Monday, May 7, 2007


A little bit of free form poetry for ya'll.


The clouds float suspended in midair
Like jellyfish riding the ocean’s currents.


All of them individual
Each one is a memory ,
Or an idea,
Or an aspiration
Just waiting to become real.

They provided fuel for the imagination
We watch them pass over head
Becoming rabbits, cars, anything.
Flowing to a similar destination.
Melding, breaking apart
Fraying as if they are the
Tattered threads of a blanket.

They pass over the horizon
Behind the blue mountains and the sun,
Shining with a brilliant golden hue.
The richness of their journey
Not valued until this fleeting moment of glory.
Where all of the long day comes to a close
And the memories, ideas, and aspirations
All become real, within our hearts, and within our minds.


This poem may be a little dark in nature, but sometimes I try and write what needs to be written. Balance is all about taking the good with the bad, and the light with the dark. Without either of them, life would not be whole, and thus unsatisfying.


The wind blows The wind blows
And I fall And I jump
Off of this bridge called Off of this bridge called
Life. Life.
Someone please catch me! No one catch me!
Don’t let me slip Let me slip
Below the surface Below the surface
Of unrelenting death. Of sweet, sweet death.
Pull me from the depths. Push me down into the depths.
Don’t let me drown Let me drown
In unwanted pain. In welcomed pain.
It’s too late, I’m gone. Finally I’m gone.
I sink I sink
Down to rock bottom Down to rock bottom
I think all is lost I hope all is lost
I see a shimmering light I see a shimmering light
From above the surface From above the surface
I turn towards I turn away
I swim hard and fast I dig hard and fast
Up to the very top Under all of the sand
I gasp I gasp
Fresh air! Rancid water!
I welcome it I welcome it
I live the rest of my life happy. I die and the rest of my life is over.


This poem came one night when I was attempting to write some stuff for school. The way art speaks to me is what I tried to convey within this poem.


Art of any form is the key.
The key to unlock a mind full of ideas,
a heart full of emotions,
and a soul full of memories.

Mozart tingles many ideas
And invigorates creation.
Instruments different in make
Come together to form a masterpiece.

Van Gogh unlocks a door to inner pain,
Or perhaps a world of wonder.
A world deep behind his eyes
Beyond his night sky.

Whitman draws forth memories,
The brilliant view of each detail of life
Words flowing in seemingly simple ways
That invoke complex ways of living.

Notes that float in the air
Paints that mix on the palette
And letters strung together like pearls
They are all keys
Keys to the doors of life.



I wish I knew all the answers,
To the questions I have in life.
How successful will I be?
Who will be my wife?

I live my life thinking,
About the out come of the world.
Who will be left living,
After time has been unfurled?

I ponder all these questions.
Maybe that’s where the answers lie.
Unraveling them is my goal,
Before my time has come to die.

But how can one be certain,
That the answers are the end?
Maybe they’re just the beginning,
And a new outlook is what they lend.

I’ll keep going on in life
With these questions in my mind.
I wish I knew these answers,
So the questions I could find.

A Falling Leaf

A Falling Leaf

A falling leaf
In the winds of time
Blowing about
Into the sky it climbs.

A landing leaf
In a peaceful pond
Flowing towards a stream
Caught by a frond.

A struggling leaf
Trying to break away
Pulling hard it escapes
It’s off and astray.

A drifting leaf
On the currents of life
Going to calmer waters
Resting from the strife.

A floating leaf
On the lake of immortality
Slowly sinking
To the bottom of fatality.

A rotting leaf
Reeking of beastly death
Creating prolific mulch
A new tree takes a breath.

A growing leaf
On a fleshy twig
Starting life anew
So green and big.

A browning leaf
In the sweltering sun
Ready to drop
It’s life is done.

A falling leaf
Caught in the winds of time
Blowing about
Into the sky it climbs.

Sunday, May 6, 2007

First chapter of my book

Chapter 1
All men by nature desire knowledge.
Aristotle (384 BC - 322 BC)

The patter of the rain against my window awoke me. It was coming down in frightful torrents. The wind shattered each raindrop as it crashed into the smooth glass. Rivers of water obscured the streetlight outside. I got up and put some water on to boil. This night wasn’t a new occurrence. I had been unable to sleep for months on end; not since the accident. Who could possibly sleep when each night they went to sleep with the vision of headlights blaring in their mind?
This night was different however. I had just put my teabag in my mug when I got the call.
“Yeah this is Jones”
The voice on the other end sounded tired and worn out, “Something’s happened; we need you at the station as soon as possible.”
“I’ll be there in ten.”
I hadn’t given much thought as to what could have happened that late at night. I had been on call before, but in a small town like this, nothing ever happens. Well nothing until tonight. When I got to the station I was expecting someone to tell me that there was a heart attack, or one of the elderly had died in their sleep. This wasn’t the case. The mayor’s daughter was dead. This was a complete shock to everyone. She was the straight A student, the honor roll extraordinaire, the marathon runner, the all around American girl.
This town never had a young child like this die. We had accidents before, but none that resulted in death. I had worked similar cases before, and everything was solved within a couple of days and life could go on. It was always the same; the girl woke up one night because she was thirsty. She walks toward the stairs and trips. She falls, she gets a concussion, the parents aren’t home so no one hears it happen, and she dies. I thought it was that easy, but it wasn’t. This case bothered me for some reason. It wasn’t the fact that an 18 year old girl was dead, it was that everything was falling into place, almost to the point of perfection.