The Life I Write May Be My Own

This poem was very much a long time coming, though I really didn't know it.  That is, until I started talking to a friend about my poetry.  The essential thoughts have always been a primary drive for why I write, but thanks to the conversations that friend and I had, I was finally able to put them to poetic use.  That said, I want to extend a very warm thank you to Bianka for sparking the inspiration behind this poem. Thank you Bianka!


The Life You Write May Be Your Own

A long time ago I realized that I should keep writing,
and I should write like my life depends on it.
For the life I write may be my own.
Every syllable, word, comma, period,
apostrophe, pulls it all together,
strings every heartbeat, breath, minute,
day, and beyond, into one continuous life.
A life that lives to learn.
A life that has only just begun to figure out how to just be.

I write like my life depends on it.
Like every word might be my last.
Like each word is more vital than the last.
This life I write just may be my own.
So I scrutinize every word to the letter,
every tense to make sure I live in the present,
a present to unwrap like every day is Christmas,
a gift like every day is my birthday.
I'm that kid wiping the sleep from my eyes. I'm awake.

To everyone I meet, write like your life depends on it.
Treat every word like they are the building blocks to your own Constitution.
Use every word like it's your personal Declaration of Independence,
all of it, because the life you write may be your own.
Know that what you say and how you say it can make you a force that has never before been seen.
Know that even the "unmovable" can be budged, and pushed,
that the word "unbreakable" is just a front. Discover that in your words.
Your words. Fight with them, write with them, write them down,
because the life that you write just may be your own.

For Bianka

(What Could Be) The Biggest Lies

This poem came to me by way of the last line first.  It was a little different than it is here, but the essence is intact.  The poem is inspired by a number of swirling and repeating themes and ideas that seem to work their ways into my conversations and choices.  Alright, no more of this nonsense...

(What Could Be) The Biggest Lies

So hard to try, so easy to say.
Thinking hurts a little.
Sometimes, all it does is hurt.
So I write this poem that borders on whiny,
Bumps that line of emo.

I hate that shit.

Truth of it is, these are the thoughts that I should think.
Thoughts that should see light
That should see action
That should be said
Thoughts that are faster than they ever look
Stronger than they appear
These thoughts look so daunting, so immense.

Here's another truth about these thoughts -
To keep them is wrong, damn near unlawful.
Never to try them is to never see them,
Creating more what ifs than bearable.

Keeping these thoughts becomes more than painful.
Honestly, sincerely, what it really does is this -
Keeping any of them becomes the biggest lies never told.


That's me, right now, in the middle of everything.

The Big Three

The poem in this post came to me in a blur. It started as a quick tweet before bedtime a few nights ago in a form very close to how it appears here. The thing is, I grew up Catholic, did the Communion thing, and for whatever reason I picked a Saint Christopher pendent all those years ago. A pendent I never go anywhere without actually. Fitting seeing that he is the Saint of Travelers. In the course of my life so far, Ive picked up a few ideas about how I see the world and as such, a pair of saints to accompany Christopher. I've discovered Anthony, the Saint of All Things Lost, and Isabelle, the Saint of Peace and Charity. Hence the title of this post and poem:


The Big Three

My own personal saints,
I've got three.
They say everything always comes in comes threes.
First is Saint Christopher,
For my soul's travels,
My "shotgun" saint on the peddle to the metal.
What do you say Chris? Want to see what she can do?
Saint number two: Anthony.
For those times I'm lost,
Without a map,
Up Shit's Creek without a paddle.
Last, but not least: Isabelle.
My model of peace and charity,
To remind me, that no matter what,
Even when life knocks my teeth out,
That the world is much bigger than me,
And that everyone is in the fight of their lives.


Thanks for reading. That's me, right now, in the middle of everything.

Three Poetic

I'm not sure what a proper introduction to this post is, so I'll just say that it's three more of my poems, each its own creature, with its own inspiration.

Poetic #1: This one is my attempt at a sonnet. Minus the iambic pentameter, I kept to the rules of rhyme scheme and number of lines. It should be said that I am NOT a good rhymer, that despite my love of hip hop, it's not my easiest path to a poem. It must also be said that this is a direct response to a challenge from one of my favorite students. I don't back down from a challenge. This poem is for all of my students, but especially Ashley Cate.

My Students

Every morning I come through the B hallway door.
Not sure what or who will challenge me.
Strolling along. saying, "hey." Hoping my belongings don't drop to the floor,
Seeing students seeing me fumbling for my keys.

First period is a trip, truly is.
I am far more awake than any of these kids.
Inevitably, one or two of them will jump head first into a dis,
But basically, it's up to me to help them avoid these kinds of skids.

The game I play is all about turning on the lights,
Turning on tunes, planning plus improv equals learning.
Showing them what they know, but think is beyond their sights,
I'm trying to turn trudges and tribulations into yearning.

I see it, tomorrow is not just a new day,
It is a view into doing this a brand new way.

**Special thanks to Freya for scribing the first draft of this, I originally had this written on the board.**

Poetic #2: This one is also a response to a challenge of a student, in this case, it was to shut a smartass up. In fact, this student didn't even complete his poem in the end. That irony didn't go without notice or comment from his classmates, so I guess he lost twice. This poem directly takes its form and inspiration from the hip hop duo Blackalicious and their song "Alphabet Aerobics." This one was very fun to write.


Alphabet Enlightenment

Activate my attention, my aural plane.
Be the beat in my brain, banging that bass drum.
Catch the cascade, cool my canopy.
Deal the downbeat on a dime, don't dare stop.
Everything is everything, everlasting when I emotionally connect. Electric.
Fantastical, further than free, footing not the final figure.
Greatness only given when the good gets going, going keeps growing.
Heavens, hells, heroes, heals. Hello to it all, hoping for a clear difference between halos and horns.
Intelligence for strength internal, independence, Iconic identification.
Jumping on the wings of joy. Joining the joy, jockeying for forever. Jubilation.
Kindness is my religion, killing that hate that Klans live in. Kinetic flow.
Letting loss live again as lessons for living, for loving.
Mountains can be moved, maneuvered, made massive, made miniature, my mood makes and breaks them.
Never give up; never give in, not for negative. No one. Never. Not once.
Operate on other planes, optimism can obliterate oppression.
Power is found in peace, punctuation, paragraphs, poems.
Quandaries, questions, quizzes, quests, never stop questioning.
Rest when revelry is reached. Rocky roads won't rope me down.
Still, never stop the surge that strikes, sustenance for my soul.
Timid, trepidation, torrential, traffic. Terms that tempt the topple of my temple.
Understanding, uncompromising, unwavering, unstoppable.
Vital signs vivaciously making new vectors. Venting vexations.
Wandering to start wondering, wondering to welcome words.
X-ray visions creating extraordinary spirit that can't be found at Xavier.
Yours is your world. You, for you. Yourself alone. You.
Zenith, one day, the zenith.

Poetic #3: This last one stemmed from a prompt for my classes as well. This time I wanted them to write about a favorite childhood toy. For the longest time, I've wanted to write about mine. Finally, the muse sang to me. Above my Star Wars toys, beyond my Transformers, my G.I. Joes, my you name it, the subject of this poem is what mattered most to me. This is what I came up with.

Easier To Be Green
As a kid, I had more ear infections than I could count.
To the point I drank more antibiotics than water.
At the least, I was at Boston Eye and Ear monthly.
New tubes, another earplug fitting, yet another procedure.
From the house, to the T, to the specialists.
Not how I wanted to miss school,
I never played sick, my ears made sure of that.
It was such a routine.
Until one day -

I lived with The Muppets, I lived on the street,
Sesame Street.
Do you know how to get there?
You should.

There was this one day,
Routine as all the other visits to eye and ear were,
I'm put under for new tubes, I still hate the smell and taste of that gas.
I awake and the first face I see is green.
Kermit is waiting for me.
Ping pong ball eyes and green felt body and all.
From that day on there would be no hurdle too tall,
Kermit was there.
All other ear procedures, right there with me.
Kermit lived for the road too.
He was my road trip buddy.
From Dorchester to the Green Mountains, and back to Dorchester,
Always right there, ready for the ride.

As a kid I faced more tests than I could count.
Kermit was my shield.
My partner in crime,
My space ship co-pilot.
The galaxies we'd reach so far, far away.
A long way from Samoset Street.
A long way from Sesame Street.
But, always a shortcut to the heart of my childhood,
To the heart of me.
Thank you Kermit, for making it easier to be green.


Thanks for reading, that's me, right now, in the middle of everything.

Work in Progress (A Poem by Me)

I love poetry. I love to read it, write it, hear it. I just love it! I wrote this poem about a year ago. For some reason the first two lines kept ringing in my ears. In large part autobiographic, in small part tongue in cheek sarcastic bastardry. Or is it the other way around? In truth, the poem is me at that moment it came together. And beyond. I hope you enjoy.


Work in Progress

He is a good guy,
Somewhere between Jesus Christ and John Lennon.
Living righteously, as much as he can anyway,
Though there is always Saturday night.
But it's Saturday that makes the work for Sunday.
A good guy, really, I mean, really he is.
A heart like the Grinch's,
After he heard the Who's singing without the presents and fixings,
After he carved the roast beast.
Reaching out to pull people closer,
To protect,
To share the sanctity of love.
Oh the backslide!
Backsliding is the fun of it!
Like I said, got to have something to do come Sunday.
In the end, He will judge him,
He will say, "Come on up, kick back,
Beer is in the fridge."
See, I'm telling you,
He's a good guy, really, somewhere between Jesus Christ and John Lennon.

Dreaming Out Loud

Here it is, my first post of 2009. Personally, I even surprised myself on this one, only 12 days in after all.

In all seriousness, I do have a point in posting, and it has a name: Wall-E. I had the chance to watch the movie this past weekend and completely fell in love with that little tin can. By all rights, Pixar is on a roll, they haven't put a dud out yet and Wall-E is no exception. In a recent e-mail "conversation" with a friend/colleague of mine, we discussed the layering Pixar is so apt at accomplishing and how this type of writing truly delivers a final product that just may have something for everyone. In my opinion, Wall-E is the epitome of this. To say this movie is just a cute story about an adorable little robot's adventures would dramatically sell this movie short. It is in its multiplicities that Wall-E really takes stride.

To me, the great story, the humor, and warnings of the trappings of consumerism combine to create a movie that should rightfully stand out above the crowd. In 96 minutes, Pixar has delivered what few movies have done so effectively, pure entertainment mixed with pure purpose. Like I said, Wall-E very blatantly cries foul on rampant consumerism; however, it never even begins to be too preachy. This is where the character of Wall-E himself comes into play. With such a childlike innocence, all he ever tries to do is help others. Through both his programming (he's a trash removal robot) and his giving and selfless personality, Wall-E is more of a celebration of the human spirit than any of the movie's human characters.

In my mind, this is the true triumph of both the movie and the title character. Wall-E serves as an extremely profound, though deceptively (and cutely) simple, example of what will and determination can bring. He never gives up, period. In that he teaches his lesson. For a little robot, his humanity is gigantic. So gigantic that I can't figure out how to stop gushing about this movie. I've said it before and I'll say it again: Very few movies offer such a total package of genuine story, humor, and message. Wall-E never steers off-course or misses a beat for even a second, this movie is an honest celebration of all that is good in life and the world.

At risk of getting on a soapbox myself, we can all stand to learn more about ourselves and our capabilities. We can all find that will and determination to make ourselves, others, and the world what we want it all to be. It's time to celebrate the best things in life and realize that they are not things at all. To quote Bono, it's time to "dream of the world we want to live in and dream out loud." All of this from a binocular-eyed tin can with tank-tread feet named Wall-E.

That's me, right now, in the middle of everything.

Another Reason I Haven't Been to Church in Some Time

I have just recently read an article on Yahoo News about a priest in Columbia, South Carolina( Rev. Jay Scott Newman ) that has refused Holy Communion to anyone that voted for Barak Obama. Citing President-Elect Obama's views on a woman's right to choose as "constituting material cooperation with intrinsic evil" he withholds the body of Christ from many of his congregation. He also went on to say, "Voting for a pro-abortion politician when a plausible pro-life alternative exists constitutes material cooperation with intrinsic evil, and those Catholics who do so place themselves outside of the full communion of Christ's Church and under the judgment of divine law. Persons in this condition should not receive Holy Communion until and unless they are reconciled to God in the Sacrament of Penance, lest they eat and drink their own condemnation."

Damn! Whatever happened to that Christian saying "judge not lest ye be Judged?" It has been said that there is a world of difference between being a Christian and being Christ-like, seems to me that this Padre has lost his way to Christ-like living. I thought God was supposed to be talking to people in his position directly. If this is the case, God's sending a fair share of mixed messages on what it is he wants exactly.

The problem as I see it is that, intrinsically, Rev. Newman is dealing too deeply in absolutes here. Any time someone says that there is only one way to interpret something I shudder, especially when it comes to God's Word. To re-state what I said earlier, God is talking to many people. Be it through The Bible, messages to "men of the cloth," or prophets, one thing is clear...the message is not always the same song and dance. There has been too much left to interpretation to have any one true, clear, or decisive avenue to travel.

When Rev. Newman says, "Voting for a pro-abortion politician when a plausible pro-life alternative exists constitutes material cooperation with intrinsic evil," he is missing a very serious mark. The pro-life candidate he speaks of is most obviously John McCain and though it is true that he takes a pro-life stance on the issue of abortion, his miss comes in the form of McCain's support of the Bush administration's push to go to war with Iraq (on the premise of the WMD lie), as well as his own wishes to enter into war with Iran. For some reason, war does not seem very pro-life to me. Nor does it seem very Christ-like to enter a war on reasons proven to be built on lies and deceptions. Isn't there a Commandment about lying? Says something about not doing it if I remember right.

Does that mean that you are pro-lying Rev. Newman? I hope not. Here's the thing though, I'm not going to let some religious hypocrite ruin my hopes for the future and my happiness in electing a candidate that deserves the presidency on many levels. Barak Obama is an intelligent, well-spoken, and able-minded successor to our present presidential predicament. The icing on the cake here is that we made history this election year and no Catholic priest is going put a damper on that.

That's me, right now, in the middle of everything.