ConcreteJungle

As I step from hardwood floors to concrete pavement, I enter a jungle that is just as wild as the Amazon and even more dangerous, if not for my body, then for my soul and my sanity. I’ve been captured and placed inside a vessel that keeps me chained to the physical. I keep trying to break free…
But I’m bound behind these bars…like cages. So I turn metal into words and turn these bars into bars to release me from this box I’m trapped in.

An endless cycle of consequences born of Pandora’s box when humanity becomes masochistic in it’s predictability. Because life is nothing but a box and I’m tired of being boxed in, trying to think outside the box but all that happens is I get put inside a box six feet under for trying to break the cycle. I’ve spent countless hours in front of a box…TV, watching shows that taught me life lessons so I wouldn’t be square connected, to my Xbox 360, which lies beside a shoebox filled with memories of past relationships I call my ex-box. And I’ve spent hours watching a box on Youtube inside of another box I see as my monitor inside of a box I recognize as my bedroom, but these boxes are almost never the same when it gets twisted around like Rubik’s cubes. I step outside the box I call my house and walk down the street on a sidewalk composed of boxes made of concrete watching metal boxes whiz past me. As soon as I get to school I’m stuck doing work and listening to lectures in a box…classroom, in hopes that I can graduate to an institution of higher learning to learn in a bigger box known as lectures halls. All with the goal of getting a diploma that I can frame inside a glass windowed box, so I can work behind a desk in a way smaller box…office. But in the end, we all end up in the same box to decompose.

My hope of changing the direction my life is headed, is just like a game of checkers, because as I stand inside this 4 sided square staring at the finish line, I can never head straight for it. Instead I must hop over obstacles to travel faster taking advantage of others, in constant fear of losing everything as I become a stepping stone for the opposition.
I’m being pressed in from six directions and my bones are beginning to become brittle from the pressure of the earth on my shoulders. I’ve gone through life hoping to become a predator in this concrete jungle, but in the end I’ve become the prey, praying for better days as I struggle to be more than just another link in the food chain.

Caged inside my own helplessness, I fight for survival, dreading the act of standing still, so my pen…never leaves these lined pages. The ink is the spring I run to for nourishment, the pure waterfall that refreshes it – my own awareness of reality. Using poetry, I free myself of invisible bonds as I step outside of the invisible metal box I have mimed around my consciousness. And with the wings I have grown from my temples, I head towards infinite skies of possibility in a future that is free of sides, and no intersections to be cornered into. So I managed to escape…

ASlightlyEloquentPlea

There’s this girl I know…
I think she likes me…or that’s what I’m being led to believe.

Like when she yells at me, it’s like she’s saying she loves me!
When she says I suck, it’s like she’s telling me how much I mean to her!
And when she makes fun of me, it’s like she means the opposite and she’s actually giving me a compliment!
And when she hits me, it’s like she’s saying that she doesn’t want anything hurting me!
But then when I think about it…it doesn’t make any sense. And at the same time it does because that’s exactly what I’ve learned every time I try to understand girls.

They say that words can deceive but the eyes don’t lie.
But so far…none of her words are even in English and I have less than a basic understanding of body language or of love…so I can’t even begin to believe I’ve been swindled. And there’s no fixing the misconceptions that are stuck in my head because I really think all of it means she likes me.
Or at least it did when we were in kindergarten.
Though for some reason, it’s like we haven’t matured in a decade with the way this girl keeps beating around the bush. I can’t stand all the thinking about what this or that means…because no matter how hard I try I don’t understand any of it. Like when she says yes, but in the end it’s actually a no, because for some stupid reason she can’t go.
And you might think I’m being paranoid, but when it happens more than once for the exact same thing then it’s about time lights went off.

The thing is...I'm a guy!
I don't do subtle and I can't decipher all the little things you want me to see!
I just want you to walk up to me with a:
"Hi. I like you. Not just like you, but like like you, like a simile but more like a metaphor, because it's kind of hard to understand, but I really think we could have something...and I don't think any of that made sense, but I just wanted to get it out there."
Or maybe even a little note that says Do You Like Me? please check yes or no.
Anything straightforward, I'm cool with - because my brain isn't equipped to deal with this.
Is that so hard?

I mean, yes…I know I write all this complicated stuff I call spoken word, but that’s just so I can relieve some of it off of myself. Because you have to admit, if I walked up to a girl and just started saying all 4 minutes worth of a piece I wrote for her, then it would be pretty awkward. But I digress.

My point is…I’m asking all of you…please.
Stop making everything so unnecessarily complicated!
Just pretend I’m a caveman or something…Maybe even draw it out for me if you insist on being all girly and complex with it. But as far as I’m concerned, blunt it best. A giant banner would be even better.
I mean, we might say no…but at least you’re helping every guy out there understand what the hell you’re really talking about and what you want. Because if I’m like most guys, then we’re easily confuzzled…
So just say it straight. Thank you.

IWasTryingToWriteAPoem

Now this poem ain’t complicated to any extent, because all I did was try to write a poem.
See, I was trying to write a poem that was better than anything I’ve ever written before…I tried to write something different. I wanted to give life to something more than just another love poem like every piece I’ve already performed.
I was trying to write a poem beyond all the lines you would probably expect from me by now like...
“Girl, you are so beautiful. You’re so attractive you make my jaw drop all the way to floor tiles and I end up mopping them with my drool…then my mouth snaps back shut just so I could bite my tongue, prolonging the feeling of my heart telling me I could never have you. At the same time my eyes pop out of eyelids and sockets reminiscent of Loony Toons while I’m singing the same loony tunes about the feeling of true love like it was the first time all over again.”
But then that’s just what I always do…so I decided to try something else.

Then, I was trying to write a poem about what I think about on a daily basis.
Until I realized how difficult that was because it would have been complete nonsense to all of you…and I mean all of you. Don’t believe me? Here’s what it might have been like…
“In a daydream of epic proportions, unconscious thoughts extend from hopes and dreams that I wish for while wishing for genies in lava lamps. It starts through slits in masks I sneak through hallways of intergalactic spaceships in search of polkadotted purple panda bears and little green men named Yoda. With the steady measured pace of awesome ninja skills and unnecessary uses of grappling hooks and shuriken, I run into Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles asking if they can chill, and I say ‘sure you can’.”
Like I said…it’s a random assortment of random thoughts, so I thought it wasn’t such a good idea.

Soon enough I was trying to write a poem using my iTunes as a guide. But then that ended up as just me trying to relate random titles together to make a love story out of band names and wordplay, like…
“It’s a known fact that most Boys Like Girls. You and I, were like The Cool Kidz In The Hall in Kooley High sharing affection like blunts in search of an Epik High while we watched Japanese Cartoons. But I’ve reached an All-Time Low, as A Fire Inside our Matchbook Romance starts to Wayne…Lil by little because clearly we were never ‘N Sync. All of a sudden, to you I’m an OutKast labeled Public Enemy number one and this Fiasco begins to Usher a Brand New circus of Factz as I realize we had nothing in Common. Taking a ride in a Death Cab just for a Cutie listening to Musiq has left me slightly Disturbed and Dumbfoundead, trying to understand why I participated in the Ludacris act in the first place. My Chemical Romance has left me wishing on Planes I’ve Mistaken For Stars hoping this Dashboard Confessional is carried to Angels by Airwaves. Trying to escape bad memories I hop on Jets to Brazil to meet with my Cobra Starship, with A New Found Glory In search of a Wonder Girl. And on my journey I learned that Pretty Girls Make Graves, so the next time I see her, I bid her a ‘Hellogoodbye’.”
But I doubt any of that made actual sense…

So in the end, here I am. With a poem about writing poems…but in the end I came up with this short haiku right here and it goes a little something like…

“No more love pieces.

Because I’ve written too much.

I like bananas.”

MyFirstLove

Looking out the window at rainbows and raindrops, I find myself reminiscing about my first love. See…

She came into my life like lightning, but stayed way longer than light flings. She’s left a lasting impression, working my way towards years of progression in several sessions consisting of nothing but simple conversation. The sight of her has my palms sweating…
I’m tongue tied…staring dumbstruck at curves like question marks, trying to think of something clever to say past a “Hi” and a wave. But the farther I reach in fathoms of her soul, the higher the waves. I’m a cast away, but I cast away fears of rejection and embrace her like my life depended on it. But without words my voice is left muted, attempting to remember my favourite lines hoping she would believe the depth of this fatal attraction through quotes of famous poets like Shihan and John Donne. In due time, she grows to accept the fact, I’m infatuated. And through the years I’ve known her, I’ve counted how many times she passes through my mind at any time of the day and the number is eight. Just turn it sideways.
Now she has me up in sleepless nights, fists clenched tight on ballpoint pens on the surface of paper. Writing love letters addressed to her in hopes that I get closer to undressing her…personality. Trying to understand every aspect of her to get into her good graces so she would allow me a means to find my way into her…mind so I can take away her various layers of…mystery to uncover the annals of her history.

You see, her words hit me similarly to punches from Pacquiao but the effect they have on me is beyond description. She makes me feel like…she makes me feel like...Okay, check this. She makes me feel like I can stand on top of Mount Everest and take one physical step towards enlightenment. She makes me feel like everything and every word in the world makes perfect sense when I am in contact with her, the clouds slow down; reaching towards us to envelop our souls in what I hope is marshmallowy flavoured goodness. She makes me feel like nothing can hurt me as I confide in her my deepest regrets and emotions regarding the life I live. She makes me feel like simple letters can’t combine into enough adjectives and superlative words in essays to describe how I actually feel about her.
But in the end she became my first love plus my closest friend. To you, this might seem like a fantasy, but I’m descriptive enough so that my make believe fans can see that she was there for me through everything. Through heartbreaks and pains, and she handed me the wisdom I’ve always wanted but never knew enough to find myself. She helped me find myself, to better comprehend why I do what I do, and after all that she and I have been through, I’m close enough to becoming bulletproof.

As a couple, she and I were like blue and sky, like green and grass, like tits and ass, like cookies and cream, like hide and seek as I began searching for the complicated facts that she hid from me. We were like Bonnie and Clyde, like Homer and Marge, like Batman and Robin, like Salt’nPepper but through the seasons, we both seasoned an adequate amount of words as they rolled off tongues to become melodies in the air. We were like Jack and Jill, like love and hate, like yes and no, like peace and quiet, like Bert and Ernie, like lock and key when she unlocked my heart as our deepest traits began fitting together like puzzle pieces, similar to chocolate and peanut butter in Reese’s Pieces now I hold part of her inside of me. We were like Adam and Eve and she was my Adam’s rib…God’s gift to me so I could refine my thoughts like fine wine in the hopes of standing before you and declaring myself poetically correct.

And if you don’t know, my first love is standing right next to me. And her name…is poetry.

70YearsOfAmnesia

WHY!?
I’m asking why. I’m asking who, what, where, when, why, how but…in the end, one word questions can’t begin to lead me along the path to the answers I need and questions that need to be asked like…

Why!?
Why would you have war? Why famine? Why terror? Why power?
When the good do bad to do good, and the bad do good in attempts at gaining power it’s a stupid cycle. I’m tired of self-indulgent rulers looking for opportunities to branch out and make paper, even if they need to sacrifice limbs to do it. The skin is torn apart and damaged and the bark becomes all bark, no bite as substance leaks like sap from wounds.

So I ask why!?
Why is World War II always accompanied by the Jewish holocaust and thoughts of Hitler when the Far East boasts its own version of genocidal history and no one is aware of it? So I’m wondering…
Why is there a reason for 300,000 civilians to die? Why is it necessary that 200,000 young girls from Korea, China, Japan and the Philippines become comfort women for Japanese soldiers? Why do 50,000 girls have to get raped in the streets of Nanking for a force of hundreds of thousands of armed soldiers to take control? Why did tens of thousands have to be tortured for the sake of weapons development in Unit 731?
Because it’s all in the plan. Kill all, loot all, burn all and leave no one behind. It’s a nightmare for the ages and the ages give testimony to blood, sweat and tears. All shed in gallons as POW’s, slaves and the dying all beg for an end to the suffering. Chinese and Korean civilians from babies to 70 year old seniors all subject to tests like inoculations of disease, flamethrower testing, limb amputation, chemical weapons tests, and being surgically opened up for study while they were still alive.

Why!?
Why would you have 8 year old girls on their knees begging their captors for sympathy for the freedom they had only seconds ago? Why would you have 13 year old girls praying to God, asking for a way out of the terror they are trapped in, but it didn’t do shit. Why would you give them reason to fear guns and bayonets, fearing forms of soldier silhouettes as shadows creep around the corner looking for victims and slaves? Why does a nation’s safety lie in the hands of foreigners and land known as the Nanking Safety Zone in their own country?

Why!?
Why would human beings lose compassion for different people just from being in a uniform? A uniform that is soon coated in the blood of innocent people slaughtered under the command of generals and politicians sitting on thrones built of greed. Why is compassion a commodity that is rarer than gold-coated diamonds on the battlefield…even when that battlefield is the capital of China with no enemy soldiers in sight?
Why is national duty enough to destroy a man’s soul!?
The victims are not my people, but it is not just THEM. It’s US. One nation is one country. One country is one race. And one race is all the same people. People like you, you and you no matter your cultural background…people that feel the same joys granted by carefree freedom…people that feel the same pain as we stare down into the depths of gun barrels and pricks at points of blades.
Because if you prick us we bleed. And at this moment…I’m bleeding words to describe the pain I feel in the eyes of speaking women. Eyes that are coated in a film of tears on the wrinkled faces of 80 year old women that survived thousands of cases of rape through 8 years of war and occupation because they were forced into the service of a country that wasn’t theirs…a country that was invading their homeland and killing hundreds by the hour.

And as I watched this former “comfort woman” give testimony, I begin to think. And out of these thoughts my own eyes begin to tear and I say FUCK THE EUPHEMISM! These military sexual slaves have to live with the pain of those years for the rest of eternity and we’re trying to make the offense sound less offensive and more acceptable so the people can swallow the blue pill. But why lie?
Why mislead people into thinking that nothing went wrong and that the only genocide that mattered in the Second World War happened to the Jews in Germany!? But that misconception is hurting me. So I have to ask why.

Why does this seem like ancient history? Why is it that they got away with all of it? Why is God standing idly by while millions suffer? God, why are you testing my faith in my own people? Why do you let us hurt each other over and over and over again? Why would you let something like this be hidden behind 70 years of amnesia?

And most importantly, why would you let us forget?
WHY?