Wednesday, January 11, 2012

If you really knew me

If you really knew me you'd know that I am sick.
You'd know that I try to be awkward.
You'd know that I love girls.
You'd know I that I am sick.
And most people know me.
An that's sick.


Shake the dust

This is for the fat girls.

This is for the little brothers.

This is for the school-yard wimps, this is for the childhood bullies who tormented them.

This is for the former prom queen, this is for the milk-crate ball players.

This is for the nighttime cereal eaters and for the retired, elderly Wal-Mart store front door greeters. Shake the dust.

This is for the benches and the people sitting upon them,

for the bus drivers driving a million broken hymns,

for the men who have to hold down three jobs simply to hold up their children,

for the nighttime schoolers and the midnight bike riders who are trying to fly. Shake the dust.

This is for the two-year-olds who cannot be understood because they speak half-English and half-god. Shake the dust.

For the girls with the brothers who are going crazy,

for those gym class wall flowers and the twelve-year-olds afraid of taking public showers,

for the kid who's always late to class because he forgets the combination to his lockers,

for the girl who loves somebody else. Shake the dust.

This is for the hard men, the hard men who want to love but know that it won't come.

For the ones who are forgotten, the ones the amendments do not stand up for.

For the ones who are told to speak only when you are spoken to and then are never spoken to. Speak every time you stand so you do not forget yourself.

Do not let a moment go by that doesn't remind you that your heart beats 900 times a day and that there are enough gallons of blood to make you an ocean.

Do not settle for letting these waves settle and the dust to collect in your veins.

This is for the celibate pedophile who keeps on struggling,

for the poetry teachers and for the people who go on vacations alone.

For the sweat that drips off of Mick Jaggers' singing lips and for the shaking skirt on Tina Turner's shaking hips, for the heavens and for the hells through which Tina has lived.

This is for the tired and for the dreamers and for those families who'll never be like the Cleavers with perfectly made dinners and sons like Wally and the Beaver.

This is for the biggots,

this is for the sexists,

this is for the killers.

This is for the big house, pen-sentenced cats becoming redeemers and for the springtime that always shows up after the winters.

This? This is for you.

Make sure that by the time fisherman returns you are gone.

Because just like the days, I burn both ends and every time I write, every time I open my eyes I am cutting out a part of myself to give to you.

So shake the dust and take me with you when you do for none of this has never been for me.

All that pushes and pulls, pushes and pulls for you.

So grab this world by its clothespins and shake it out again and again and jump on top and take it for a spin and when you hop off shake it again for this is yours.

Make my words worth it, make this not just another poem that I write, not just another poem like just another night that sits heavy above us all.

Walk into it, breathe it in, let is crash through the halls of your arms at the millions of years of millions of poets coursing like blood pumping and pushing making you live, shaking the dust.

So when the world knocks at your front door, clutch the knob and open on up, running forward into its widespread greeting arms with your hands before you, fingertips trembling though they may be.

My reflection:
Im jealous of Anis Mojgani. Because he is sick. All of his poems really hit me. Especially this one. The first line. The best first like I've ever seen. The sickest first like. "this is for the fat girls." I also love the way he looks. He's way sick looking.

Monday, December 12, 2011

This is for you

This is for the women
This is for the girls
This is for the children
That all get beaten and abused by their dads' and husbands

Speak up

This is for the working class
This is for the underpaid thief
This is for the EMOtional kids
This is for the single, pregnant mother
This is for the mentally retarded

Speak up

You are all lost and buried under,
All those who think they're better than you.
You are part of the 8th wonder,
But you are living out of a shoe.

This is for the 8th wonder of the world
This is for you

Speak up

Sunday, December 4, 2011


I had a dream one night,
A dream where I woke up to angels at the foot of my bed telling me to get out
Waving me into the life that’s better.
I tried to get out of my bed and follow the light
So they could see me bright.
But they drifted away until it was dark,
Before I could catch them.
I woke up that morning with a single sheet over me.
So cold in my room I could see my breath,
But my body was steaming.
As if I was controlled by the aspiration of the light.

That night was not the last time I would see the light.

I keep forgetting to love those I hate

I find myself reading something over and over,
my mind focusing between the lines.
People think that I am stupid
But I go deeper than they couldn’t have reached.
I hate those people.
The people who judge
That nudge, don’t drudge, eat fudge.
Nothing but a smudge on the pavement.
But when will we own ourselves completely?
We can’t fight fire with fire. 
Give them something that they won’t expect.
Something grueling rather than something easy.
Love towards that person that they never get.

You will be warm now, with no restriction to trail the angels,
Your dream will twist into reality.
And that night will be the last time you will see the dark.

Monday, November 21, 2011

IP Man

Ordinary World-
Chinese Kung Fu Master, greater than all other kung fu masters.  Just wanting to live his life with his family
Call to Adventure-
WWII, Japanese takes over china and he tries to survive with his family.
Refusal of the call-
Japanese keep asking all Chinese to fight against Japanese soldiers and Ip man Refuses.  He avoids all violence until it is absolutely necessary.
Meeting the Mentor-
He was his own mentor.  He realized that he needs to fight to keep his family alive and to keep china itself alive.
Crossing the Threshold-
Goes from working to get rice to feed his family and himself to fighting to stand up for the Chinese and to protect his family.
Tests, Allies, Enemies-
His only allies are his brother and his workers. Enemies are the Japanese and a select few of the chinese who have betrayed their country.  He challenged the Japanese to fight 10 of the japanese soldiers and he kicked their a$$'s.
He teaches his brothers workers how to fight for themselves.  He realizes that he is the only one who can save the people.
He fought the Japanese leader/General and killed him with a his eyes closed, not really, but it was that easy.  He got shot by one of the Generals men and fell off of the stage.
He survived and moved to Hong Kong, started a school of martial arts there.  As a matter of fact he was Bruce Lee's Mentor. 

Sunday, November 13, 2011

Ordinary World

 Meet Oliver, A teenager of too much awkward, obsession of mustaches and craves attention. Every week day for 5 years he would wake up every morning to his Iphone 10 minutes before 7:20 when he was supposed to leave to school.  Every week day for 5 years Oliver would get a reminder by his Iphone to smile at atleast 20 of the 924 girls at his school.  Every week day for 5 years Oliver would grease his hair rather than parting it making it so that he could form it better throughout the day.  His Iphone thought it made him look like a Druggie, but didn't know how to tell him.  Every week day for 5 years Oliver would go to bed at approximately 11:45 setting his alarm for 10 minutes before 7:20, and placing it to rest on his nightstand.  That was of course before Friday.  On that particular Friday, Olivers Iphone, Changed everything.

During English that Friday, Olivers class was reading silently.  His Iphone then began to vibrate and project sounds that Oliver could not stop.  That is when he was able to shut it off.  He raised his head and gazed down the elongated hallway to focus on a woman.  He could tell that she had great beauty from a far, she must be new.  Disregarding what had just saw he went to step back into his class room, reaching for the handle his Iphone erupted again.  So Oliver stepped back to discontinue the trying sound.  He again looked up to see the beauty 20 feet walking towards him.  Oliver looked back down continuing to terminate the noise.  Back up to see her half the distance that she was. He smiled and waved,  smiling back she came up to him and asked "Hi, I'm new here, do you know where Mr. Nelson's room is for creative writing?'.  Olivers heart was pounding, and replied "No way, that's my class, follow me."
He escorts her to Mr. Nelson and sits down can't stop taking his eyes off of her.  She sits down in the empty seat next to Oliver.  She leans over to me saying, "My name is Siri, thanks for your help." Oliver answers saying, "So do you want to go out sometime?" as he is pulling out his Iphone.  Siri looks at his face with hesitancy, looks down and see's his Iphone, smiles and lookes back up and replies...

Sunday, November 6, 2011


Flower - Moby
In the basement with your chick, this song comes on.  The only thing that feels right is bust out a rhyme.  so you flow it.  Your girl realizes that you live in a poem and leaves you.  you don't care, keep bustin the rap.
Dear God - Monsters of Folk
Youre walking down the slums of SLC, its raining.  A man pulls up an a black car gets out and messes with you, time slows, where are you God? Pleading, begging for help.  Blessings come in.
Sweet Darlin'- She & Him
Walking through a field of corn, girl walks up to you and holds you.  You don't want a girlfriend, you tell her no.  She sings to you, I need you. you give in. You love eachother, the story is over.