An English Writer's Mind

There's no sign of sleet Oh how a wonderful feat That I take a seat On the beach where I will meet The waves crashing at my feet.

Have you ever wondered what hell was like? No. You’ve only experienced paradise. Fuck the thought that brought the ideology Of an afterlife. What about the man that lost his wife Due to some genetic creature of life. Evolutionary biology, one hell of a strife. Continue spreading lies until all lives will dive. Protect the rights of the unborn; your alibi?  Oh, are you too worried that a fetus is alive? Then why do you dismiss the ones that cry? Wanting only help so they can get by? Hopeless in life; do you wish them to die? Humanity is null, your god is only paper. All that matters, is if you are made safer. You care only for your own profit, So create your own prophet. Not a messiah that states, “Treat all like yourselves,” You wouldn’t wish you dead, Yet your lies pour like a faucet, Still you deem that others have lost it. Life must be nice that you to get to savor The privileges of white dominated behavior.

The life of a fart One begs to wonder, Whether we seek art, Or loot to plunder. Must we pass like air, Only forgotten? Or like a corsair, To the core, rotten. Our life is not gas, For we are carbon. This as well shall pass, Pour me a bourbon.

Rohnert Park, what a town. No enjoyment in LA, That is all I have to say. Oh, how blissful the sound. A fragrance so near heaven; If you adore the smell of ass, Then this town is filled with high class, So good, you'll be left beggin'. A Californian's dream come true To live near a farm than big cities I haven't even found cute kitties Surrounded by the stench of poo. What's a city boy to lose? Come experience the beauty Luscious green filled with cow duty So wondrous one needs to roose. Yes, one hell of a place. Unrivaled Mexican food LA is just too damn rude. No better place to grace.

You took all you needed from me, Then left me to the wolves. But never did you expect that I would be, Emerging from the woods,  An alpha to the hounds, Bitch.

The United States needs liberation from itself This government has raped, pillaged, and deceived All that are not white or male. Those that lack any wealth That do not align with what the Christians believed Are assigned a new hell. Denied from central health And education will not be received Tragic is all we can tell.

            Life does not end when Death cradles a soul like a newborn shortly after their departure from their Earthly life. No, far different. And religion had it wrong from their inception; all religion, and all beliefs had it wrong. There is no paradise, there is no joy for those that lived a fruitful and gracious life. Unity, bliss, pain, and comfort are all just cycled emotions that are cast upon from the Wardens that control the afterdeath, as it is difficult to consider it life. People wander the land of Alyselden as broken spirits, only to be fodder to the Wardens of the world: The Warden of Justice, The Warden of Wickedness, The Warden of Solitude, and The Warden of Harmony.             The Warden of Harmony is almost laughable as its goal is to harmonize all spirits that walk this realm. The reason for its position to be in such a mockery of state is that all spirits derive from the human realm, and humanity is not known for its harmony. The few that cared to live peacefu

Never look to the ground As you plummet Let your eyes Enjoy the descending flight Death appears for all that live So live while you fall.

This sounds absurd Officer Unlike what you may have heard. Giving that my vision is blurred Hell, even my speech is slurred, Seriously, I'm not under the influence, sir. Happens that some bird Instantly dropped a turd That's what caused this to occur.

May I be honest with you? What I'm about to tell you is rather true, That I do struggle with a drug or two So I can sleep and not wake up past noon. While it'd be nice to call me lazy For my time spent in bed. I'm actually hazy, Lost in an ecliptic struggle that's known as my mind, Every time I wake I'm feeling mentally blind And I just can't unwind. I feel like I'm in this never ending bind, Making my nights combined With liquor and pills That'll calm the chills I know I'll wake every morning There's no need for mourning. These aren't the drugs that'll fuck me up. They're just making me sane, Making it possible to explain That this worldly domain Isn't lived in vain. It's just a shame That this is what I have to do to not be insane.

Have you ever stared into the eyes of the dead when your thoughts have said that you were bred to be haunted by these thoughts of suicide? When you feel that those thoughts define how you should be defied, feeling like you've been crucified or brutalized by your inner conscience, telling you that you're worthless, that there's no point in workin' or breathin', that all are just deceivin' you. And how you would much rather eat a bullet to neutralize those thoughts that paralyze you from succeedin'. That you're no better than a heathen in the eyes of a Christian. Just some parasite, feedin' on the food that others need to be alive. You feel that you have no right to thrive, that you'd be better off if you took a dive, but then feel ashamed so you have to disguise the mental struggle and it's just so fucking hard to survive, because all you want to do is apologize for taking up space that some other life that should have replac

This is hard. I'm trying to write a poem of the pain of the past, but alas, I strain my brain trying to explain, the pain, like a broken glass window pane. But the truth is, that time has passed and this poem makes it sound like I owe them the right to a voice. So I pretend on my end that I'm angry and try to force some thoughts of what happened to me like it's some astronomical catastrophe, but really its those events and pain that gave me the Self gain and respect that's made me this crazy And I wouldn't trade it. You see, I can go on a tangent where I say "just let me Vent," That these words were sent with the mission To represent all those that suffered like in some Convent, but my suffering is mine alone so I Don't need a clone speaking with the same tone like some recording on the phone. My past is Unique, just like yours, so there's no need to seek someone to speak what you think, for your Voice is louder and prouder th

I've spoken with many people about the great opportunity that came from this. I never anticipated to ever have a college life. My family always told me to just start working to sustain myself, but when you are someone that lives for the arts, you don't care to sustain life, you want to create a purpose beyond a family. Here's to my BA that I hope to achieve before summer of 2017.

You said we would be friends for eternity, But here I lay, wallowing in misery. Like a clepto, the world steals lives from me You were no exception. Another casualty. My thoughts trail back into our inception; What created this bond? A competition. Skill arcades, that bore no repetition. T’was when we met, after cashed tuition. Years since you left, still I think all the same; That I was blessed, with a friend in your name. Your loss was enough to drive me insane, Left me hopeless and wished for one final game. Your memories still linger, and your joy was well wanted, So do me one last favor, friend, and please keep me haunted.

Don't blame me For your insecurity With your inability To ease your mind Of where about I'll be. It's a demand not a plea With anger behind that decree That I must tell thee But I'm not inclined To tell anything I see. I am free Like a fish at sea Or like a wild flea For my life is defined By none other than me. No longer in infancy I found stability The inevitability That I must remind I have my own responsibility.

In here I wanted to share an essay I wrote about Thomas Hobbes and how if he would have lived in a period where England wasn't in a civil war, he would have viewed the same results. Social Fragmentation     Many would state that war reveals just how primitive humanity really is. When an individual has views different than those of one's own, conflict often arises. Thomas Hobbes argued that humanity is savage by nature, thus in the need of governing as the only other alternative is chaos. Within this governing state it is in the best interest of all people to follow the rule of the head that controls, unless it is at the cost of lives. Only then should the people rise to reestablish order and end tyranny. There is reason to believe that Thomas Hobbes' views were influenced by the English Civil War and the rift in religious beliefs. Still, even if Thomas Hobbes had lived in a time of peace, there is reason to believe that the concept of Leviathan would have still existed

Wow! I just got accepted to Sonoma State. I'm both excited and conflicted.

I received some really great news I received from my campus. I was asked and offered a position on being a judge for a poetry and short story competition held by the campus community. It's a great add-on to my resume, and I'm looking forward to seeing many people's work.

St. Patrick's Day A holiday Where all are content and merry. From coastal bay To inland way All faces are flushed to cherry. So give away Your joyful ray To all this anniversary. From Bombay To an Irish alley Let make it extraordinary.

Puffins, Puffins,             Where do you go? Puffins, Puffins,             So foul to swallow. With your beak, I was sparked with curiosity;            I followed with delight, With words not meek, you are an atrocity,           You left me to gripe. Puffins, Puffins,             Why did you come? Puffins, Puffins,             Truth is, we are done. You cannot swim, you shrivel and prune,           The taste I cannot bare, Like a trash bin, rotting food in June;           Never again, this I swear.

It was the time in September's date, That I decided to go upstate.                                   It wasn't fate That I visited the golden gate; But twas a result from a frozen wake. How ruthless the darkness set That it would not let me forget Reasons for my waking sweat. Broken apart, the ties were severed, It was the end of this endeavor.                     Left weak as a feather Bound and feeling under the weather; Intruding past, with nothing to tether. Hope did come to make its way In showing forth a better day Halting thoughts from going stray. Death's bony fingers pulled me to hell, But friends helped me get well,                    No longer will I dwell And what caused it all to fail; I escaped my mind. My prison. My jail.

The Darkest Hour The darkest hour doesn't come in the dead of night, But the moment we lose the will to fight Where we forget what is right And lose sight Which then brings a blight That takes away the light that shines bright Causing fright that leads to hate and eventually spite. Our darkest hour comes when we lose hope. When we can no longer cope Like a tightrope Afraid to fall down the slope So we sit in darkness, in agony, and mope.

The trickles of rain cast upon my body, That feeling of cleanliness and refreshing zest; I scrub gently, with soap upon my breast. When the droplets stop, I feel an oddity. Why now must the sharks of brown cry? The moment that I far from dry, A true inconvenience To allow this deliverance.