what will today be like? how about tomorrow? should we start planning for next week? our lives are cluttered, our minds are filled to the brim. we're constantly worried about things. we wake up, and nothing seems to have changed. but this is not necessarily a bad thing. and when you feel overwhelmed, or if the day, or perhaps your life, begins to slowly creep up on you..

stop.

close your eyes.

and take a deep breath. allow the pleasure of life to fill your lungs and exit through your mouth. that's all you need to worry about this moment. steady breathing and focus. life comes at you one thing at a time. sometimes we can handle that, sometimes we need help. seeking out this help is normal. depending on yourself to get you through is, too. all you have is today. tomorrow does not exist, and yesterday is already gone. you would no sooner stay up at night imagining ghosts exist in your closet, than you would worrying about the phantoms of the future. sooner or later the ghosts will burst out.

life isn't always about moving forward. sometimes it's about stopping. allow yourself to stop once in a while, we are not machines. we are life forces like the trees and water, with our own meanings of existence.

the world is so much simpler at 2 a.m. in the morning with all of the lights out and only my thoughts and music to occupy my mind.

they are one of those people,
where if happiness were cookies,
they'd be your friend's mom,
who always baked enough for everyone.

they've always been there,
dependable as a lawn sprinkler,
that turns on overnight unnoticed,
and helps everything around it grow.

there they are next to you,
like a friend on the dance floor,
busting some ridiculous move,
just so you can feel comfortable.

they are,
THE MEGADRAGONZORD OF FRIENDS!,
combining all the perfect things,
in to an unbeatable package.

i once saw a documentary
on some "father of the nation,"
who practiced self-efficiency
and patience and truth.
i tried to identify with him,
but failed.

i once saw a show on FOX
about a calculating man
whose impeccable genius
truly inspired my heart.
i tried to identify again,
but failed.

i once saw a Japanese show,
with a teen with really long hair,
who showed up late to class,
but had a bigger plan in store.
i tried to identify once more,
and failed.

one of these days,
i will look in the mirror,
see myself,
and try to identify,
with who i really am.

people wake up every day and feel indifferent. they are bored, with not much to look forward to. to them it is just another day. then something down the road happens. some people die or something happens and they feel alive. they reflect and feel grateful for what they have. they wake up with a different outlook on how their world works. soon this feeling fades and they are back to where they were. before they go to bed they feel nothing special. they assume tomorrow will come just like it always does. many people are bored and feel indifferent, apathetic. what does it take to get motivated? what is being motivated? what does it take to stop, take a breath, and reflect, without needing a tragedy to occur? why can't we as humans always feel that way? how you feel after a special song, or seeing the ending to an emotional movie. that feeling, where your life is briefly changed for a time. why can't we always have that? that is all i have to define myself by. unable to conjure my own definitions, i live and appreciate through the creative lens, however horrific, of others. love begins as a blossoming flower, continues as a stagnant oak, and ends as a weathering willow. a glance inside the head of a killer will only give you an inkling of his rationale. just like this obscure and insignificant entry.

how do you make sense of 33 dead?
some shot on their body, most in the head?
what brain like a Rubik's cube could possibly conceive,
to turn modern-day America in to Tel Aviv?
the media playing dumb, with their critical acclaim,
instead of seeing his message, they look for blame.
do you love your life more, now that you fear
everyday people, and not Ahmad Amir?
is it scary to think, that your life's end is near,
and one angry person, can make it disappear?

that stoic Asian face, plastered over the news,
and the repetitive phrases, they always overuse.
why did this happen, where do we go from here?
let's hold our heads high, and continue with the year.

"Where are the keys?"
"I've seemed to misplaced them"
"Oh jesus, fucking again?
You've got a problem you know that?"
"Yes dear, I'm sorry."

"Did you get the right ham?"
"I got the kind I always get"
"Fucking Christ, this is the wrong one!
Can't you get anything right?"
"I'm sorry..."

"Did you pick up my shirts?"
"I was so busy all day I forgot"
"What the fuck will I wear to work?
Wash what I wore today for me."
"Yes, I'm sorry, sure thing."

"I'm too tired to make love"
"Oh yes, you must be tired"
"I give you as much as I can,
I'm only human you know."

(quietly to herself)
"I am too, and I'm sorry."

airport

white
male
middle-aged
racing back to his family

white
female
young
getting off work - preparing for a date

black
male
middle-aged
lucky he has an expensive suit on

black
female
young
fortunate she's a stewardess

middle eastern
doesn't matter
doesn't matter
sir we're going to need you to step aside.

Personal Journal Entry of 4/6/2007 at 2:34 A.M.

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this is emotion, this is power.
this is why wives favor hatred
over 'i love you's of indifference!

this is why i write:
the chaotic internal winds
providing the power
of my creative windmill!

it is and forever will be
my greatest inspiration
to sit down and pour out how i feel
so all of you who get the fake me
can see who i truly am!

i come out at night like a vampire
and walk around the streets
looking for what i lost
in sewer gutters and trashcans
where'd you hide it
where'd you put it -
you demon of an existence -
you abhorring testament of mankind!
curse you - but more -
curse myself, for those wasted months.
i had a chance to be normal,
and you stripped that away from me
someone's got to take the blame!
perhaps my heart could forgive you,
if only i could find it
in some sewer gutter or trashcan.

rat out of its cage
scratch scratch scratch
better catch it soon
gnawing gnawing scratching

the panic rat is loose
and chewing on brain nerves!
excruciating pain - as anxiety takes hold
like a giant man procuring a teenage girl
a few feet away from the bus stop.

(((it is no time to be P.C.,
the man was probably black -
at least that's what the news tells me)))

how will you handle the rat
thats eating away at your sanity?
you can call up an Orkin man with a PhD
or deal with it yourself.

close your eyes, envision the rat,
create the trap for it, and wait.
m e d i t a t e
and catch it.

hi my name is stephen
an interesting fact?
and i write poetry
i fucking hate the first day of class

'oh, that's interesting'
yea, it sure is
'what kinds do you write?'
oh, all kinds i suppose, anything really

now just look at the next person
the attention is already tiring
'my name is james'
'i'm going to peru and i have a black belt'
'oh how interesting!'

my name is stephen,
and i write fucking poems...

emo kid get sad
and go write some poems
emo kid get sad, and go write some poems

emo kid get sad
no friends to call
emo kid get sad
no one to talk to at all

emo kid get sad
shit for self esteem
emo kid get sad
emo kid just a teen.

emo kid get sad
hate all of life
emo kid get sad
emo kid grabs a knife

emo kid get sad
cant go to sleep
emo kid get sad
emo kid weep

and i looked back over my shoulder,
waved a final good-bye,
and cried like a little schoolboy
who lost his box lunch on a field trip.

up the elevator we were just on,
past the automatic doors we'd been
through countless times,
i cried.

but there's something reassuring
about going through so much pain.
i know i must have loved
tremendously in the first place,
to have felt such sadness
upon farewell.