Ravens On My Writing Desk

If I could write something, so eye opening as waking up to the sun,

I would be happy.

Whether it meant uncovering something for someone else,

Or even finding my own way out of this darkness.

But alas, I cannot write.

Perhaps at all.

My mind just becomes words on paper,

Written in a flurry of tangled fingers and obscured thoughts.

I can never say what I mean,

Verbally

Or otherwise.

My mind races to fast for my tongue or my fingers to keep up,

And that beautiful thought I had mere seconds ago is gone

When does someone become a writer?

Is it when their first piece is published?

Or their soul becomes so old and one with the words that

They just are.

Does the writer write the words? Or

Do the words write the writer?

Do we fabricate the poetry and writing ourselves,

Or do we just channel their magnificence?

All the words, the feelings, bottled up in my chest.

Heaving. Aching. Collapsing within and crushing my heart

Until it explodes and pushes everything into my head.

(Oh how I wish it literally would explode.)

Then all these pent up feelings, the useful, the abused, the uncertainty

Flutter around in my mind like a murder.

I find beauty in their blackness, and the shimmering of their feathers.

But their talons and beaks tear into my soul,

Leaving gaps that may never fully heal.

And the worst part is, all the wounds came from myself…

From these feelings…

That I cannot write. Not for me. Not for anyone else.

I am not a writer.

I am a human with uncontrollable feelings.

 

The Last Chapter of the Relationship

It’s a dull pain – throbbing with every beat of the aching heart. I always feared that my breathing would shatter my heart, so I often found myself waiting on baited breath. But then I realized: you can’t break something already broken. This was it. It was all over.

Protected: Super-child

This content is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

Password:

The Eternal Threat of Nuclear Doom

Improbable fears are the worst fears of all – because its that small, inkling, of doubt that causes us so much grief. The what ifs, the maybes – lead us to put faith in things we may not have faith in otherwise. Over 7 billion people are forced to suffer from an improbable fear because the threat of nuclear warfare exists, and it would be the end of humanity as we know.

Cure for Teenagers

Every teenager wants to be the harbinger of society. The first to start a new trend, or catchphrase, or possibly eradicate the entire human race.

Some people would say that everyone is an artist, while others would say it’s a talent you’re born with. But what is this talent we all speak of – what exactly is it that sets one piece of work apart from another? And who are the people who deem we’re not good enough for something? Why are we constantly striving for their approval? When half the time we don’t even know who they are. How are these people able to dictate what kind of lives we lead?

Lack of Color

Not a part of NaPoWriMo, I had written this a while ago but decided to post it here. Just a simple reminder to see the forest for the trees – that there are finer things to life than just the big picture. That things aren’t just black and white, one extreme to the next. There are many, many shades of gray. And within those different shades, are all the things we’ve spent so long searching for. 

---

 

You say life looks better,

With a lack of color

When things are just black and white,

And nowhere in between

You say it’ll get much better,

But with this lack of color,

Everything around is

Deceiving me.

 

You say I’m upside down,

Cause I wear the inside out.

It’ll push you and everyone,

Away before you can see.

You say I’m in this life,

But can’t make it all alright.

Where is the hope in

the darkness for me to be?

 

Sometimes we think we’re more than words

Sometimes we’re more than what it seems.

But everything we’ve ever known,

All our family, friends and foes,

We’re all just parts of the spectrum,

like letters A to Z

 

-SJH

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly Outliers

So why is it that we’re so quick to defend a cause in theory – but not actuality? It’s not a new practice. The Internet gets up in arms about any social justice issues but still, we sit idly by. Stranger still, it’s today’s youth that are the ones avidly involved in the politics of human rights.

It is 2am, don’t hold me accountable to any errors. Strictly opinion.

The English Subject

Through the many years of school, I always excelled in math and science – granted I wasn’t bad at English or Language Arts either.

I just hated it.

I often blamed my distaste for the topic on the fact that my teachers often expressed the “anything is right as long as you back it up” attitude. When in actuality, it’s more of “Everything is correct. But, some answers are more correct than others.” And such a motto is too reminiscent of Animal Farm for my liking.

Late Night Writers Block

I used to feel like I could not stop the words racing through the forefront of my mind. Like thousands of bulls rampaging throughout a China shop, trying to get to a destination through a door the size of a nickel. Strange analogy.

The words came so quickly it was overwhelming. They were honest and raw. Powerful almost. But the most incredible thing was how free I felt after it. It was never intentional… The epic poems I would write in my head. And because they were without intention – they were always lost to darkness of my mind.

As of late, I often find it hard to write even within my head. Perhaps it’s born of circumstance – which is odd, seeing as what I write is usually the result of whatever life is throwing my way.

Don’t Be Afraid to Fall

NaPoWriMo Day 1 – April 1st 2014 / Attempt 2.0

 

Fall in love with a writer,

You’ll live forever in their words –

a chapter of their own story,

not just a line scrawled with passing.

 

Fall in love with a photographer,

You’ll learn to see yourself

in beautiful ways you never knew

existed until they flashed the camera.

 

Fall in love with an artist,

You’ll be the muse

that brings out the best of them

even if it’s from the worst of you.

 

Fall in love with a watch maker,

You’ll never have to worry about being cherished-

because they spend their lives trapped by time.

They know just how precious every moment is.

 

Fall in love with an athlete,

You’ll understand how your words,

Make them play a little harder and faster than yesterday.

They’ve found a motivation never to lose.

 

Fall in love with a cinephile,

You’ll be the star of everything they see.

Little pieces of you, your eyes, your hair,

Your quirks and jokes are a small piece of every film.

 

Fall in love with yourself,

You’re the only one who knows

The secrets holding your heart back-

The only thing holding yourself back, is you.

 

So fall in love, with love.

Whether it’s a writer, or an engineer,

a cynic, or a critic- you’ll learn

to love yourself in more ways than one.

 

-SJH