What I Learned the Autumn of 2011

Picture from

          Life is a giant chunk of clay. It starts off clean, unblemished by the hardships of this world. But slowly you get your hands dirty and the chunk becomes a creation. It will only be what you make it. No one will ever destroy or take over your creation, they will just aid you in sculpting it a different way. And the colorless ball is painted with beautiful colors from the people walking in and out of your life.

From the moment you first open your eyes in the world you are the finest artist ever to exist. You’re no longer a chunk of clay in someone else’s sculpture, you are starting to mold your own life. Your story, your parents, your siblings or lack of, the place you were born are already formed into your sculpture of life. I wouldn’t be able to put a shape to my sculpture, but this short quarter has helped me realize how fragile life really is. I’ve had moments of pure happiness, where the smile on my lips wont fade. I’ve also had longer moments. That lump in the back of your throat you get from holding back tears has lingered in my trachea for days.
            I’ve learned that we need to hold onto the little things that are often taken for granted because one day we wont have them. It makes me realize that I need to cherish every moment, good and bad. Every moment is another pinch, another poke, another figure added to the sculpture of life.

Sweet

By Martin Williams


The steel has not made me cold
Nor the stone made me hard
Not the gray made me colorless.


The dopefiends have not made me scandalous
Not the cops made me hateful
Nor the hateful made me heartless.


The food has not killed my appetite

Picture from

Nor the sexlessness killed my desire
Nor the lifelessness killed my thirst.


They gave me no water for my garden,
Gave me sand for seeds,
And I grew flowers
And low fruit,
Enough to color the walls
And make stale rice
Taste Sweet.

In The End

Photo taken by myself

She stands in the corner of the room and watches
Her eyes on the ground, her hands lighting matches
staring at the heart, oozing onto the floor
She gave him her all and he gave it up
He left her behind for one night stands and liquor,
A girl with more knowledge, more trips to the bed
A girl with simply no brains in her head
But she waits and refuses
She knows he’ll come back
Crawling along the floor
with empty promises and more.
She’s done crazy things for “man that she loves”
From painting her face
To hiding slices with long gloves
From skipping meals
To to wearing tight dresses and heels
She’s kissed his mouth and tasted lipgloss
Thought about speaking up
But he’s not the kind of guy she’d ever want to cross
She’s breathed into pillows to muffle her cries
So that no one could see the tears streaming from her eyes
And one day it will all change
She’ll wake up in his house bearing a ring on her finger
Remembering the tough times that they endured
But looking foreward to a wedding in a chapel theyve procured
and maybe she’ll laugh
just maybe she will
but for now her eyes are on the ground, her hands lighting matches
Because she stands in the corner of the room and watches

My Riff

Picture from

I chose this fast write because I thought it was fun and childlike.  I had a lot of trouble writing it because I was very tired that day.  But it ended up being cute and I like it.






Writing A Poem
Just a blank page
and a ready pen.
Tap, tap, tap your fingers until then.
Pop! An idea that flows like rain,
making people feel love, despair, joy or pain.

Picture from

Your pen starts dancing
as your mind keeps asking.
Spring open your chest, heart knowing where to go,
down to the next blank line 'till you're getting very low.
Creative, at ease, relaxed, happy.
Would it be glad, angry, anxious or sappy?
But a powerful ending is what it's about.
Go out with a bang like a water spout.
But this is one thing I can never seem to do.
I wont stand for random words I pulled out of the blue.
But for now all I can do is think hard and sigh.
How lame am I to cut off with just a simple good bye?