I Told You

Come on now, just let me in

Do all these writings have to have some deep meaning

Like a Woody Allen film?

I see lots of movies

Him and Frank O'Hara are two of my idols

How much time was wasted?

Who am I without these movies?

What could I have been?

Poetry is so self-obssesed

But what else am I going to write about?

I can't write about your life, or make insights

Into your motivations and actions

But I told you to be better

I told you to be kind

I saw how you were dressed

Now who the hell am I?

Did you ever see something in me?

Or was I just another high?

Were you trying to seem older?

By treating me so fine?

I'm sorry that I don't know what to apologize for

Where did we go? Were we ever there?

Why do all my poems come back to this? To you?

So many drafts discarded, so many wasted nights

Writing things completely different, but all the ending rhymes

Just come back to this, to you and the sea

To another lonely night and a wasted opportunity

Moondust Memories

When things don't seem to go just right

And we pause and look up into the night

We see the moon and it seems that it doesn't care at all but

We're stuck with it for as long as we're with it

And it's not pretty but we might as well be proud of it

And I don't know where we went wrong

Our sense of wonder isn't as strong as some

People might want it to be

One night I decided to stop time

When my girl knelt down and began to cry

She said it's my life, not your life and I can end it when I want!

What did I do to come to this situation?

And the moon responded that I was on probation

For making people's lives miserable

Hurting everyone I know and my girl

I said wow you can talk what does that mean

Should I evaluate my life and all those silly things?

And then the moon said I don't know anything,

I'm just a rock in the sky so you should still bring

Your feelings along as we talk along

Time really flies your having fun doesn't it?

I asked the moon if I should go off to save the world

To make up for the hurt I've hurled

At anyone who listened and got lost in transmission?

The moon said get on with your life

Stop stopping time you're only prolonging your place in the moonlight

My head is heavy but my gaze was steady

The moon wasn't going to win that easily

I said you're not my psychologist, for all I know you don't really exist

You're just rock, you're not smart, you can't start to be part

Of the world because you only show up in the dark

The moon retorted that he's really important

And he shows up at night because the world needs sorting

If the world was pitch black every night there'd be fights

And the sights would burn out all the whites of your eyes

The moon said he was mirror, but what does that mean?

He said I could see everybody who wanted to be

On the moon and looked up at it when they couldn't sleep

At the exact same moment the moon was looking at me

And even though we would would never be looking

At each other's faces we could still cooking

The exact same meal at the exact same time

And could see each other without looking in the other's eyes

Computers

I have a feeling that life would be better without these computers

Pulling everyone apart, so that all these losers

Can sit and chat on the internet all day

Saying whatever things they want to say

Ranting about politics, movies, or the even the weather

Everyone's got a voice now is how its described in the paper

Which is online now conveniently

Causing death to the noble paper industry

And Facebook isn't helping things much

Letting us all connect and keep in touch

But is that really what it does?

Or does it let us meet people without meeting up?

This generation doesn't know how to call friends

They'd rather text the news before speaking to them

This generation's lack of communication is

Already replacing the sensation

Of calling someone up on a date after the wait

Of the universally accepted two days

After you meet some nice girl at a party

And she gives you her number and says call me

There's no Facebook, no texting

No flirting through impersonal messaging

Instead you lay awake that night

Wanting to call every time you might

Happen to look at the clock

Time moves slowly when you know you've got

48 more hours until you're able to call

And the butterflies are floating around in your stomach

And you can't get on Facebook, look up, and start pumping

Your mind full of the things that she likes

On her profile page after she accepts your invite

To be your friend in a strictly digital sense

So you can talk about things she's already mentioned

On the computer that's she passionate for

And you're not interested in them so you're

Pandering to her good natured body

Not at all interested in her personality

You can just fake it and be totally phony

And she'd never know it until the next morning

Computers have changed things in so many ways

Direct deposit? I'd rather stare my check in the face

How can you trust this system of digital money?

Is it even real or is it a funny

Joke on Americans to keep us in check

Letting the government take whatever they want when they can't

Seem to squeeze any more money into the national debt

And then we see our money gone and start to fret

We we all victims of identity theft?

The nation's in turmoil and we can't forget

That we never even saw our money and what we have left

Is what's in our wallet, and not in our checks

But who carries cash anymore? It seems to be dead

Like bellbottoms, buses, and aerosol cans

All our cash disappeared with the rest

I wish I kept all my money under my bed

In my piggy bank I got back when I was ten

On my birthday I thought I was too old for it then

Now I wished I didn't smash it over and over again

This probably won't happen but just stop and think

How far will we go with this computer thing?

Was life simpler back in the day?

Maybe, but we've got to live with the mistakes we've made

Those Dang Kids!

When I was a kid in high school I thought I had it all

Straight A's, kinda tall, and had a bounce when I walked

My Math class was the worst because everyone was stupid

And I'd lose it when the teacher would stop class just to prove it

He would always say we were the worst class he ever had

He failed us so bad that we all got mad and told our dads

That he touched us in a place that made us sad

So he got fired the next day and the class was ecstatic

But the next teacher was so pale he could've been locked in an attic

For at least 30 years and that would explain his appearance

He disappeared when the lights were on and we couldn't even see him

So this bully kid started making fun of him one day

And the whole class laughed except me because that bully's gay

So I told him to shut his fat face when he was yelling

That the teacher's skeleton was as visible as his melon-

Shaped head that was too big for his puny shoulders

That one probably hurt and cut so deep it burned

The teacher because his eyes locked and watered up

And you'd need a huge cup to catch all the tears that dropped

Then the bully turned around and looked straight at me

Asking if there was a problem and if I knew wrestling

Because he was the captain of our school's team and he religiously

Practiced every day so no one would dare to be messing

Around with him because he knew how to fight and he egged me

That I would drop in two seconds flat if he test me

But I said fuck you, I'm not scared, there's no pee in my underwear

So he crossed the room like a giant bear, from here to there, and grabbed me by my hair

He threw me across the room so fast from the front to the back

That my head hit the wall with a sound like splat

When I got up he was rushing at me and put me in a headlock,

Told me to say uncle but I said suck my cock

So he threw me again, this time over a desk

And I wished I had a gun and a bulletproof vest

Because I would've ended him right there in the classroom

But I was armed only with my brain and my attitude

So I grabbed the stapler and bashed him over the head

Pierced his skull through his forehead and pulled his long dreads

He screamed out loud and I shouted a loud "Yes!"

I banged his head against the wall and asked if he could breathe

And I know he couldn't see because his eyes welled up instantly

From all the pain I had caused him as he started to cry

He better kiss that badass reputation goodbye

Because I just destroyed it and some of his soul at that

All because I defended a teacher during Math.

Summer Nights

When I go out at night to do whatever it is

I do

I hope you don't worry that green little head of yours

The trees of light will be my guiding

light

back to your arms of willpower

Sometimes I wish my life was like a TV

show

I hope it wouldn't get cancelled

My life is already fake enough as

it is anyway

I guess this really is reality television

I feel trapped during the night unless I'm with someone who

knows how to have

a good time

Hopefully we can just go to the movies and watch things we have already

witnessed

in years past

Life is the rewinder I had as a kid that played back my VHS tapes so I could

watch them again from the

beginning

When the velvet leaves of winter come crashing down through our vortex of

intimacy

I'll keep my hands at my side

If time is time and your time is measured in music, then will you

drown

in the sidewalk's enticing collection of wines?

I know you have more resolve than that to fall for such folly

When I come back late that night and you are quietly

asleep

I promise not to wake you I won't make one sound

Your hair won't even be able to hear me (or whisper for that matter)

You won't regret letting me stay out late because I haven't

done anything that bad

Your sheets will stay warm and your mind will stay precariously between

sailors and the Jets

I love you, and don't worry about anything

I'll leave the light off

Thoughts in the Rainstorm

CHARACTERS:

Isaac: a mid-twenties grad student

Annie: Isaac's girlfriend

SETTING: Isaac's and Annie's room

Thoughts in the Rainstorm

Isaac: Do we really have to go to this party tonight?

Annie: Of course we do. The author always shows up for her own book launching.

Isaac: Yeah but all those stuffed-shirt phonies are going to be there. You know I can't stand to hear that psudeo-intellectual babble they spew out about modes of alienation in contemporary society or whatever.

Annie: This is my first novel released by a publisher and I really want to make a good impression. Can you act charming for one night please?

Isaac: What? Do I never act charming?

Annie: Why are you so hostile tonight?

Isaac: Because the Yankees are playing the Red Sox on TV.

Annie: Oh come on Isaac they play, like, 200 games a season right?

Isaac: No. Not 200. And this is the biggest rivalry in the history of sports. It's America's pastime. It represents a younger United States that could sit back and relax and enjoy a slow game of baseball all afternoon. Now everyone is just bored by it.

Annie: Maybe because it's boring?

Isaac: You've just been bombarded by too much MTV and Michael Bay movies to appreciate a slower, more methodical game.

Annie: And you don't think you talk like an elitist intellectual?

Isaac: I just don't like making fake insights with people discussing the decay of the modern man or the myth of the American Dream or something like that.

Annie: Well a lot of them are professors you know. Some of yours might even be at the party tonight.

Isaac: And yet another reason to go...

Annie: What? You don't like any of your professors?

Isaac: My professors are cool. But they're like any other professors. You might talk and philosophize with them during class, but you never want to see them outside the class.

Annie: Why not?

Isaac: Because then your bubble of freedom is burst the moment they start talking. You're like, "Oh yeah I have a paper to write in his class," or "I can't believed I failed her test last week".

Annie: Oh come on Isaac it can't be that bad.

Isaac: Well it's not fun either.

Annie: Why do you always reduce every situation to it's worst possible outcome?

Isaac: Annie, we've been dating three years, you know it's how I function.

Annie: Yeah I know, but I don't think like that.

Isaac: Opposites attract.

Annie: Somehow.

Isaac: ... so are we really going to the party tonight?

Annie: Of course we are, Isaac.

Isaac: Well do they have a television there?

Annie: No. Remember? Jason and Mary don't own one.

Isaac: Of couse they don't. And I assume they only buy organic food at farmer's markets or Whole Foods right?

Annie: What is that supposed to mean?

Isaac: You know... after they're done shopping they put the food in the back of their hybrid car and drive home to read The Onion or something because they don't have a TV.

Annie: I don't know that much about my publisher.

Isaac: Just your typical upper-middle class, city-dwelling hipster probably.

Annie: We have to leave in 30 minutes Isaac. You should put on something nicer.

Isaac: What my blue jeans aren't formal enough?

Annie: Are you serious?

Isaac: I thought informal was the new formal.

Annie: Yeah and Blu-Ray's the new DVD.

Isaac: Hey it's going to happen someday. When they lower the prices and movies start to be only released on Blu-Ray, I'll say I told you so.

Annie: Ok, but while we're waiting can you get dressed?

Isaac: Ok... so you don't like the jeans?

Annie: Just get some nice clothes on!

Isaac: (laughs) Ok ok.

Annie: Do you think this book's going to make me famous?

Isaac: I never try to over-analyze a situation that's reliant on variables.

Annie: Just humor me then.

Isaac: I honestly don't know. I think it's good enough to get you recognized, but I can't predict the patterns of the fickle American public.

Annie: Thanks for the confidence.

Isaac: You know I try my hardest never to lie.

Annie: Well there's a fine line between lying and encouragement.

Isaac: Yeah a non-existant one.

Annie: Isaac. Please get ready.

Isaac: I am getting ready. I'm building a protective shield around my brain to guard me against the philosophical rambling of your compatriots.

Annie: Well they are very knowledgeable.

Isaac: With great knowledge, comes great hubris.

Annie: (laughs) I'm not going to deny that.

Isaac: (after getting dressed). You know, I think you are going to be famous.

Annie: Really?

Isaac: Yeah of course. It's a great book, especially for a debut.

Annie: Aw thanks Isaac. I knew there was a reason I'm in love with you. (laughs)

Isaac: (laughs) Only one reason?

Annie: No way.

Isaac: Yep, we're going to hit the big time when your book comes out.

Annie: I hope so. Why don't you share your "insights" with the stuffed-shirts at the party?

Isaac: You think they would care?

Annie: Well they better, because I sure do.

Isaac: (smiles) Thanks Annie.

Little Town

Sometimes when I'm out wondering,

Deciding what I should dream

I lie in the fields under the sun

And feel the cooling breeze

I watch the wild horses run by,

Such mighty steeds

They run into the horizon and

Meet the clouds I see

I walk down to the creek,

Surrounded by towering trees

I hear the calming rustling

Of spring's tree's leaves

I dip my hands into the water

And wash them sparkling clean

I hear the buzz of nature's pests

And wouldn't change a thing

I walk onto the bridge that

Surveys the idyllic scene,

The bubbling creek runs underneath

With the crowded fish swimming

The branches sway and wind blows

As the birds sing

Clouds pass in front of the sun

But the shade is fleeting

After a day of wandering I

Tire and then I see

Old Pa's Place and Bar

And get excited as can be

They're no frowns allowed inside,

Leave them at the door

They're so many things inside

You won't know what's in store

Well...

There's a dog in the den

While the cat takes a nap

And the fire burns bright with a pop and a snap

There'll be chicken on your chin

And your belly will begin

To fill up so much that you can't fit in

The clothes that you came with

But the buzz from the beer

Will make you unaware as it fills you with cheer

Just remember before you eat that you have to say grace

And you'll have a great time at Old Pa's Place!

The Manuscript

I finished the last page of my novel this morning. But I had no sigh of relief, no shout of enthusiasm that my first book was finally complete. I looked up from my typewriter (I'm old-fashioned like that). The living area is nothing special: a couch, TV, coffee table. I never understood why I bought the table and not just a footrest. Who am I trying to impress? The kitchen looks healthy enough when factoring in the amount of garbage that overflows the bin. My bedroom is actually pretty nice, I have a large bed and a pretty high ceiling. The carpet is lovely when all my clothes aren't lying on it. If Mom and Dad saw that this is what they were paying for I... actually I don't really care anymore. I looked down at the slim volume that took three years from me. Why don't I feel anything?

I put my sweatshirt on over my clothes and made some cereal. My apartment is so quiet, empty. Maybe I'm just going through the motions of life, playing it safe for no particular reason. I can't believe I actually lived here, writing a novel. It was my dream for as long as I can remember, the one thing my parents actually agreed on supporting together. I can't believe they're paying my rent. How pathetic. I grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, some soap opera dissolved onto the screen. I never realized how boring those shows were until I starting working from home, at least it's better than the news.

I put on my shoes, grabbed my manuscript, and walked to the Starbucks. It's a nice place, quiet, small, intimate. The smell of coffee washed over me as I entered. James, the cashier, waved as I came to order.

"Hey did you finish your book?"

"Yeah James, I did actually. And yes, you can be the first to read it just like I promised."

"Thanks! So can you finally tell me what it's about?"

"How about you just read it and find out?"

"Wow sorry, man. Bad day?"

"All the days feel the same now. My mind is in the same exact same state every day while I'm wasting away in my apartment. I want to feel things again. Really... feel them."

" You really are a giant drama queen, you know that?"

"Okay," I said, about to leave.

"Oh come on you're not that sensitive!", James started to laugh.

"Yeah, I guess I start to just go crazy when I'm in there too long. Here, you can take a look at it if you want."

James studied the title of the manuscript. I could feel the slight breeze as he flipped through the pages, seeing if it actually looked like something professional.

"So is it about your big brother?" he asked

"Why in the hell would I write about him?"

"I just thought it would be thought-provoking material, the affect something like that has on a younger brother like yourself."

"If you want to hear his story why don't you go up there and visit him yourself? Just make sure to schedule a phone call and not a conjugal visit."

"I'm just saying it might be something to write about in the future. I have no idea how it affected you at such a young age. "

"Well I know how it affected my parents. They always loved him the most even though he always got in trouble. I was the good son, why didn't they love me? Or each other?"

James lapsed into silence, not really knowing what to say. Why can't the past just stay dead? Next to my sister?

"Is it a love story?", James asked.

"No."

"Mystery?"

"No."

"Fantasy?"

"No."

"Adventure?"

"No."

"Well what the hell is it about then?", he asked half-smiling.

"It's just about a guy all right? It's about him and a very crucial time in his life."

James paused for a second, "Oh that sounds... interesting? See you guys later!", he waved goodbye to a couple leaving the store.

"Do you just become friends with everyone who walks in here?"

"Pretty much."

How can someone do that?

"I don't know how to make friends anymore. It seems like no one even cares about me. They're probably all just jealous."

James rolled his eyes, I looked at my watch. I don't even know why I keep track of time anymore.

"Maybe if you put yourself out there a little more you would feel better," coaxed James, "I know that you've never been truly back to your old self after your sister-"

"Will you just shut up about my personal life? I don't ever talk about yours, but you're always knee-deep in mine. Wading through it like it's your own personal swimming pool."

"I'm just saying you have a lot of baggage..."

"Okay, I'm going to leave now, I'm probably holding up your line anyway." I looked behind me and didn't see anyone waiting for coffee. Great.

"Yeah go ahead, you've complained to me a million times about the same exact things," said James unevenly, "Seriously what are you trying to do? How is trying to deflect all your problems on me a solution to your misery?"

"You know what?", I said, grabbing the manuscript, "You don't have to read this."

"You're just going to leave? I want to help you."

"Sometimes I don't even know why you talk to me," I muttered.

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah. You don't like me. You just humor me and make fun of me like I'm some kind of clown. You don't even like the idea for my book, how can you not support me at a time like this? You're my only friend and right as I need support you just back out on me?"

"Are you kidding?" he hissed, "All I've done is given you support. You come in here and confess all your problems and I listen like a good friend. But what do you do? You're never interested in anything else but your own problems. Don't you have better things to think about?"

"Oh please," I stated, "You're only my friend because you have to be friends with everyone. No one is able to hate James because he's just way to nice. Everybody loves him!"

"You were right, you should go."

"I knew it! I knew you weren't my friend, why would you want to be friends with me anyway right?"

"Because no one else wants to deal with you! Do you think anyone else cares about your problems? Do you think anyone is even remotely concerned about your well-being? Your parents don't thats for sure. And how do they make that up to you? By paying your rent and helping you live out your dream. Oh my God, your life's so hard! You act like you're above us all because you've had some rough spots in your time, condemning people you've never even talked to. Who are you to judge? You're just some guy. Look at yourself. You don't make any money, you don't have any prospects, and you depend on your parents for everything. You need to grow up and do something with your life, get a real job, make a career, do your writing on the side, but stop complaining all the time. It's like you're stuck in this loop of self-loathing and isolation, thinking and not doing, mulling over past mistakes instead of trying to do new things. Stop acting like your some sort of god. All you do is wrap yourself up in your own personal problems so you can avoid dealing with the bigger issues that are pressing down on you. You don't want to think about the years you've wasted, or that you have no idea what's going to happen next for you. So what do you do? You fill your head with issues and obstacles to keep you in the dark about where you truly are in life. Wake up. At least I know where I am, in a Starbucks, going nowhere. I'm not happy about it, but I can do things to move forward in life because I know where my starting line is. You don't even know there's a race going on."

I stood silent, the rest of the customers stared at us with undivided attention.

"Wow... did you rehearse that?"

He sighed deeply, "Just get out," he whispered.

I left enraged, kicking the door open on my way out. It was night-time now, the moon shining brightly. The stars twinkled in and out of sight, time machines. I hated how he was right about everything. He's always right. Sometimes I look up at the stars. Can't we all just go home now? I walked past the bum who sometimes loiters by my apartment building. It was freezing and he had his hands over the fire that was burning in the barrel. He seemed lonely so I stood beside him. I looked at the manuscript in my hands. Is this what was holding me back? Was this the lock on my happiness? The fire was warm, bright. I felt the light weight of the manuscript. James was right, who would care about me? Some no-name writer with little ambition or drive to succeed? My book was a mental institution, keeping me locked up and slowly going insane, even though I was self-committed.

Before I knew what was happening the manuscript was burning up in the barrel. My hands were outreached as if I just dropped it in, I guess I did. There was no weight lifted off my shoulders, no feeling of freedom attached with this action. I knew it had to be done though, maybe because deep down I knew it was just a culmination of my cynical attitude towards people in general. Well that's fading slowly, a sunset. James knew what he was talking about though. My life isn't the center of the universe, but it's the center of my universe. I can't let it just slip away anymore, wasting my time writing a narcissistic novel that only fuels my contempt for the hand that's been dealt to me. We're just people. We all have our problems and fears. We're not perfect, we don't agree on everything, but we don't have to. We just are.

Short story ideas

1) a day in the life of a writer with writer's block

2) love triangle between a guy who's in love with a girl that's in a long term relationship with someone else

3) the craziest sleepover ever

4) adjusting to college life

You're My Only Decision

Ten decisions shape your life

But I'm aware of only one

You're my daydream come true

So please take that if you would

Of all the girls I've ever loved

I've decided you're the one

And I said, "I'm so in love with you."

And you said, "I feel the same way too."

Then I woke up and went to school

Reliving the dream I went through

Everybody was well prepared

But everyone was a little scared

Valentine's Day can make or break

The soul of a man who makes a mistake

But then I see you and all the days

Of waiting and planning have gone to waste

All of it goes out the door

I only have instinct and nothing more

What should I say?

Before you pass me and walk away?

If there's a time when we must fail

I know it seems to entail

This day because it seems

That I've never had luck with dreams

But now it's time to change all that

I won't walk away, I will fight back

Against the streak of luck

That's made me lose more than enough

I smell your perfume, you're in front of me now

I take a deep breath and open my mouth

My Poems Are More Like Diary Entries Anyway

Like so many nights before,

I sit alone in my room

I try not to think about home

because I get way too nostalgic,

but I have nothing better to do

I remember playing tennis for

my school and loving the way the

clouds looked through the chain-linked fence

It seemed like if I got up there I'd

just jump around on them like trampolines

I remember going off campus to eat

lunch with my friend, we would talk about

things and listen to our coma-inducing music

We learned a lot about each other, and the world

Was it ever cloudy back then?

I remember falling in love out there on the

courts, and the way the rain left whenever she was happy

I remember asking her out right there

in the parking lot, and almost crashing the car

with road rage afterwards

I remember seeing all the art-house movies

down in Austin with my friend and my brother

How can such a little theater hold a universe of memories?

I can't listen to my music, it reminds me

too much of the unending sunshine back then

My counselor says I need pills for this,

is that the answer for everything these days?

This seems like a better coping strategy, even with the

weight of memory on my head, but like so

many nights before, I cry

Once They Get in Here, It's Over, Pal

Seeing stars through an underwater lens, she's pissed

That this seemingly unending bliss,

Will only exist in the mist

Of the memory forming in the back of her blossoming mind

About her half-troubled/half-treasured life

In the amber, cloud-streaked twilight

When she sees a plane in the sky

Leaving a trail of cloud behind,

All of her conquering and triumphs in life

Are eclipsed by the tiny plane without even trying

The picket fence that encompasses her farm is white

As she lies under the trees and sighs,

"I should do this all the time."

Because the look of the sunlight through the trees

Is a humbling, beautiful scene

It's a surrealistic masterpiece

When she smiles the sun comes out

Like he was muttering his lines while the curtain was down

But now he has them memorized,

Beaming down on the love of his life

But the picturesque scene is strangled by the chords of reality

As summer exits the stage suddenly

And takes all the good things

Fall enters and brings gray, cold clouds of snow

Is there a smile on her face? Oh, no,

While the sun's written out of the show

She suffers through the winter,

Praying and hoping that things will get better

And then spring comes, but at a price

She's realized she's wasted half a year of her life

The Prisoner

When I first saw you I thought you were beautiful

I looked for my breath but you'd already taken it

You looked into my eyes and my heart filled my ears

Are you righteous? Kind? Do you see beauty in things?

I thought you liked me because I actually acted liked myself

I never thought I would see you again so, "Why not?"

We're all so naive when we wake up in the morning

Are you what I've been waiting for? Are you the sunlight?

When we met the next week we barely saw each other

But then I knew what I wanted

Whenever I think of you cocoons burst in my stomach and food tastes like last week's breezes

Is your beauty only surpassed by your soul? Are you a dream?

It was a month until I saw you again but it was eternity

We said hi but you went away after that

When you came back to the house that night I looked up and saw my heels

What do you think about? Do you write about me too?

The sea of your eyes are the answers to the universe

I think if I swam in them I could be cured of anything

You lit this flame in me

I was a prisoner, you set me free

I am your prisoner

Hi!

Welcome to my new blog! I'll be putting my assignments for my creative writing class on here. Feel free to comment and tell me what you think.

P.S. I'm not that good of a writer, I took this class to get better at it and because it seemed interesting and fun.

Thanks!