Tuesday, February 10, 2009


So, today as I was coming home (to my dorm, which I do not really count as a home, more of a prison of Academia) I was stuck in traffic for 25 minutes. Why? Because there were three accidents at the largest most congested roads. And I thought to myself, "Are there more accidents because the weather is better". And as I thought this, with my window down, the cool spring like breeze blowing through my hair, and my music turned up (because the windows were down, and for some reason traffic has an annoying habit of being loud), I realised that I was no longer paying attention to traffic. I whipped my head up (this is for you mom) and saw the tail lights of the motorist in front of me, just in time. In a feat of near epic motor skill proportions, I deftly braked, cut in front of a car in the right lane, sped up a little, gave my dad's patented "are you an idiot, because that was obviously your fault" stare to the driver of the other car, even though it wasn't entirely their fault that they had to brake for a red light, and proceeded to pull in front of them the moment the light turned green. That finished, I decided that yes, most certainly, good weather causes more accidents than bad weather. Bad weather just causes worse accidents, which is why we think we are safe in good weather. But do not be deceived! And because of my thinking, and subsequent near accident, it is no longer necessary for anyone who reads this blog to think about that question while driving. There is my good for the day. Perhaps I saved a life, a car, or a city a few hours of traffic. All... free of charge.

Thursday, February 5, 2009


Shoulders bent,
Back aching,
Strained by labor for
Beard long,
Grisly grey,
Untrimmed, unwashed, but sincere.
Sincerely destitute.
Mouth with thin lips,
Missing teeth, others browned and old.
But muttering words,
Sad silent soliloquies to
Ears that haven't heard
A friendly word
In so many years.
Eyes cloudy, they stare
At the ground,
Not seeing the crumbling shoes,
But the past,
When there was love and
Laughter, and family and friends.
His family now are his thoughts.
And he passes the bridge
Like so many other times,
Looks over the rail
And passes by.
So much lost, but if
He dies, so will the memories.
He sits at the steps
Of the Capitol building,
The most help its given
Him is these few minutes of rest.
He closes his eyes
To see more clearly His long lost happy times.
And from beneath the lids
Soft tears well out,
And run through the
Dry creek beds of His old and wrinkled
And he falls to his
Side, and into her
And away from this
Anguishing life.
And all that is left
Is the visage with the
Long beard, the bent shoulders,
The silent mouth.
The crumbling shoes.
He is forgotten,
But he is found.


Sitting at a Desk.
Time dripping from a
Crack in an hour glass
Slower and slower, so
Mind aching, back aching, eyes
Like the chances left to
Live dreams.
This is Life.
This is the acceted
Of living,
A half-crazed gift
Passed to us from our
Dying grand-parents, and propogated
In trust by our parents,
For us to keep protected
When we are
One day, with a knowing grin
An eager wink we
Will pass it
On to our
Stop working, only to

Absence of Seasons

Time as a master is hard to appease,
He moves on quick cadence,
Pulling us along,
We're bound to him by chains
Made of heart beats,
No time for rest,
No time for a breath in the absence of seasons,
Toiling hard, we each reap more years
For Mater Time's great store,
We keep tally for him,
We celebrate each new year we add,
As though it may be the last
Troubled by the continual push
Of past or present,
Free of worry,
Free of care,
Where time doesn't matter,
Because life moves more nicely,
On the path to the end.
We do this each year,
Never realizing our hope,
Until the last breath is spent,
The last heart beat in the chain finally breaks,
And we pass Time on the road,
He stops,
He stares,
He forgets us,
And moves on.

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

In short

In a moment of sublime disenchantment,
The actuallity of life becomes
Less meaningful.
There is more emphises on the
Of living.

Striking the chords of the
With the colors of
A sunset,Open eyes, not temporal,
But more perceptive.

Seconds dash into minutes
Minutes dive into
Hours fade into short
The body moves through
Time, not accepting
That it is running

Life, like a tree,
Blooms only once a
This tree gets
After only One.

Sunday, February 1, 2009


I hate Traffic,
The stopping of Life,
Two much time for reflection
In anger.
I hate Traffic.
Stopped, people
Screaming, people charging
Their way ahead.
Too much humanity
For the moment.
I hate Traffic.
Traffic is the pause we dread,
The pause that causes
Us to see us.
I hate

Lasting Legacy?

The towers of Giants crumble to Mountains
The foot prints of gods become Seas
Mighty stars die, but their light shines on
- So what becomes of me?

The author writes the famous Novel
The playwright his glorious Play
Legends are born from the Earth itself
- But who will remember me?

The painter paints a lasting Portrait
The sculptor sculpts a timeless Statue
The carpenter likens the mighty King
- Will my face last in memory?

The mountains will Crumble to a tiny hill
The novel in time will be Burned
The portrait's face shall Fade to obscurity
- Then they shall be like me.