a lot has been on my mind keeping me distracted these past few weeks. Hopefully I’ll figure out some schedule to how I’m going to do the poem posts. Until then it’ll just be random. I think I still need a direction for where this blog is going, but no idea what to write about….

Bring me to my knees

Boxes of moving mentality
line the walls
a change is about.
There you stand
a farewell to the crowd.
They disolve into the mist
the room is smokey
clouded judgement
heralds the worst.
Shake off the feeling of
filth.
The diverging path
steming from disbelieving you.
Reset.
I will see you at the top of the world.

Every so often I will put up a poem. It could be something I wrote or something I found on the net. Today’s poem is called “Some People” by Charles Bukowski:

Some People

Some people never go crazy.
me, sometimes I’ll lie down behind the couch
for 3 or 4 days.
they’ll find me there.
it’s Cherub, they’ll say, and
they pour wine down my throat
rub my chest
sprinkle me with oils.

then, I’ll rise with a roar,
rant, rage -
curse them and the universe
as I send them scattering over the
lawn.
I’ll feel much better,
sit down to toast and eggs,
hum a little tune,
suddenly become as lovable as a
pink
overfed whale.

some people never go crazy.
what truly horrible lives
they must lead.