The Visions of an Idealistic Writer

Regrets (Written for a Friend)

2009-08-25T00:08:00.000-07:00

As seconds
pass to minutes...
pass to hours...
pass to days.

All I can remember is the smile on your face.

There he is,
my dad is dead.
my dad is dead.
MY DAD IS DEAD.

And for the first time ever I lose all feeling.

I remember
the things I did,
the things I said,
the things I left unsaid.

Now emotion devours me in my weak state of being.

Could I
have saved him,
have saved my father,
HAVE SAVED MY DAD.

The anger burns fiercely within me once again.

So I look
back to the past,
back to my time with him,
back to what I did.

All i want to do is tell my father I'm sorry.

Thus it ends.
His life has ended.
My guilt has reached its end.
And his memories shall never end.

I lay the things unsaid to rest, and let them not haunt my future, but remain as remnants of the past.

The Death of Art

2009-08-22T00:11:00.001-07:00

"I bid ado to this cruel world",
screamed the man with nothing to lose.
High upon the roof is where he stood.
His dominion was the glorious sky,
upon which his life would soon cease,
but also where his spirit would rise.

The man was sad, as sad as can be,
for the world knew him not,
and to him that meant everything.
He was an artist, the last of his kind.
As he stood on top of the world,
he looked back on his entire life.

In his early years, he knew not
the immense joys that came with art.
Born and raised in Tennessee,
he grew up in a home where his father
was a military man who loathed creativity.
So his art would not appear for awhile.

When he finally escaped the clutches
of those who had limited his growth,
his soul and his art began to explode.
With a immense passion he had never felt,
he became an artist who would soon
be the one to inspire the entire world.

He painted things so beautiful that they
invoked emotions in all who saw them.
His works brought life to the people,
and for that they put him on a pedestal.
Art was his reason to live, given to him
by those who loved his art so greatly.

As the years progressed, and he aged,
so did the society which once loved art.
They rejected him and all others like him,
for beauty in art was no longer appreciated.
Thus many artists soon turned to death,
for it was their only escape from this hell.

After all these years of being persecuted,
he was the last artist alive, and he knew it.
The rest of the world of course ignored
the final pleas of this artist scorned.
So as he jumped into the sky for the last time,
he waved to the world which let him die.

Children Without Food To Eat

2009-08-21T23:47:00.000-07:00

Blood, splattered on the the streets,
while pigs gorge themselves on treats.
The rats scavenge for something to eat
until they can no longer move their feet.

Damn these pigs, these filthy swine,
who take pleasure in the loss of lives.
They persecute the mice who always try
to find meager meals to keep them alive.

Thousands of mice lay tired, unable to breathe
as a result of the swines' great greed.
This hunger is the fruit born of our seeds,
for we gave them power, and their right to feed.

As every last drop of food is consumed,
more mice will starve, for death is the mood
in a society where leeches always rule,
and the weak will always be there food.

A History of Life for the Blind (True Darkness)

2009-08-21T23:43:00.001-07:00

Birth; It is defined as
the transition from
darkness into light
as a child opens
his pure eyes
to the world.

But for the newborn blind,
he enters this world
without his sight
and never knows
the warmth
of light.

Life; It is the transition
from birth to childhood.
Innocence becomes
adolescence and
youth turns to
adulthood.

But for the aging blind,
he can never notice
the effect of time
as his hair fades
from brown to
white.

Death; It is the loss of
life and also of light
as man closes his
eyes and gives
his final
goodbye.

But for the dying blind,
the transition from
darkness to light
does not exist,
so death comes
quietly.

More Than Just A Friend (Poem)

2009-08-19T16:14:00.000-07:00

When can I reveal my feelings of love for you?
How will you know that these feelings are true?
My heart ponders these questions as I see you again
And I keep wondering if we will be more then friends.
Yet my mind rejects these thoughts with a pain I can't comprehend.

Crying as I lay in bed at night dreaming of you,
Thoughts of us being together appear to be true.
I so desperately want to believe that my love will be returned
so I pray to God for you to feel the same as I do.
But, my soul denies my love, in order to avoid losing you.

Lovelessness Divine
Insanity of Plight
Decimation of Love
Pain from Rejection
Loss of Seeing You Again.
Fear of Losing a Friend.

They all lead me to one conclusions, so severe.
That if I try to love you, but you reject this love
my life will fall apart to ashes, scattered in the dust.
My soul will wander aimlessly in a gloomy, effortless daze.
And I will dream of you till my last breath leaves my cold body.

As day turns to night, and the sun casts its shadow on the world, my heart will always remember the girl I loved more then a friend, who let me fall into the ground, as I sink into the earth.

Society From An Outcast's View (Short Story)

2009-08-19T15:51:00.000-07:00

It was nighttime. The darkness would overtake him, and he would think terrible thoughts of anguish and of hate for the world that had made him an outcast. He had lost it: his mind, his soul, and everything else that had connected him to reality. The world was evil with no good left in it to counterbalance the sins of humanity. That was the only truth he could accept and the only thing that kept him going. He was determined to follow this path of pain and hatred until the world that had shunned him ceased to exist.

“Franklin, are you still awake”. A quiet voice came from the small opening in the door.

His mother could see the light emitting from the nightstand on his desk. Every night, for the past few months, he had gotten into the habit of staying up late. She couldn’t understand what he was doing up at so late an hour. All she saw was Franklin writing, with his arms tense and pace frantic. The sense of satisfaction that she had seen on his face was foreboding, almost unnatural. Yet she chose to ignore this. Nothing could taint the pure image of her son, which she had engraved so deeply into her heart. Nothing would be allowed to do so. Again, like every other night, his mother chose to close the door and head back to bed.

The morning had come, dispersing the thoughts and intentions, which had lingered. Franklin woke up at the same time he usually did and got dressed in the same way he had always dressed. Meticulously he made his bed, brushed his teeth, combed his hair, and then went down stairs for breakfast. His mother held a frying pan, and was listening to the morning radio. His dad read the newspaper, as he had always done, while gulping down a cup of coffee. Franklin wasn’t too hungry, so he grabbed a piece of toast and headed out the door. He didn’t bother to say goodbye to his parents. This would be the last time he would see them.

The bus had come on time. Franklin quickly boarded it and took his seat at the back. He wanted to be left alone to his thoughts. The bright sun shone through the window next to his seat, and he could feel its rays beating down upon his face. The light seemed to disorient him, and make him sink down further into his seat. Outside of the bus was the world he hated. A world filled with beauty and life that seemed to mock him at every glance. As Franklin's perseverance was about to reach its limit, the bus arrived at school.

As Franklin exited the bus, the school bell rang. He rushed toward his locker, shoved in his books, then headed towards class. The amount of time he spent to put his books in the locker had always made Franklin late for his classes. He had garnered a bad reputation with his homeroom teacher Mrs.Rutner because of this. She would take Franklin's tardiness as a direct challenge to her authority. And she never minded voicing her fustrations to him and the rest of classroom.

"Franklin, do you think you’re so important that you can come to class at any time you please?” said Mrs.Rutner in a most demeaning tone of voice. "Do you think that you, a failing student, can do whatever he wants in my classroom?”

Franklin didn't respond. He couldn't respond as he tried to control all the hatred boiling up inside of him.

"What a stupid kid you are. Are you so stupid that you can't comprehend what I am saying to you?"

Franklin continued to drown out her voice. He kept telling himself that this would be the last time he would have to deal with this. He closed his eyes, and let the darkness swallow him. Soon enough Franklin's mind completely shut out all thoughts about school. He allowed only one thought to linger in his mind. "Soon it will all be over", he thought. "Very soon".

After seeing any further attempts to humiliate Franklin would be to no avail, Mrs.Rutner quickly returned to her lecture.

The bell started ringing. All the students left their classrooms and headed to their next classes. Franklin went back to his locker to get the books for his next class. All of his classes seemed to finish earlier, as if time had sped up. He could not stop thinking about the peace awaiting him once he was done with school today. However, Franklin couldn't dwell on these thoughts for very long because lunch break had come.

Lunch break gave Franklin proof of the world he had come to despise. He would sit alone at the corner of the cafeteria, and he would stare at the different groups of people occupying the tables. From what he had seen in his days at school, Franklin had been able to establish a classification system.

These classes under which all people fell were: the leeches, the slaves, and the outcasts. The leeches were people in society who didn't contribute anything of value. To him these were the actors and athletes whose skills were worthless to the survival of the people. Franklin also considered the politicians to be in this class because the decisions they made had rarely been made with the interests of the regular people in mind. Next, in Franklin's class system, were the slaves? These were the workers, who were the pillars that held up the society. But slaves were a more suitable term because these workers were treated as trash by the world. Even though the slaves' work carried the world, the leeches would attain the wealth and the status. Finally was the class under which Franklin had placed himself. The outcasts were those who rebelled against the society because they had seen its flaws. All they wished for was change and reformation, but the leeches would always be their main obstacle, for greed rules this world.

Every time he stared at the tables, the separation of people into classes became evident. Franklin could already see people begin the development into their roles in society. In high school, the popular kids sitting with each other would become the future politicians that would continue feeding of the efforts of the slaves. The slaves would be the rest of the high school students who join the work force. And from what he could tell, he was the only outcast at his school. The bell rang once again. Lunch had ended, and all the kids rushed out. Franklin left as well, leaving behind the room that had shaped his outlook on the world.

The school day passed by quickly. Franklin persevered through his last two classes, then rushed for his locker. He shoved his backpack and the all the miscellaneous items he was carrying into his locker. The bus was supposed to pick him up at thirty minutes after school ended. But Franklin would not need to ride the bus today, for he was headed for a different destination. He walked down the sidewalk, and continued for another mile until he reached the bridge. The bridge was at least fifty feet above the water, and he instantly drifted toward the railings. But he wouldn't jump, for it was not the time to do so. He would need to wait another five minutes, for today was the anniversary of Charlie's death. Franklin wouldn't do anything until it was the right time.

As the five minutes passed, Franklin thought back to what had occurred a year ago. At that time in his life he had been one of the leeches. He was the typical jock, who dated the pretty cheerleader and garnered respect from the rest of the school. Even though he may have been popular, his brother Charlie had a mental handicap and was belittled by everyone because of it. Franklin was so caught up in his own life that he ignored the persecution that Charlie had endured. So when the news came that Charlie had killed himself out of despair from being picked on, it destroyed Franklin's world. He began to view things in a different light, and as a result he abandoned the ways of his old life. So now, a year later, Franklin went to the same railing where his brother left the world a year earlier.

The time had come, and with one last glance up to the sky, he leaned his back against the railing and plunged into the river below. As Franklin was falling through the sky, his mind was clear and he saw Charlie's face. He hit the water, and soon his vision went black as the world faded from his view.

A Moment, A Transition (Poem)

2009-08-19T15:50:00.000-07:00

Broken down by a shot

heard across the room,

Man shatters as he
hits the final barrier.

Crimson flood emerges out
of the breathless crater.
Glass shards scattered
in the endless chaos.

Intervals (Poem)

2009-08-19T15:36:00.000-07:00

Echoes of silence reflect
Off the gray pavement.
A reflection of what
Life has become.

Thunder roars across
the concrete jungle.
Stampedes fall down
Upon my head.

I feel life screaming out
in intervals of time.
Till darkness surrounds
the sound so still.

The Nature of Love (Poem)

2009-08-19T01:01:00.000-07:00

Its the feeling you get when everything else is dead
that purges your heart of all other emotions,
as you try to force those words to escape your lip.
Then the heart's palpitations become a tangible thing,
as each inch she comes closer to your body,
your heart beat continues to picks up its speed.
Her eyes are completely fixated on my own,
as if I am the only man in existence in this world,
and I stare as if she is the only girl I've ever known.
We embrace, and our hearts continue to race,
for the emotions now encompass our entire beings,
and feelings exist in us that can't be perceived.
One and the same, our feelings can interchange,
because their is no separation between our hearts,
for love has overcome us,and that is enough.

On A Cold Winter's Night (Poem)

2009-08-19T00:56:00.000-07:00

A single light shines on an empty street.
My body is trembling with fear.
I'm gasping to fill my lungs with air.
Turning my back to the black sky,
I wonder if he's only a few minutes behind.
He is a demonic spirit in a man's attire
who is after my life at this time.
I peer into the darkness, anticipating
the moment his eyes catch sight of me.
hope begins to take root in my heart.
What if he gave up the chase?
Maybe I'm free from this man's blood lust?
All these thoughts I soon clear away.
I must stay focused on escaping from him.
As it came time to begin my flight again,
my eye notices something in the distance.
A shadow of the demon appeared in the light.
It broke the plane for only an instant.
Yet I know he has finally arrived.
I begin to run erratically, consumed by fear,
Soon my weariness starts to take a toll on me.
Panting, sweating I start to slow down.
Finally I have no energy to go on.
As my exhausted body falls to the ground,
I can only wait in terror of what is to come.
A footstep can be heard in the distance
slowly approaching, lavishing every moment.
The demon has caught its weakened prey.
The last thing I see are his maroon eyes
as I ascend into the dark midnight sky.

The Lonely Child (Prose)

2009-08-19T00:43:00.000-07:00

A child cries out in the corner of her room, "why, oh why, am I alone?", yet no one can hear her plea. So she yells a little a louder and expects that something will happen. Yet again the response is silence, which drives the poor child crazy. Thus the child calls out for help with all her torment and misery. She screams at the top of her lungs, "Someone please save me", yet no one answers her plea. So she sinks back into her bed, and feels her emotions crush her, for their weight is unbearable. Slowly she stops breathing, and soon light escapes her gaze. In desperation she lets out a final whisper for someone to hear. She says, "Is anyone there who can help me?". As she slowly fades away, an answer arrives her. Her sight is returned to her, and she is blinded by a bright light. "I am here, and I am listening", says a voice out of the white expanse. And that is all the child ever wanted.

Before I start posting my works I would like to say

2009-08-19T00:41:00.000-07:00

The reason I've decided to make this blog is to let everyone be able to read the things I have written over the years. So without further ado, I'll post three poems in succession and hopefully you will take something from each of them.