a haiku. because shit, why not.

forget about it.

eliminate negatives.

different focus.

Pouring Rain .

Pouring rain, watch it start and stop;
sheets fall down, just a single raindrop.
Driving blind on a two lane highway,
hazard lights flashing so the cars can get by me.
Past pain alleviate, let stress deviate,
from the path it was on, cause the Weather Channel's wrong.
Sunshine, mostly, pull me in closely,
from dawn, 5:32 am; until nightfall, when I go to bed.
Driving down the local roads, under some stressful loads,
focusing on driving slow, 10 mph under the speed limit he goes
Mind draws a blank, what's the next line?
Searching through my mind but can't seem to find a rhyme
Escapee from the job, Guantanamo's oppression;
Steadfast like a heart that allows no digression
Drive safe, indicator lights flash, jump out the driver's side door in a mad dash
for the house and its safety, and the desire to escape the
exterior thundershower, relentless downpour,
at least we ain't got tornadoes knocking down our poor door.
Short little thing that I wrote down right here,
the rain's got me tired, need to sleep, it's true
pounding raindrops on my face, 'til I let loose.

Just Life .

No make up.
No hidden scars.
No break ups.
No broken hearts.
No lying, cheating, or stealing,
just living life and healing.
No confusion, no hot and cold,
no fighting until we grow old.
No arguing through the night,
just dancing and enjoying life.
No blank stares inside,
just seeing fire in your eyes.
Take a cold heart of stone,
open it in secret, alone;
feed it love and watch it grow,
life happens now, so here we go!
No repeat problems, don't try to avoid and dodge them,
talk it out, laugh about, and never cease to be a gentleman.
Never wanted complications.
Never needed innovations.
Just some well-deserved conversations,
without any implications.
Sitting on the beach tonight,
feet wet with sand, in the moonlight,
if we do this now let's do it right,
Drive safe as you head home tonight.

If I Were Rich .

If I were rich, would I be a good person?

Would I share my wealth and good fortune or be consumed with gluttony?

Would I exude generosity and share all that I had, or leave my leftovers for those less fortunate?

Would I justify treating myself often, convincing myself that I needed this or that?

Would I trade in my Nissan for an Aston Martin, JC Penney suit for a designer one, and sneakers for high-end loafers?

Would I give more than I received, and have it in me to still hold tight to my values?

Or would I forget them, and let my heart be corrupted with selfish ways?

If I won the lottery, where would the money go?

Sure, pay off my student loans, and debt to my parents, and then put the rest away.

But for what -- to make more money? Is it planning ahead or being selfish?

Sometimes I envision an easier life without money. I understand why you cannot give a homeless man the world and expect him to learn what to do with it.

Because living without is easier than living with. Things are simpler.

Life is simpler.

You are not a subject of jealousy, you are not hated for your fortune.

If I became a billionaire, I could help so many in need.

Despite countless charitable donations, I would still have so much left over --

Does that make me a generous man? Or a stingy wealthy man?

Is it about percentage? After all, is a small donation coming from a large pool really self-sacrifice?

Where is the line? The line between poverty and suffering versus comfort and fortune?

When does pity turn to equality turn to jealousy?

Do we hate because we desire and covet?

Or are we frustrated with our lack of skill, education, luck, success?

If only we had that one chance, that one break, that one winning ticket.

Would we be changed for the better, or suffer having known what we could have been?

I fear my internal wiring would be rearranged, with delusions of grandeur and an obsession for status,

tearing me limb from limb, rotting me to the core until there is simply nothing left.

outsider .

New scene, new place. Traveled far from home.
Things are not the same here. Things are different.
I may be of the same age, type, level, and yet I am not the same.
I am not a part of this world; I am not a part of you.
And no matter what we do --
This thing, I think, might always be true.
I don't just think it; I fear it too.

first kiss .

It was a date for that night, and I was a wreck
And by that I mean my heart was aflutter
Was hoping I wouldn't miss or stutter
Or embarrass myself because I was so nervous

pick up .

This one is dedicated to those who reached out over the past day... you guys are irreplaceable.

ash wednesday .

I was trying to think an appropriate and profound way to approach the mood of the day, and couldn't find one. However, while messing around on my laptop, I came across an article about Ash Wednesday on AOL news and ended up following a link to a poem called Ash Wednesday by T.S. Eliot. While I consider myself somewhat of a mediocre writer, I think that he can say it better than I ever could. Don't forget; no meat today and make sure you have something for your Lenten fast! Enjoy the poem:

video responses .

There's been a video going around called "Why I Hate Religion, but Love Jesus." Originally I think it was finding its way around Facebook, and since I don't have one, I hadn't originally seen it. However, someone posted it to one of my friends' Tumblrs and so I ended up being in the digital loop that is normally constrained to Facebook. When I first watched it, I pretty much agreed. But what sort of person would I be if I just took one person's opinion and accepted it without looking at the others? I started to look at the video responses. And what I found began to add a whole new separate part to this story.