My New Year's Poem

1- 1-12 - 2013

"To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment." ~ Emerson

I’d like to think I’m getting better at living through the years.
As each one passes, I’ve surmounted a few more fears
and left behind some tendencies to get tangled up in gears
that slow down my clock and bring little more than tears.

By focusing on my goals and their respective causes,
I’ve found a source of stability between the loves and losses.
It’s offered me a strength that I use to my advantage,
as I try to live with grace, while incurring minimal more damage.

This isn’t about perfection or even being better than others,
but a belief that you and I are only as good as our gutters,
as our weaknesses and flaws constantly stabbing us in the back
like a city that's being flooded by its very own crap.

It’s a tricky thing we’re given when we’re handed the controls,
of a life others half built and may have blindly filled with holes.
Like landmines in our foundation, or a blueprint full of errors,
and we pick up where they left off amongst the comedy of terrors.

Yet we’re expected to make it work like we all know what we’re doing,
like the world has a use for us that we are knowledgeably pursuing.
But for most it would seem we’re all searching for a light
to illuminate the room with the best parts of life.

It’s safe to say where that room is, we’ve heard it all our lives
as we busy our dizzy selves like desperate houseflies,
from the mouths of our greatest minds and the stories they have told,
to the remarkably simple truths spoken by our young and old.

“You have to look within,” they say, “til you’re not afraid of what you see,
because every time you look away…you lose sight of the enemy.
The only one who can hold you down and keep you from becoming
everything you’ve ever dreamed, without the slightest bit of cunning,

just the goodness of love, along with a beautiful faith
that you weren’t put here to be a victim on behalf of the human race.
That there is more to you than this, whatever this is,
just as there is more to love than a lust for hugs and kisses.

To never stop digging deeper like you’re searching for a bullet
that could be infecting parts of your life with x amounts of bullshit.”
This is what they say to the rest of us, who are as clever as cartoons,
always expecting to get better, without putting pressure on the wounds.

~

This is what I saw growing up, and I’d be damned if I followed suit,
so I broke my pact with the devil, and threw the bible down the chute.
I accepted no one’s answers but the ones I found myself,
and began to pay attention to the thoughts that filled my shelf.

I found that many were not my own, and few were even true,
like my perceptions had been catered by a society with the flu
and a sickness had been spreading that was simply called ‘The Norm’:
once it got its pound of flesh, you were bound to be deformed.

So I resolved to make a change, protect whatever I was
from a world that sought to make me accept whatever it does
as gospels and love and the way things ought to be,
like I can’t tell the difference between truth and falsity.

This was all disturbing, but I found a place inside
where I could be myself and I didn’t have to hide
how much I really loved to live or what made me feel alive,
and in this place I found my art…and that’s when I began to thrive.


 I didn’t think I was good at anything for the better part of my life,
but my writing made that line of thinking slow and then it jackknifed.
I felt like I really had something, and it was incredibly fun,
but I also incessantly doubted myself and was incredibly dumb.

I didn’t have the confidence to do what I needed to do,
and never felt the freedom to follow my dreams through.
Eventually I let it all go, because I didn’t believe in myself.
How often do we squander our unvalued wealth?

However, as you see, that’s not the end of this story,
and I have managed to reclaim a bit of my former glory,
and have put it to good use in some interesting ways
that make my life feel like a ship aptly called, “To Better Days.”

There’s a place for my art in the world that I didn’t see before.
It was there all along, but I was blind to the door
and no one seemed to notice my stumbling potential,
so I figured I was kidding myself thinking this was special.

It was my favorite thing in the world and I treated it like a hobby,
told myself to forget my dreams, and that betrayal was ungodly.
It broke my spirit and made me hate all that I was.
My art atrophied in self-loathing.  My big bang became a blasé buzz.

But it never went away, it just got very very quiet,
like I went from flyin planes, to a desk job at the Hyatt.
The itch was always there to get back into the air
but I had to spend my days acting like I didn’t care.

I was a fool to stop it and to think it could be stopped.
All I did was hang an anvil that would naturally be dropped
on my dumbfounded head almost ten years later,
and the force knocked so much sense, it turned my skull into a crater.

Now I write every day, I am happy to report!
Whether poems thoughts or songs, even essays and letters
the words won’t stop coming out! But…long story short,
as time passed and brought experience, I broke free from my fears,
and slowly found my way back into the stratosphere.

It may not always be great and I’m rarely very technical,
but I enjoy what I make and performing is a spectacle
that I can’t believe I’m a part of, it was once a “wildest dream.”
And now every chance I get makes my inner child scream

with the joy of Christmas presents or a great birthday surprise.
I’ve reached a place in life where all the blessings are undisguised.
And I can’t believe the fortune I had in my hands all this time!
Who knew you could make life better…just by making rhymes?

The power of a purpose is that of a resounding call,
calling everyone who heard it to take that leap despite the fall.
I’ve heard mine loud and clear now, but it was there all along,
and I do not think I’m alone in that. I think we all have a song

that we are meant to sing, that would tell you where you belong,
so you can live without the constant, crippling fear of being wrong.
Because none of that matters, not one judgment is eternal.
The system is designed so you can escape any inferno,

from the one in your head, to the violence you feel and see,
but whether you go up or down is up to you entirely.
You sow the seeds of your future, or you let them be sown,
but whatever you end up with is only yours to own. 

The world is a crazy place, no doubt. Of this, we’re well aware.
Some are born in opportunity, while others in despair.
And while that might make some dreams far-fetched, greatness is always possible.
The abominable only exist as long as allowed by the indomitable.

~

  At this point, all I hope for is to become more of what I am,
to better my self, and if I can, to help my fellow man.
Because I know something of his struggle, I’ve been on both sides,
but you’ll find me smilin in the middle now, cuz I know it’s just a ride.

I cannot ask for much more from life (if you could only see what I’ve been given),
but I see how much more can be done with the storyline I’m livin,
so I try to bend it in more alignment with the universe’s laws,
so I may do that work much longer. God willing, Insh’Allah. 

_

Bed of Nails

3-10-00

The expectations of a parent

                 are like nails

   held to their children's back

Held just close enough to make it

                    apparent

      what will happen if they

                        slack

Because of this

                        the kids walk fine lines

                              like tight ropes

        while bearing unnecessary pressure

        and they do this all in hopes

                                  living up to their parents'

                                       measure

They're forced into invisible molds

    (an act the parent will never admit)

       and every time the children

             do exactly what they're told

       the molds become

                           a better fit

Permanently filling shoes

                 they should only

    be trying on

  As they are served

a full plate of values

  and they don't get to leave the table 

 'til every last pea is gone

Parents allow fear

   to become the source of their love

 Never meaning it to do any harm

But there's a line between guidance

      and a helpful shove

  and when it's crossed

     there is cause for alarm

But as children are

   tucked in for the night

 their parent's

       smiles hang high overhead

  Though the kids are told

      everything will be all right

    they still feel the prick of

                nails in their bed     

Home is What We Make of It

It's good to finally post this poem. It's been a soldier, and it's that much closer to a well deserved retirement. This has been my Go-To poem for years whenever I need to introduce somebody to "Performance Poetry." It WORKS! It has all the ingredients of a good performance poem. Not large portions of those ingredients, mind you, but enough dashes to give people a taste of what this art is and can be.

It's got a simple rhyme scheme which helps keep the listener's attention. It's got a character, since I perform it as a gay flight attendant. Gay in the old sense of the word, of course ;). It's got a nice variety of images. It's simple but complex since it is satirical. And that satire paves the way to humor, which is one of the most important ingredients for a "Well-Rounded" performance piece. Because of the humor, this piece is guaranteed to elicit an audible response from the crowd in the MIDDLE of the poem. THAT'S important. If you can't make a crowd laugh, gasp, moan or cry, then you're not doin it right. This poem does that almost every time. It's short, pointed, and to the point. Just like Jon Stewart. :D

I guess what is most notable about this poem is its age. It's old! I wrote March 2nd of 2000, which puts me just shy of 19, my first year of college. 12 years old and it STILL works. That's awesome. I haven't changed a thing, and when people find out how old it is, they're like, "Hmph, you coulda wrote it yesterday, still true." And I'm like, "I know, right!" Nothin's changed folks, just more people are aware of it.
It's also worth noting that that means I didn't write it as a performance poem. I didn't know what performance poetry/slam poetry was at that point in time. But once I did learn about it a couple years later, I went back and a few pieces, like this one, just seemed to lend themselves to it naturally. And the true potential of the poem was born. Pretty cool. And now look at it, it's been with me a long time. And I even started using it in class to teach what satire is as part of my introduction to Animal Farm. Which coincidentally is right now! The only time I do anything with my poetry in class is performing THIS poem, as I just did twice last week and once more tomorrow. But that's not why I'm posting it now. I'm postin it now cuz I also performed it at a gig last week, as part of the Dine in the Dark WORLD ENVIRONMENT DAY on June 5th. Which is really awesome.


I got the call to serve up some poetry and I knew just the piece. This piece. I love it, it's so useful. I'm glad my teenage self was cool enough to write it. I never ever would've imagined the life this poem has lived.

Anyway, I just thought it was high time I put it on the internet. I'm sure I probably put it up on my old blog back in the myspace days, but that was many years ago. And I haven't wanted to ruin it for any of you by letting you read it first, but now I've about performed it as much as I can. It's a got a couple more public events left in it's Bangkok life, but eventually I'll just save it for private events or friendly demonstrations. I hate making people hear my poems more than once or twice. Really. It's probably a stupid hate to have for this line of art, but...I know they're never gonna have the same punch after that. And if they don't make you feel anything thennnnnn what's the point?

At some point I should do a video for this and get it up on youtube too. I'm gettin a little bored of the one take videos in my room but...maybe one more for old times' sake. ;)

Enjoy the poem. Remember to imagine me reading it like a VERY gay flight attendant. But in the old sense of the word.

Cheers!

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Home is What We Make of It

3-2-00

ATTENTION ALL PASSENGERS...

Welcome to the world Where We Don't Care
If you're just passing through, then please don't stare
You might provoke the natives and make them self-conscious
and they really don't like that, so please, be cautious

If you're planning to visit, then we welcome your presence
Understand that the pollution and violence is all part of the essence
We do everything we can to make it completely carefree
And making sure you never have to think is part of that guarantee

If you're planning to stay, well then you came to the right place
The more the merrier as we all say, and don't you worry about space
If push comes to shove we'll just knock down some more trees
then you can jump on the freeways and go anywhere you please

We can mass-produce anything to accommodate your every need
and we have so much technology, you don't even have to be able to read
You can live whatever life you want through a cellular phone
and if you ever become homeless, we promise, you won't be alone

Here, the world truly is your apple, so don't be afraid to bite
And don't let yourself be discouraged by someone else's plight
They will have their day, so let this one be yours
and enjoy the world from war divided continents to oil-slick ocean shores

It's all about boiling yourself down to your senses
only then can you cast aside your pretenses
That's when you'll feel that global energy in the air
and you'll know you're in the world Where We Don't Care

The Dine in the Dark Poem

Last week I had the pleasure of performing a couple of times. Most notably I performed at Dine in the Dark for the third time. They hosted an event for World Environment Day and had representatives from the UN and pretty much every green industry around Thailand at their tables, and even had em up giving speeches in the dark. Imagine that.

Benjamin, one of the owners, knows I write about such things as world affairs --environmental, social, and otherwise -- and invited me to contribute to the night. I was happy to accept, of course; this topic is much more my element than the last time, and it had been a while since I last worked with them.

Well, in addition to doing an environmentally friendly poem (which I will post in another blog HERE), they asked me to do this poem which I wrote for them a couple months ago now. It is THE Dine in the Dark poem! Possibly the ONLY ONE OF ITS KIND!! Lol. It was just somethin fun I decided to TRY and do after experiencing Dine in the Dark myself. I thought the experience was hella unique and I dig the social awareness aspects of it, so I thought I would try and capture all that in a poem, one that they would hopefully like and be able to USE. Contribute to the cause. At the time I thought it would turn out to just be a cheesy poem that wouldn't hold much water outside of this context, and I was okay with that, just thought it would be cool to do so I DID. But it turned out or turned into a pretty nice poem. Much to my own surprise. And everybody seems to like it, so...yay for me! ;)

I posted it on their facebook page once I finished it and designed it to look all snazzy and cool, which is not something I'm really good at, but I guess I'll...I'm not sure what I'll do. I thought I'd post that version of it here, but blogspot kind of shrinks it and it's hard to read, so...I think I'll just post both, text and picture, so you can see what I mean AND read it with ease. :)

OH, so I performed this for the first time at the restaurant to a roomful of people (30-40) IN THE DARK, and it went down really well! It was fun, it was cool, I was happy. The people seemed to really click with it, they got the jokes, so the piece definitely works. And I'm already lookin forward to do it again the next time they call me in. Here it is. If you haven't seen it, lemme know what you think. And if you haven't dined in the dark yet, I suggest you get on that too! ;)

The Dine in the Dark Poem

Be led into the darkness until your mind is full of light
Follow a man with four senses as he turns you left and right
Consider what life would be like if you really had no sight
Let go of your old fears of what is hiding in the night

Step forward, take your seat, feel what is in front of you
Sit in anticipation and give welcome to the new
Every movement you make is a thought you follow through
and soon you’ll cut your food up just like you did when you were two

You have made a reservation to turn off your reservations
and open up your senses to a sense of exploration
Taste and smell will lead the way on this rarest of occasions
as your mouth secretly indulges in the rush of information

Cease your eyes from searching for the momentary spark
Take comfort in your company and the humorous remarks
Even if the mess you made is the only way you leave your mark
that is just another part & joy of Dining in the Dark

Enjoy this memorable dinner until the final savory bite
New perspectives on old things often give us new insights
so notice when you walk out you'll be feeling VERY bright
Tonight is the night on which the blind will lead the blind to light

.

Ode to Perseverance

I wrote this after high school, 1st or second year of college I think, don't have an exact date, but...I'm thankful that it's touched a few lives over the years. It's good to get it up in video form, maybe it can reach a few more. I'm posting the words like this because it's so hard to do irregular spacing in HTML, it's really not the worth the headache when this can work just as well.

Enjoy peeps!

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The Blessed World of Breasts

A poem written for a charity event, raising funds for breast cancer. The story behind it is HERE. As I said at the event, please don't let the silliness of my poem detract from the seriousness of the issue.

It's meant to be read with quite a bit of sincerity (to make it all the more cheesy), and a beautiful (busty) woman at hand. For me to make suggestive hand motions towards of course, and maybe rest my head upon. ;-)

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The Blessed World of Breasts

3-12-12

Oh how we do so love our breasts
those objects of pleasure to which we’re obsessed
or the softest of places on which we rest
our heads when they are full of stress
and relieve us from all of this unrest
like we’ve been placed inside a nest
and there’s no reason in the world to be depressed
because...how bad could the world be….
if we have breasts
 
I still remember the success of my first quest
to find my own sucken treasure chest
and the joy it brought I could not suppress
since the coming of which was....so quickly expressed
But it is not the joy of tatas I’ve come to undress, I mean Address!
Address...It is not the joy of tatas I've come to address
It is on these mounds of love I’d love to attest
and I hope to speak on their behest
while holding on firmly....to their interests
 
Although it may seem I speak in jest
I actually stand in earnestness
and hope with my words to impress
the dangers of some cancerous pests
that threaten to deflate those lovely life vests
with a mess of pain and much distress
towards which we should all share detest
and unite in the name of....breast cancer awareness
 
So don’t be afraid to suggest or request
to your family, bosom buddy or a love-interest
to take the proper steps to stay abreast
of whatever’s going on inside their chest
because ladies it doesn’t matter if you’re blessed
with a little more...or a little less
what matters is if your breasts can pass the test
of a breast exam and a good doctor’s caress
because it's healthy breasts....that are the best
 
And at last we should give thanks to every guest
who came here tonight from east and west
and have done far more than you could guess
even found the time & money to invest
in putting....BREAST CANCER to rest
an independent media team shot a little news report on the event, they included part of my performance (1:19), pretty cool stuff all around though.

Sometimes My Heart is a Drop of Rain

Sometimes my heart is a cuckoo clock that only opens once a year
and sometimes my heart is a table top that no one wants to clear
sometimes my heart is a candle flame—enough light for one surveyor
sometimes my heart is a drop of rain, falling forth as an answered prayer

Sometimes my heart is a chest of drawers, so full it can't be closed
and sometimes my heart is a repertoire that has yet to be composed
Sometimes my heart is a photograph—pulling upon the past
sometimes my heart is a watered plant that drinks love much too fast

Sometimes my heart is a dusty shelf that no one seems to notice
and sometimes my heart is a wishing well that longs to hold a lotus
sometimes my heart is an hour glass that never seems to fill
sometimes my heart is a thunder clap and breaks all that is still

Sometimes my heart is a locked door that dreams to be left open
and sometimes my heart is a metaphor that doesn't want to rhyme
Sometimes my heart is a hobbled chair which still believes it can be trusted
Sometimes my heart is record player—turning even when it's rusted

Sometimes my heart is a beautiful book with one word on every page
and sometimes my heart is a soiled root digging out of my rib cage
sometimes my heart is a picture frame, destined to hold the frozen
sometimes my heart is a drop of rain and falls until it's broken


_

The Time is Nigh -- 99%

all i wanna do is write
i don’t even wanna read
all i wanna do is fight
for the light i think we need
to find to set things right
unblind us to the greed
remind us that we’re right
to decide for whom we bleed
to demand instead of plead
for a land devoid of plight
at the hands of those who lead
to stand up and unite
and bite those hands that feed
a bogus line of sight
they’d have us to believe
is fine and pure as white
despite the dark it breeds

there’s not a day or night
nor a breath i breathe
that doesn’t reek of fright
for all the pain i see
that’s been there all my life
ignored by so many
that’ve learned to walk upright
with no integrity

but now the time is right
to unwind the lies they weave
uproot the vines of spite
and finally plant new seeds
show our own forthright
and fight until we’re freed
i’m tired of being polite
about these shameful deeds
that reach a higher height
as we walk on our knees

i wanna beat all the might
that we might meet
with our insights that incite us
to pack these streets
til they’re tight with the knowledge
of what we can be
til we ignite the revolution
that sets our minds free

These Streets

Please beware of these streets.
And please be aware
of all their tricks and treats.

And don’t be scared to reach for more
than what’s at your feet.
Don’t learn what they teach,
don’t take what they hold,
these streets can be a leech on
each of our souls,
like bleach on our clothes—
leave holes that won’t close—
they reap but don’t sow,
they preach but don’t know.

And if you get too deep,
you’ll be a seed that won’t grow.
But if you make that leap
you’ll become a hero,
for all the people
down at the depot,
sittin’ front-row,
waitin’ for a bus that’s comin’
but don’t show.
For all the people runnin and runnin
but don’t go—
ANYWHERE EVER!

Plenty men sever their dreams whenever it seems
they’ll never achieve the better they need,
whatever believed would breathe Godspeed
into a life that breeds darkness!
The heartless beget the heartless
in an artless cycle
where the smartest only get the farthest
if their sharpness can cut through the harness
HOLDING ALL OF US BACK,
under a sky that looks starless and Black
as if it
were our
Reflection.

The Storm

The Storm I

10-19-10

"the things that can fall out of you in 20 minutes time..."


The Storm is like a beggar
It is like a crying child
The purest form of nectar
that makes humming birds go wild

The Storm is like an apple
being eaten by your eye
or beams of pure light dappled
by a single burning fly

It is a call unto your arms
and unto your heart of soul
It is a place of charmless charms
where rocks are always on the roll

It is a piece of every scruple
that can rot it from within
like when reason finds a loophole
in which new loops can begin

The Storm is music’s quietude
and of music’s great orgasm
The Storm is when you build a ship
to sail a timeless chasm

There’s no telling where it took you
Even though you’ve always been
It is where words dissolve in sound
to say “Fuck you” to the Pen

The Storm is friends with Loneliness
and neighbors with Depression
but the greatest love it’s ever had
is pregnant with Inception

There’s no birth without its blessing
nor a life it cannot fill
yet the Storm just waits there coolly
for more of us to do its will

Living and Dying (sonnet)

Living and Dying (VI)

? - 9-15-99

Living and dying one day at a time
Is a never ending path through progress.
Visions of perfection appear, regress
If doubted, and then reappear like rhyme
Nipping at a numb mind, until sublime
Grace falls in place and shows the flawlessness
All through space—evermore and never less.
Neglecting no longer one grain of time
Doubting the truths that have always been true.
Death is indeed a fateful certainty,
Yet it's no finality. Do not think
It is the end, for life is energy.
Nothing can change that: you will continue.
Godlike, it is the eye that does not blink.

Crystal Countenance

While I was writing the last post I thought about including one of my old pieces from HS. Just to give you an idea of how angsty and indignant I was back then (especially towards my peers), and how it came out in my writing. This is a pretty good example, one I still remember well. I guess you could say it's dedicated to everyone who's ever wasted my time with "social niceties" and/or subscribed to the idea that we're all supposed to act and think the same way. Which is pretty much the dominant point of view of any high school, right? Still, the extent of it was very disturbing to me and I thought for sure the movie Disturbing Behavior was based on true events. ;-)

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Crystal Countenance

11-23 - 25-98

In all the great expectations
I am the unexpected
I don't want to be the norm
and I don't care if I'm accepted
Just see me for who I am
and make your decision
Would you rather see me as a person
or like an apparition
Not that I need to remind you
to place your judgments upon me
You people have been doing it for years
I wouldn't expect it any differently
I'm just getting really tired
of all the B.S.
The acting, empty "Hi"s,
and constant fake-ness
You people know I'm strange
You know I'm not like you
We live in different lights
We see in different hues
Get over it already
It's not a big deal
The ability to be unique
isn't strictly surreal
It is still possible
for a person to be original
tread a new path
or do somethin' else irrational
Just stop pretending
and acting like you care
You know you don't like knowing me
So forget that I'm there
Stop wasting my time
and for once in your life be true
You might as well look past me
'Cuz I already see through you

Occupy Their Minds

Welcome to the world of walls and streets,
where violence police come to silence drum beats
with all the support of politicians in charge
of a corrupt fat cow they milk, by and large.
And their central advice: “Buy MORE and enlarge,
whatever you have, never mind the surcharge!
Because bigger is better and more is never enough.
You should believe what we say, but please, don’t call our bluff.
We hate to disappoint and we’d hate to use force,
but rest assured we will keep this sinking ship on course.
We have no other ideas but to propagate this way
and if you don’t like it, it’s fine, but don’t voice your dismay
or if you do, then at least keep it out of downtown.
If you want we can show you how to Keep Your Voice DOWN.”

Welcome to the world where those in power
will do anything to postpone their final hour,
even betray the interests they’ve sworn to uphold.
They’re not interested in much that can’t be bought and sold.
Being bought and paid for is a time honored tradition,
anyone who says otherwise may get a taste of extradition.
Even peaceful people collecting thoughts in public parks
will be drug out of their tents and beaten in the dark
by the very people they trust to protect
their rights, their lives, but what do they expect
when those rights can be amended by the right blank check,
it’s just a matter of time before everything’s a wreck
and our government in NO WAY reflects our intellect!

Welcome to the world where disparity is inevitable
and kids can grow up thinking pizza’s a kind of vegetable.
You can’t hide from all the shames, like how Wikipedia
is clearly more trustworthy than our “independent” media.
Not much is more important than the sacred status quo
for all of those who made it and are rolling out the dough.
“You deserve all you can get,” they say, “especially if ya got it rough.
And if you get way less than most, well then that’s….just….tough.”
But the time has finally come when we are starting to question
why so many can make millions during a global recession.
While millions of homes were boarded up and shuttered
the upper crust enjoyed bonuses, paid with YOUR bread and butter!

Now that you know the truth, now you know this must change.
More than the USUAL reshuffle and rearrange.
We cannot have a government less interested in our votes
than it is in personal gain, control and stock quotes.
Occupy their minds. Make em jump at each new start.
Feel free to raise your voice, and keep a riot in your heart.
Walk the fine line between rebellion and release.
Remember they want complacency, but they’ll often call it peace.
Remember that the cops are but little black pawns.
The real enemy must be fought with our brains, not brawns.
Take care of each other, you have more than fists and feet,
and they’re scared enough already of our strange drum beat.
We just have to keep it steady, stand armed with common tools
and we’ll remind them that it IS the majority that rules!