Minimal

Words can be so

unnecessary and

meaningless sometimes,

and it's best left

to pictures and

silence to figure

things out.

Trying to keep my writing to a minimal these days... I feel like I'm dressing up my words too much and saying unnecessary things.

Pencils and Paper

The satisfying sound

of pencil 

scratching on

paper

is something that 

never can be

replaced by

screens

and keyboards.

It's National Pencil Day (I'm not kidding, check out this fellow blogger's website and drawing! http://ornithoblogical.blogspot.com/2011/03/day-387-look-sharp.html

We all need to appreciate our little friend the pencil, as we overuse technology way too much.

Time

It's time to 

strip away 

this layer of 

lies and hurt 

and start again 

with a fresh slate; 

changing myself 

with the seasons 

and hope 

for a better 

spring. 

Spring and the coming of greenery always evoke the sense of changing and starting fresh. It's definitely time for me to get over my "wintery" attitude and welcome spring. Sigh. 

Street Art

Art comes

in all different

forms,

and is it

our right to

decide what

is allowed

or not?

I was walking around the Annex, which is an amazing area for shops, as well as street art. I was glad that I had remembered to bring my camera (I started a habit of bringing my camera where I go, in case I get a strike of inspiration). 

Lee's Palace In The Annex

Alley In The Annex Detail Of Left Side

Alley In The Annex Detail Of Left Side

Alley In The Annex Detail Of Right Side

Return

Feathered friends

return,

bringing quiet

chatter and 

a splash of

colour to

the dull wintery

scenery.

A pair of house finches came to visit us today... they're so cute, and a promising sign of spring. Sorry for the bad lighting, the background is sunlit while the area where the finches were is shaded, so I had to change the exposure to show more details.

Earth Hour

The soft glow

of candles light

up the faces

of my friends,

reflecting

the warmth I feel inside.

Watching the clock

as 60 minutes

tick by,

relying on

entertainment

without the use

of electricity,

it's much more satisfying.

Sitting in a 

dark house

out of hundreds 

more,

in a city

among thousands

with the lights

turned off,

to honour the world,

if only for

an hour.

Waiting

Sometimes

we are stuck

wandering an 

empty

street;

stuck waiting for

someone to come

or something

to show that we

still have something

to continue

living for.

Sometimes we 

would wait 

for the impossible,

knowing we could

stay in that

grey area

forever,

yet we still cling on

to that shred of hope

of finding the 

thing we're searching

for

and turn our world

upside down.

I was just listening to the song "We Used To Wait" by Arcade Fire, and the lyrics really stuck with me. I believe that all of us are stuck in a grey zone, waiting for something to happen, even if we're not consciously thinking about it. 

Thanks To Miral

Some things

just never get 

too old,

no matter

how many times we

do it or

how childish it may

seem.

 We're able to

cherish those

moments

etched in our

memories

and remember

to smile

in those

dark and brutal 

days

when the whole

world seems

to frown on

you.

Man, just reading my recent posts, and they're depressing! Miral reminded me that some things never get old, like playing in the snow (which I still do with my brother) and other things that I've learned to cherish and remember. Thanks, Miral, for making my day a little sunnier! 

Torn Apart

Radioactive blossoms,

shifting plates

and 15 meter waves

leave a path

of death and destruction,

taking and changing

the people who live—

lived there.

Buildings

have collapsed around

the heads

of those unable

to escape,

the victims

who never knew what

was coming.

Water washes over

the ruins

and shells

of people and

their livelihoods,

wiping 

this metropolis

off the maps.

Wrapped bodies

of students and 

teachers

lie on the 

floor of a gymnasium,

too many dead

for those alive

to take care of.

Families separated

never to see each other

again as a whole;

they are torn apart

like the country.

Radioactive Blossoms

Radioactive blossoms

flourish on 

the once 

busy site,

poisoning and 

creeping

across the 

city.

Unstoppable vines

of unleashed power

reach out

and snake around

the abandoned

and evacuated buildings,

invisible to

the naked eye.

What had happened

to this metropolis

that once thrived?

And the brave

few who had

stayed to

save the 

lives

who once relied on

the roots of these

radioactive

blossoms.

I'm sure many people have heard of the nuclear plant disaster in Japan, and about the brave group of workers who stayed behind to cool the overheating core and spent rods. On the New Yorker, on the latest issue, there's a very clever cover, with a drawing of a Japanese cherry blossom tree, but instead of petals, it was the radioactive sign. Radioactive blossoms stayed in my head the whole day, and this poem was created.

Like Yesterday

I remember

it like it

was yesterday

and not

3 years ago;

all the details

clear

in my mind.

The four a.m

wake up,

after a call,

running to the

car,

going to your room,

and seeing you

there;

pale

and lifeless.

I will

remember that

even though

you were gone,

I wasn't

crying like 

all those times

I sat at

the edge of your bed

and held

your hand.

I knew you had gone

to someplace

better,

where you

weren't in

pain,

and that

you would live

forever

in our hearts.

I love and miss you,

Grandma.

Dance

I fly,

my body off the 

ground

for the merest

second,

curving

and carving the 

space around me.

My limbs move

of their own

accord,

leading me

across the

floor

in a rhythmic,

intuitive

flow.

The impossible

is achievable,

as you support

and hold

someone

much larger then

you,

doing actions

you never dreamed

was possible for

you to do.

A way

for my mind 

and body to 

let go

and 

just

dance.

I take modern dance classes every Saturday, and it's a lot of fun. A lot of it is improv and creative movement, and the other parts are very cool technical moves. I'm actually able to pick up someone much larger then me, and to move across the floor without being judged. 

Old Friends, New Smiles

Old friends

renew,

and new smiles are shared

as we recount 

new events

that the other

will perhaps never

see in person.

A silence

broken,

I type quickly,

eager to hear of more,

so that I can

almost feel I'm still

there beside

you.

Though we may

be separated

by a screen and 

different schools,

I have to say

it's the closest

I've been in

awhile.

I May Be

I may be

insane,

but aren't we

all in 

our own

unique ways?

I may be weird, 

but don't we have

one weird 

quality

in each other?

I may be 

ugly,

but is
everything pretty?

I may be 

different, 

but aren't

we all?

Washed Away

People screaming,

children crying,

everything's breaking down.

Whatever happened

to those days

when you knew what

to do,

when everyone knew

what to do.

Shelter has

turned into

a death trap;

and realization

hits you hard.

You're going to die.

15 meter wall

of destruction sweeps

houses and

landscape away,

erasing your whole

town

off the face of the

map.

You wish you had

more time,

more hope,

time to say good-bye

to those you knew.

The walls explode 

around you,

windows and doors

shattered,

and you close your

eyes

and wait to be

carried away.

In Japan, a port side town got washed away, literally, by a 15 meter wave. They were prepared for a disaster, and were expecting 3-4 meter waves, so they went to the "safe" buildings to wait. Only 100 out of 1000 people survived. R.I.P

Misunderstood

How come

no one really

understands me?

They misinterpret the smallest

actions

and think

that I'm

doing something

I'm not,

or that I think

in a way 

I don't.

Even the 

people closest

to me

jump

to conclusions

about who I am

and what I stand for.

Just leave me alone

and judge other

people,

ok?

Insomnia

I open my eyes

and all I see 

is black

and darkness.

No sounds except

for the occasional

car passing by

at 4:00 a.m

and the ticking of 

my clock

that announces the time

with its soft glow. 

No comfort;

tossing and turning

in my covers,

twisting the covers around

me in an attempt

to submerse myself

back into

the dream world.

But now

I can only close

my eyes

and pretend

I can fall back

asleep.

Had the worst night of sleeping ever last night.... I'm so tired...

Promise Of Spring

A hint of spring

hiding beneath

the mixture of

snow and rain,

reviving

and refreshing

the greenery and nature

inside and outside.

Ugh... can't wait for spring to arrive! The weather is promising (it's raining more the snowing) and I can almost feel it. Winter is nice for awhile, but then I just need greenery and warmness outside right now.

Repaint As White

If I could I would

paint this world

white

and restart

our lives again.

To cover up this

black mess

and start

fresh; 

a blank paper to write

a new story

on of

hope,

peace,

health

and love.

Good and Evil

There is a constant

battle between

good and evil

inside our hearts,

each trying to vanquish 

the other.

There is no truly

pure evil

or good

in people;

always 

a shadow

of the opposite

hiding

on the edge

of their

consciousness.

There is no 

neat divide

where good 

and bad people

start and end,

as the ones

who judge and look upon

them decide

who is what.

So we must

embrace

our two sides

within ourselves

and turn into

an individual

who is neither

good or evil,

but a human.

Circus Freaks

I stand here

tears dripping

off my face,

yet despite

the crowd 

nobody notices

my sorrow.

They watch and 

jeer,

some fascinated

and others disgusted

by my form.

None of them step out

to rescue me

from this place.

"Monster."

"Freak!"

"Weirdo,"

They mutter and scream

at me,

thinking that

I'm not human

as well,

that I'm just

another exhibition

in there lives.

My parents sold

me away,

too ashamed and

greedy for money 

to keep me.

They don't care about me.

To them,

I'm

only

a

monster.

I read a book about the life of a circus performer, but not the ones with the Big Top. No, these were exhibitions of "freaky" and "abnormal" humans and other strange things that people paid to go see. They would gawk and gape, not thinking about what the "freaks" think. I was listening to a song called, "Circus Monster," and this poem was born.

What Is Love?

What is love?

It's more then just

an emotion,

word

or a chemical reaction.

It's not something that can be

scientifically explained

or proved.

It's not a single

feeling,

but a combination

of bliss

and pain.

It's an endless list

of words

wrapped into

one syllable,

so full of meaning

that no person

can fully

comprehend. 

Falling And Flying

It's strange how

for a moment,

falling feels

like flying.

How we confuse

which direction

is up

and confuse the ground 

for the sky.

That we don't know

we're descending

until it's too late

and we hit

land

instead of 

air.

I was listening to a song called "Falling and Flying" from the movie Crazy Heart, and I love the chorus line: "Funny how falling feels like flying, for a little while." 

Hope

The slightest ray

of light

shining on this 

deep pit 

of doom and 

despair,

lightening the hearts

of those trapped

inside.

The smallest glimmer of 

a better world

and future

hidden beneath

the grime and filth

of humankind's

mistakes

and cruelty.

We have to keep

reaching towards that 

ray of light

and grab on,

turning the impossible

to reality.

We have to clean off

the dirt

that stands in the way

of a better life;

we have to work

hard to get

what we desperately need.

Find that

piece of hope

inside our hearts

and apply it

to our world.

Change

Change is 

inevitable,

from second to second,

minute to minute,

something alters,

whether it's

time or 

people.

Seasons switch and

transform,

with subtle differences 

each time;

much like humans 

mature and grow

every moment

of our lives.

Without change,

we would be stuck

forever;

still born

in a cocoon,

never able to stretch wings

and fly. 

Musical Isolation

I place the headphones

over my ears,

immersing myself

in a world 

of harmony

and lyrics.

I listen,

head bobbing along,

with the notes

dancing across

my mind,

carrying my mood

with it.

Songs fly by, 

one by one,

merging into one

long piece of music.

I get lost

in a universe of music,

where the lives and thoughts

of others play out

in my head;

losing track of time quickly.

Isolating myself from

everybody else,

I close my eyes

and savour

this moment to myself.

Spark

A spark

of inspiration starts

a voracious fire 

of words;

fingers dancing over 

the keyboard.

A chapter woven

of conflict

and despair,

with the slightest glimmer

of hope 

hidden.

Character's thoughts

and feelings

merge with mine,

transforming them

into reality.

Minutes feel like

seconds

as I plan and plot

the story

that has become a 

personal project.

But inevitably,

all ferocious fires come

to a quick end,

and I'm left

with a blank mind

and a new part

of a story.

Inspiration comes at the strangest of times, whether it's in the middle of a lesson in class or while out shopping for groceries. With me, I try to remember my ideas and run onto the computer to write down a new chapter to Puppetmaster, or a poem.