Allure

I sense you are near

Heart is dancing for us both

Let me hold your hand

     
#haiku

(P)ower

Palaces made by impoverished people,

Pillaging armies and promises of equal

Opportunities hide behind a plume of evil.

Persistence provides the power of the eagle

Political advantages in a pyramid scheme.

Pardons permit the economic regimes,

While penalties to a few perpetuate the means

To propagate corporations and persecute the “unclean.”

Paranoid psychotics attempt to spread pandemonium,

Pretentiously pretending to be sanctimonious,

And plotting to produce piles of plutonium;

Proposing and controlling an impractical dominion.

We pollute the environment and proliferate destruction,

While partisan politicians prescribe obstructions,

Preventing solutions and promoting combustion;

Planning a post-apocalyptic reconstruction.

Penitentiaries expand and empower the police,

Producing unemployed ex-cons per release.

Privileged wardens receive payoffs that increase

Protections for bribes that make the prosperous obese.

Pageantry passively occupies the pedestrians

While Paramount Pictures manipulate the thespians

Pompous populations fall victim to the delirium

Profligacy and panache are the most nefarious

Preordained pastors predominate the masses

Preciously offering the heavenly passage

Partitioning humanity like a party of fascists

Passionately pristine until turning into ashes

Power perverts all, even the most pure

We as a people must passionately endure

Patience and presence of mind can be the cure

Against this picture of perfection that is only an allure

The Blur

Fragments of color, light and lack thereof

The objects begin and end together

Light shines, from down below and high above

Shapes as thin as the width of a feather

Colors blend as they merge in unity

Unable to recognize distinction

I fight for resemblance, some clarity

My vision reaches close to extinction

Swirling masses begin to swell

like waves crashing along the shore

This culmination of blindness spells

my mind, meditation is the cure

Perhaps somehow I’ll break this feeling

Escape the hopelessness, the blur

If not I know that this ceiling

Will collapse and earth will absorb

My body, my mind, my everything

Life and death’s own accord

Meaningless, they are these feelings

Feelings, with which I cannot afford

Aeroplanes in the Sky

As everyone continued to relax and enjoy each other’s company, the evening reached that perfect moment when the sun completely disappeared beyond the horizon, but light still permeated the area.  For this group of friends it signaled the end of their gathering, as each made their way back to their own separate domiciles.  Craig had the absolute shortest distance to travel as he lived five houses down from the abandoned lot they presently occupied.  While the lot itself truly remained abandoned, it so commonly housed groups and meetings of all kinds that the average passerby would never realize that no owner actually controlled the property.  Even the local police paid no attention to the constant traffic of drug dealers, prostitutes, and vagrants.  It just so happened that this currently dispersing group had no affiliation with any of the aforementioned professions or lack thereof, but rather they utilized the location to partake in the occasional recreational drug.  They even named the lot “the spot” regardless of how little creativity the name possessed.

This particular time Craig smoked so much marijuana that he felt like he was floating home, even though quite clearly he walked back.  His legs felt like balloons full of helium as he took each step.  His friend Barry followed slightly behind as he did not live in the neighborhood and instead parked outside of Craig's house.  Barry had been a regular at Craig's house since his eleventh birthday party and made this walk from the abandoned lot so many times he swore he could do it blind folded.  That too turned out to be completely unrealistic, as it was common knowledge that every time Barry smoked he became wildly disoriented and completely lost his since of direction.  They continued to walk through the middle of the residential street so slowly that glaciers could have formed in the street they occupied. 

Time almost seemed to slow down as they crossed in front of the third house on the west end of the block.  The oak trees branched nearly twenty feet tall and loomed over the street, the shadows starting to engulf the two figures as they continued to meander down the road. The darkness crept up on them and they became more disoriented as the trek progressed.  In the faint distance the sound of an engine emanated from behind the lot they had just left. 

Suddenly the roar grew louder and the deafening sound of an F-22 fighter jet unleashed itself from beyond the houses.  Looking above, Barry shouted at Craig to find cover, only to be completely drowned out by roaring engines as two jets covered in lights streaked across the reddening night sky.  The dull grey wings of the lead jet rippled through the current of the jet stream as it accelerated ahead of the pursuing second.  It had all the markings of a United States fighter jet, and appeared combat tested, with slightly charred marks and scratches on the sides and underbelly.  The follower was black as night without any emblems or symbols and four white torpedo missiles adorned the wings menacingly. 

Without any warning or caution the furthest left missile erupted from behind as it jettisoned from the left wing of the following fighter plane.  It careened forward and locked on directly to the tail of the preceding grey jet, a trail of gray smoke followed the missile.  Inches from impact, Barry grasped Craig by the collar of his shirt and yanked him in to the bushes of a neighbor’s house directly across the street from the third house on the west end of the block.  A blinding burst of heat and light flashed in his face as he leapt forward landing flat on his stomach underneath the foliage.  The leap was akin to the move utilized by the soldiers in the video game “Modern Warfare 3”; the game being both of the young men’s only connection to the visualization of combat and war.  A sickening whistle escaped from the torn metal of the tail of the damaged jet, the engine choking like a thousand lawnmowers idling in a field.

Smoke billowed from the damaged tail and the plane began to spin out of control, tumbling to the neighborhood below.  In a flash, the cockpit exploded open and a parachute jutted out of the plane securing the pilot from a seemingly fiery demise.  The plane did not share the pilot’s luck as the tail ripped off cleanly from the rest of the plane, causing the body to nose dive to the house below.

The third house on the west end of the block had ferns on either side of a holly hedge that surrounded the exterior of the red brick house.  It had two stories and an attic with a singular, circular window peering out on to the street.  Two brick columns opened in to a brick entry and at the front was a red-brown mahogany door.  On each side of the door faced a glass window with a dark screen attached that prevented any onlookers from seeing inside the house.  The cement walkway led from the brick entry all the way down to the street and on either side of the walkway were patches of grass where the two giant oaks towered over the street.

The former owners of the house stopped making payments on the house years ago and the bank foreclosed on the property shortly thereafter.  The owners quickly disappeared after that and the bank sold the house to Genesis Property Co.  Genesis gutted the interior of the house and redesigned the entire layout.  The contractors just finished a few days before and the “for sale sign” jutted up out of the lawn alerting potential buyers to the house’s availability.   A Genesis Property truck parked in the driveway even though no one stayed at the house overnight, most likely to deter crime.

The tail segment hit first as it smashed in to the truck parked in the driveway.  Sparks and pieces of mangled metal sprayed the proximity like the mist from a high tide crashing in to the seawall in Galveston.  Before either Barry or Craig could brace themselves for the second impact, the nose of the plane seemed magnetized as it slammed straight through the front door ripping through the brick, glass, and wood that crumpled in its wake.  A fireball burst through the newly created hole in the front house and a fire began to spread and consume the remainder of the structure.  For a brief moment Barry swore he saw the figure of a person in the remnants of the explosion, but he blinked and the vision disappeared, probably just the combination of trauma and the still lingering effects of the marijuana in his system.

As Craig began to stand up after all the commotion he noticed the charred leaves of the bushes from which he emerged.  He felt a stinging pain in his back and patches of his skin felt like deep sunburns.  He looked over at Barry who appeared completely shocked and nearly delirious, but free from any major wounds or injuries.  He tried to say something to Barry, who remained there trying to process the events that just occurred, but his mouth felt like a desert and no words escaped his dry lips.  They remained in silence for a while longer, dazed as they tried to contemplate such an extraordinary experience.

Suddenly, only one thought absorbed Craig's mind and he sprinted off in the direction of his house.  His pulse raced as he flew through the front door, his father glancing at him, bewildered by his current state.  Much to his relief, his mother came out from the master bedroom and took a seat next to his father on the couch centered in the living room.

“What the hell is going on, I heard a huge boom outside?” his father inquired demandingly.  “Why do you look like you’ve been at war?”

Ignoring the question entirely Craig could only think of one thing…

“Have either of you seen the cat?” Craig desperately asked.

“The cat?” Craig's father responded, startled as he noticed blood dripping from a small cut above Craig's eye.  “Who cares about the cat right now?  I asked you a question and I would damn well like an answer!”

“Marc, that is no way to speak to our son,” interrupted his mother protectively. 

“I believe he is out back playing with the dog, Craig,” she continued as she turned to her son.

With his morale skyrocketing, Craig rushed to the backyard to see the dog and the cat wrestling playfully in the grass, completely unaware of the chaos that just ensued.  Finally, the adrenaline began to wear off and he released a sigh of relief.  Slowly, he turned back in to the house to confront his parents and provide them with some answers.

“Now what is going on, Craig?” his mother responded, using that comforting tone she always used to pry the truth from him.  “Your father and I are becoming worried.”

Craig apologized, closing his eyes as he began to detail the insanity he just experienced.  He started at “the spot,” omitting certain information like his inebriated state, and continued until he explained everything that occurred up to him frantically bursting in to the house.  When he finished telling the story he opened his eyes, and he heard sirens from emergency vehicles building louder and louder with each passing second.  He turned to the front of the house to see Barry making his way up the walkway still in an almost complete state of shock.  The scene began to seem silly to Craig and he finally cracked a smile.  It seemed like an eternity passed since he last smiled and he soaked in the sense of relief he felt.

“I survived!” he thought to himself as he beamed at his shell shocked best friend. 

In the background he overheard a conversation between his mother and father.

“I sure hope this whole fiasco doesn’t delay Michelle,” Kim heard his father exclaim.  “She should be home any time now.”

His sister, Michelle, lived on the beach, about an hour’s drive from where Craig and his family lived.  While they maintained a rocky relationship with each other, mostly because of their closeness of age and competitiveness, they managed to still love each other.  In fact, Craig really looked forward to seeing his sister, as it had been nearly a year since they talked last.  He remembered the last time they hung out together, coincidentally enough, in the third house on the west end of the block.  They snuck in right after Genesis installed the carpets and drank a six pack together, while they reminisced about their youth.  He thought back at that moment lovingly and then suddenly the panic began to creep up his spine again.

“When was Michelle supposed to be back?” Craig gasped, nearly losing his breath from the fear.

“An hour ago, but she probably ran into traffic,” his father casually replied.

Without hesitation Craig reached in to his pocket, procured his cell phone, and began to dial his sister’s number.  Tears began to well in his eyes as it rang and rang with no answer.  Finally, he heard his sister’s cheery voicemail, and weakly left a message.

“Um, hey sis, it’s Craig, just checking in,” he said, trailing off.  “Please… give… me a call when you get this message.”

Almost numb he turned to look outside at all the confusion.  Fire fighters had arrived on the scene and were spraying gallons of water at the growing fire, desperately trying to put it out.  An EMT examined Barry and treated a gash on his arm where a piece of metal lodged itself in his skin.  Almost all the neighbors were out in the street now; some helped the emergency crew, while others gossiped about what they just saw.  The panic became overwhelming for Craig and he stepped outside desperate for fresh air.  He decided to call his sister one more time in a frantic attempt to prove she was alright.

Suddenly he fell to his knees as he saw a blackened cell phone that a fire fighter removed from the wreckage light up, each ring corresponding with the ring he heard over his phone.  Pain pierced the pit of his stomach as he vomited on the grass below.  At that moment, Craig knew he would never see his sister again.

a journey of consciousness

A journey of consciousness  

The journey's beginning

Conscious to the beat that moves avec moi...

Traveling thru Space and Time

Slow moving a mile a min

Traveling thru Space and Time

Speeding down the paths of lifetimes

Traveling thru Space and Time

Suspending in zero gravity of maturity 

Traveling thru Space and Time

Fading into the blackness of peace of mind...

Traveling thru Space and Time...

The Rest Stop

A quick stop temporarily

While on the way to the destination

Where travelers pause wearily

And succumb to life’s imagination

A vice to end the endless drudge

And escape to a world of fantasy

Until it’s time to take the plunge

Back to the depths of life’s reality

An intimate, romantic fling

Satisfying your craving for passion

And then the pain begins to sting

When you must return to love’s true attraction

For all rest stops, they come and go

We can’t afford our leisure forever

The wind always makes the sand flow

Forward on to your life’s true endeavor.

Shadow of Slumber

I am alive, but I cannot wake from my sentence.

Trapped in a prison of consciousness

All sensations rush through my brain,

Yet I feel nothing, I hear nothing, and I see nothing.

I tell myself I must function as panic sets in.

I can feel my pulse elevate beneath my damp skin;

As I recollect the words, I recollect the actions.

I can feel everything, hear everything, see everything,

Yet everything does not exist, and the nothingness settles back in.

Lacking shape, there is only emptiness.

Lacking sound, there is only silence.

Lacking light, there is only darkness.

Personification begins in the form of a wandering mind.

Where has my consciousness gone today?

Somewhere that cannot possibly exist, yet it does.

I can feel the heat, hear the wind, and see the clouds,

But I am not in the storm.

I am lying comfortably, or rather uncomfortably,

As the day continues to exist without me.

I reach for a way out inside my mind.

The walls continue to grow higher and higher.

My sensation of being trapped is real, but I am actually free.

Free to break through the walls of the prison of consciousness,

But somehow the prison that does not exist holds me captive.

My desperation begins to boil and the fear takes over.

I reach for a way out but realize that I cannot grasp it.

I begin to accept this shadow as death.

When finally the hand comes to set me free.

A Ministration

She undressed me

as the dusk descended,

our foreheads touched,

My robe draped

around our feet,

the tiles cool and smooth beneath.

The bath was running

we stood, embraced

I kissed her long,

for a fatal moment

before I stepped into clear water,

the ripples dodged around my calves

and then my thighs, and then my chest.

The pressure pressed upon my heart.

I drank a final glass of wine,

prepared the final sacrament

as I watched her take her final glance,

“For us,” she said as the door was closed,

“For you,” I said, as she closed the door.

Conversation on Moral Code

Please,

Speak with me on morality

Without controlling callously

My feelings on reality.

For

Many appear as fallacy

Created by humanity

Often times maliciously

To perpetuate their vanity

As elitists feed deliciously

On dreams that earned indemnity.

But,

Compensation dubiously

Refused by law infinitely

blinds the right erroneously.

Full Volley Stuff

http://www.fullvolley.com/content.php?mode=show&id=10316

This is my article with Will Bruin and Giles Barnes of the Dynamo

http://www.fullvolley.com/content.php?mode=show&id=10315

John's article on his interview with Kofi Sarkodie

Rising Smoke

Smoke rises like the new day’s tide

Billowing up, uncontained, free

Flowing form taken by dazed guide

Deep exhalations maintained peace

Calm meditation with third eye

Merged by senses of untamed chi

Spirituality grazed my

Sense of direction, now I’m free 

God damn you, Brake Griffinsu

          Kia and the Los Angeles Clippers flopper forward Blake Griffinsu have been recklessly traveling back and forth through time, for the sole purpose of trying to push the Kia Optima to the kind of demographic that would watch the NBA on TNT and BONES. The premise of these commercials is that Blake travels into the past with his Kia Optima and seemingly guides his younger self on the path to being the prime time flopper and one trick pony that he is today. Kia and Blake do not care that their shenanigans are endangering our lives, as well as the space time continuum.

          Is it possible that Blake Griffinsu grew up to be who he is today because when he was a kid his future self came back to him and gave him advice on how to grow up to be just like himself? How is Blake still alive? How has he not endangered his own existence yet from knowing too much about his future? Is he some kind of paradox where the rules of space and time don't apply to him so that he can travel freely throughout time? And if so, why didn't he go back and kill Adolf Hitler? Is Blake Griffinsu anti semetic? So many questions, so much time.

Intro

I want all of us to start a blog where we can share ideas for writing about anything, from creative writing (short stories, poems, etc) to journalistic writing, musical commentary, your favorite tv show/ movie, or anything else you can think of.  Anyways let me know what you think...