Thursday, February 21, 2008

Si Hoc Legere Scis Nimium Eruditionis Habes

An assignment from class

In a paragraph, describe the following:

1. What a stifled scream looks like.

Once, while at the Mecca of “Roll Back Prices” (Wal-Mart), I nearly witnessed a quadruple homicide. A young mother of four boys, all under the age of 10 was in the check-out lane, holding an innumerable amount of clipped coupons and looking exhausted. The boys, a collective hell-spawn of ornery, snot-nosed brats were raising hell like it was their last day alive. Food from opened boxes was flying in all directions, cusswords thrown around like everyday business; it was a scary sight to behold. The youngest, which, in my opinion was probably the worst, had picked up a gallon of milk and was holding it dangerously close to the edge of the handlebar. He looked purely evil, grinning with two huge buckteeth, and pondering the outcome of what he was about to do next. Suddenly, the milk came down, as in slow motion, falling...falling…BAM-GUSH! The mother’s shoes were absolutely white, and her face couldn’t have been more red. She shook violently, her tiny body convulsing as if she was in an earthquake all by herself. Her eyes even seemed to have nearly crossed. I was instantly reminded of Yosemite Sam when he almost shot his own foot off. All she needed was the steam escaping from her ears. Despite how comical her reaction, it took nearly everything she had to not just destroy the entire store with her rage. A few tears gathered at the corner of her eyes as people rushed to help clean up the spill. A small but worthless smile was all she could manage; this was a woman on the edge.

2. What a black rose sounds like.

I will scream disruption
A thorn in your side
My swollen petals
Showing what you can’t have

Not afraid to charm you
It’s all I have left
Now forget me not
It’s what you’ll never hear

Lies spoken, wicked heart
Beautiful sound
Piercing your deaf ear

I’m not to be trusted

3. What a riot smells like.

The bitter sweet aroma of sweat and fear filled the air. Gasoline burned my nose as the fires consumed buildings of dirt and wet brick. The rain, at first, had been welcomed by many, cleansing the earth with its fragrant, calming reassurance, but later on, the rancid mud intermingled with leaking chemicals causing discomfort and sickness. The hot tires of police and ambulance vehicles smoked furiously upon leaving, and literally choked whoever was in their vicinity with the notion of burned rubber and melted asphalt. So many angry, bleeding, beaten people were wandering around lost and aimless. It was like stepping into a dialysis clinic for the first time; the one thing that you noticed from the beginning is the scent of blood and oncoming death. Then the S.W.A.T. came, a black menacing power. The tear gas was harsh, bitter and suffocating, tearing at my lungs with foggy aftertaste.

4. What falling in love tastes like.

It’s so hard, you know
On the weak knees
Giving all your best
Just to simply please

Stumbling and falling
Over and so far down
Wanting a sweet kiss
Planted on your dizzy frown

Striving and trying
You like her skirt
But all you ever get is
A mouthful of dirt


Tuesday, February 19, 2008

Looking for a Saving Grace

We unconciously look for certain people to be in our young lives, those who will do a little something extra for us in the esteem department. With developed, before our time knowledge, they bring our minds to a point of enlightenment and often provide a drive for us to better ourselves. We love them for how wanted they make us feel when they give us attention and praise that we missed out on. They are a substitute parental figure without all the guilt, resentment or pressure. They are our favorite people.
Sometimes, we are at a loss when we find out they too have shortcomings, fears and problems. It makes you think; "Is the world full of nothing but broken people?" What I have chosen to do lately is to embrace those faults with an open mind. Knowing that it may just be responsible for creating the person you love. However, with all the leniency I may give, I feel that (at this moment in life anyway) that I am the only person I could ever truly rely on. I get myself out of situations. I can chose to love myself just the way I am. I am my biggest fan. This sometimes gets in the way of letting people in.
My question is, where are our heros? Where are those princes and white horses when all we see is wicked witches and big, ugly towers. Do people with rough childhoods become so jaded at such a young age that we fail to see the romanticism and allure of finding a true confidant? Is it us or them? They are not the enemy, we are.

Monday, February 18, 2008

In the beginning....

I love the way that the world looks in the late afternoon. The pale sunlight burning through the cream curtains of my living room reminds me that I need to be grateful and happy. It's a new day, and my life is beginning. I am alone with so many others.

What will today bring me? What or who will I encounter? The truth of the matter is, is that I don't know, and I will never leave my home in complete charge of anything. Even though I may think that I am, I have to give myself over to a higher power (whatever it is) and just let it go, take me where it wills me to be. That's the key, that's the trick. I do so with a grin.