My voice is my soul peering out from between the trees.
It is a child gazing in wonder at it's mother as the world turns grey.
My voice looks in adoration at three tombstones and shouts their stories onto the page.
It is something I can always call my own and will never lose.
My voice is my own. It is my eyes and ears and mouth and heart.
My voice is my love and my anger and my hate and my truth.
My voice is loud and full of hope and clarity and pain.
My voice is my own.
It belongs to no other.
Not a bee nor a bear may ever pilfer this treasure from me.
My voice is a jewel, a treasure, a weight and a burden.
I love my voice as much as i hate it and more.
My voice is my downfall and ressurects me daily.
My voice is not yours.
My voice is the world.
As am I.
20 October 2011
13 August 2011
Boardwalk
I never challenge the medium of ink to a page,
Pens to the street,
Kicks up on ya seats,
Seeing painted palm trees gingerly planted,
Inserted in dirt from the Depot,
There’s no sand on this beach,
Not anymore,
No brownish white
No soft,
Not like it was
Not like we knew.
Russian-Polish dialects flood the air
Around broken planks
Paint yellowed, white, and parched
From salty breezes of sea air,
Surrounded by seagulls, and pigeon shit covered lamp posts.
A drizzle sets in and my coffee gets cold,
Ducking under painted pavilion tops where there used to be free sky.
It’s all brand new,
Sculpted and blue,
Rain on the beach doesn’t mean going home anymore.
Recalling days we sat by the water,
Relaxing with 22 ounces of brew,
Or a can of coke and my Dutch friend from Philly,
A smile flits across my lips thinking of pre-games,
And getting ready songs before we hit our P.T. destinations.
Adidas to the planks-
My laces are thinner now,
Passing bocce courts and horseshoes,
Playgrounds abound with slides, swings, and giant silver screws.
I remember leaning down 17 years ago to brush gravel dust off my Etnies,
Swinging legs up onto broken benches,
Passing stories,
Smoking truth and collapsing into laughing fits.
Now I watch a yellow contraption comb the sand,
Leaving tire tracks and skinny lines,
Docks jut out just half the length they were,
Jettys just rocks where we used to walk out.
Watching them crumble under rebel feet,
Disregarding danger signs taking mossy steps,
And jumping into the icy black sea.
Green moss covered stones,
Scrub brush and grass grow
Over what used to be pure,
We used to be pure.
The sand is dirt now.
No brownish white,
No soft.
Ill fitted screws and
Bolts in the deck
Wobble as joggers amble by
But the playground sparkles with corporate glee.
Refurbished boardwalk,
Tables to gut fish beside a reception hall,
Where a beer is 8 dollars and a steak is 35.
It feels cleaner to be here but less like home,
Under the cover of summer with
2 feet firmly down,
Pounding avenues I knew so well,
Feels like meeting for the first time.
Heads held high,
Watching skywriters advertise on a banner,
We were young
And the boardwalk was home.
Pens to the street,
Kicks up on ya seats,
Seeing painted palm trees gingerly planted,
Inserted in dirt from the Depot,
There’s no sand on this beach,
Not anymore,
No brownish white
No soft,
Not like it was
Not like we knew.
Russian-Polish dialects flood the air
Around broken planks
Paint yellowed, white, and parched
From salty breezes of sea air,
Surrounded by seagulls, and pigeon shit covered lamp posts.
A drizzle sets in and my coffee gets cold,
Ducking under painted pavilion tops where there used to be free sky.
It’s all brand new,
Sculpted and blue,
Rain on the beach doesn’t mean going home anymore.
Recalling days we sat by the water,
Relaxing with 22 ounces of brew,
Or a can of coke and my Dutch friend from Philly,
A smile flits across my lips thinking of pre-games,
And getting ready songs before we hit our P.T. destinations.
Adidas to the planks-
My laces are thinner now,
Passing bocce courts and horseshoes,
Playgrounds abound with slides, swings, and giant silver screws.
I remember leaning down 17 years ago to brush gravel dust off my Etnies,
Swinging legs up onto broken benches,
Passing stories,
Smoking truth and collapsing into laughing fits.
Now I watch a yellow contraption comb the sand,
Leaving tire tracks and skinny lines,
Docks jut out just half the length they were,
Jettys just rocks where we used to walk out.
Watching them crumble under rebel feet,
Disregarding danger signs taking mossy steps,
And jumping into the icy black sea.
Green moss covered stones,
Scrub brush and grass grow
Over what used to be pure,
We used to be pure.
The sand is dirt now.
No brownish white,
No soft.
Ill fitted screws and
Bolts in the deck
Wobble as joggers amble by
But the playground sparkles with corporate glee.
Refurbished boardwalk,
Tables to gut fish beside a reception hall,
Where a beer is 8 dollars and a steak is 35.
It feels cleaner to be here but less like home,
Under the cover of summer with
2 feet firmly down,
Pounding avenues I knew so well,
Feels like meeting for the first time.
Heads held high,
Watching skywriters advertise on a banner,
We were young
And the boardwalk was home.
Ode to the Codes (2011)
10306 you grew me up,
taught me how to toast,
smoke, rave,
drive and flip cups.
10304 you taught me solidarity,
how to be alone and strong,
be myself—no one else,
and then move the hell on.
10013 gave a glimpse of how things might be,
to a girl living in the big city,
testing boundaries often but not pressing hard enough,
losing sight of everything, blindness, and home again.
10306 a brief re-visit,
I relish all additional damage you did.
Some say one should never go back,
but my hometown zip always reeled in my slack.
10314 spawned a five-year party,
conflagration of company just like it used to be,
a smart move: back to school,
finally a real job!
10314 again was another first,
a house became a home,
first real one in years,
but no more living alone.
07044 well you know,
I am never sure where that story will go.
I've managed to try and for years made it stick,
But not without gallons and gallons of ick.
10301 returning once more,
A year ran rapidly by triple locking my door,
On a hill just up the street,
Will I ever have a permanent code in which to rest my weary feet?
With brief batches of 718, 917 and 646,
One can almost be fooled that a 973 might stick.
The one thing I've learned from all these first few,
Is to never let a zip code-ever define you.
taught me how to toast,
smoke, rave,
drive and flip cups.
10304 you taught me solidarity,
how to be alone and strong,
be myself—no one else,
and then move the hell on.
10013 gave a glimpse of how things might be,
to a girl living in the big city,
testing boundaries often but not pressing hard enough,
losing sight of everything, blindness, and home again.
10306 a brief re-visit,
I relish all additional damage you did.
Some say one should never go back,
but my hometown zip always reeled in my slack.
10314 spawned a five-year party,
conflagration of company just like it used to be,
a smart move: back to school,
finally a real job!
10314 again was another first,
a house became a home,
first real one in years,
but no more living alone.
07044 well you know,
I am never sure where that story will go.
I've managed to try and for years made it stick,
But not without gallons and gallons of ick.
10301 returning once more,
A year ran rapidly by triple locking my door,
On a hill just up the street,
Will I ever have a permanent code in which to rest my weary feet?
With brief batches of 718, 917 and 646,
One can almost be fooled that a 973 might stick.
The one thing I've learned from all these first few,
Is to never let a zip code-ever define you.
29 July 2011
wakedream
ok close your eyes and imagine this:
blue skies, warm sand, lapping waves, ocean breeze, calming sunshine.
now open your eyes and realize:
there are other people in the world and encapsulated life is not reality.
by all means stop and smell a flower
but when you pick up your head watch out for the X1 speeding by.
ya might just get smooshed.
and if it isn't a bus maybe its a bolt
or a break
or a storm.
so then like adults we learn to
suck up the pain and be grateful there are feelings to feel
and the numb gets overwritten
with something other than the me me me.
because it's exhausting how egocentric
how small
how hurtful
how petty
how closed-minded
how blind to the obvious
people can be.
blue skies, warm sand, lapping waves, ocean breeze, calming sunshine.
now open your eyes and realize:
there are other people in the world and encapsulated life is not reality.
by all means stop and smell a flower
but when you pick up your head watch out for the X1 speeding by.
ya might just get smooshed.
and if it isn't a bus maybe its a bolt
or a break
or a storm.
so then like adults we learn to
suck up the pain and be grateful there are feelings to feel
and the numb gets overwritten
with something other than the me me me.
because it's exhausting how egocentric
how small
how hurtful
how petty
how closed-minded
how blind to the obvious
people can be.
Summer Corpse 3
The most incomprehensible thing about the universe is that he is understandable.
I like chocolate milk, it is very good.
You wanted things back how they were before,
It seems like the nice person always finishes last.
I've always wondered if there is an original evil human.
There was a girl who wanted to be a dancer.
One sad September morning as I saw my mother leaving for work,
I made my first steps down the stairs.
Fifth Avenue subway station, stuck for nearly half hour inside Q train
Even if you know the way, ask one more time.
I want to visit LA but I have no time.
But I wonder why I think about all these things, I just want to dance
I like chocolate milk, it is very good.
You wanted things back how they were before,
It seems like the nice person always finishes last.
I've always wondered if there is an original evil human.
There was a girl who wanted to be a dancer.
One sad September morning as I saw my mother leaving for work,
I made my first steps down the stairs.
Fifth Avenue subway station, stuck for nearly half hour inside Q train
Even if you know the way, ask one more time.
I want to visit LA but I have no time.
But I wonder why I think about all these things, I just want to dance
Summer Corpse 2
A weary soul must rest, once it has done it's best.
One wall Handball is one of the Sports of the best sports of all most played in New York City .
Thank God I found the good in goodbye
Only if i knew she wasn't gana be here
People started to come out to Byrant park with Vodka to watch 'Hang over'
Nowdays, the weather is crazy. I cannot believe it how the weather is like this!
i wish i was home right now feeling really dizzy and bloated.
Kick can crew, Kick the can crew. Imma do me so what will you do.
i wish i can go to the beach with my friends and family but thank god that the weekend is almost here
Today is the perfect weather to be at the beach, but im stuck in school.
Took new scarf back to store because it was too tight
I hate arguing with her make me angry and sad.
Batman can fly if he is high and superman can be jump.
living earlier makes me more happy
One wall Handball is one of the Sports of the best sports of all most played in New York City .
Thank God I found the good in goodbye
Only if i knew she wasn't gana be here
People started to come out to Byrant park with Vodka to watch 'Hang over'
Nowdays, the weather is crazy. I cannot believe it how the weather is like this!
i wish i was home right now feeling really dizzy and bloated.
Kick can crew, Kick the can crew. Imma do me so what will you do.
i wish i can go to the beach with my friends and family but thank god that the weekend is almost here
Today is the perfect weather to be at the beach, but im stuck in school.
Took new scarf back to store because it was too tight
I hate arguing with her make me angry and sad.
Batman can fly if he is high and superman can be jump.
living earlier makes me more happy
Summer Corpse 1
it's the right now's that count more then the moments for tomorrow is not promise.
And like a rare and precious jewel
Its treasured more each year
and the river floats like a sheet of glass
Like ocean waves your words wash away
As she slowly strolled toward the florescent sun she felt the worries escape.
In each of us , there is beauty, we just need to let it out !!!
Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me
At the blossoming age, beauty flows with no fair.
Alone, I wake u and your not here
When you aim to find a purpose then your life becomes worthwhile
Once you enter you will be enlightened by the beauty of my soul.
And like a rare and precious jewel
Its treasured more each year
and the river floats like a sheet of glass
Like ocean waves your words wash away
As she slowly strolled toward the florescent sun she felt the worries escape.
In each of us , there is beauty, we just need to let it out !!!
Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me
At the blossoming age, beauty flows with no fair.
Alone, I wake u and your not here
When you aim to find a purpose then your life becomes worthwhile
Once you enter you will be enlightened by the beauty of my soul.
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