Friday, November 30, 2012

Underneath the stairs

It seems all I've really written this month is poems.....that's okay, I guess. Anyways, this one was written under my school stairs. I was sitting there after school waiting for someone to come pick me up....or not pick me up, which one was it? I do weird things every once in a while. They're fun though. I think different things.

Under the stairs
by me(whatever) 
11-29-12

Sunlight slants down through the school windows,
as I stop from the pace of my world,
and I watch people pass on their business,
towards destinations outside.
Underneath the stairs,
I have no business,
but here I am all the same,
with the perpendiculars.
Here are some other stuff I wrote down:

Mix-up

Cruelty is a sort of kindness,
and kindness a cruelty.
So with all these mix-ups,
which am I?
The people inside can't see me-
only the people outside.

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

A leaf

A Leaf
by me(whatever)
11-27-12

a leaf,
removed from the tree, and
blowing in the wind,
stops,
and floats,
to the ground.

some others settle there,
as companions.

They talk,
and feeling of simalirity,
all dream,
of putting down roots.

But the wind,
tugs on,
the leaf,
who is cast,
whichever which way,
into the sky

In the end,
was it Destiny?

Because a leaf,
is bound,
to leave?

Shoes

Shoes
by me(whatever)
11-27-12

Shoes show where you're going,
with their straps and colors.
Some people walk with their head to the ground,
watching for stumbles
And some people look about them,
determining their steps by others.
Some stare straight at their destination,
Though lose the scenery around them,
And some few stare at the sky,
stumbling as they walk.

Some pairs have stopped,
and having been removed by fingers of flesh,
lay in wait for another.
And some shoes have been cast away,
used and abandoned.
Some walk on, even with holes in their soles.

Yet, the pair that is waiting
underneath the umbrella tree,
is of the observer
whom I feel familiar.

Monday, November 26, 2012

Horizon

By me(whatever)
*click here to read more about it

Slightly pink horizon,
announces the suns arrival.
The stars,
a full knowledge of their fate,
continue shining.

Thursday, November 22, 2012

Shadow

Shadow
by me(whatever)
to Disillusion by Tainaka Sachi

I had a dream like a shadow,
screams echoing through the darkness.
if even your memories are abandoned,
Return to the past

The shatters of your reflection
Cut to the very essence of your soul
The hand that grabbed for you,
Will you let it fall?

The voice disappeared from misty lips,
and silence fell over as snow
This time I will search through the forest,
for your nostalgic smile

If the stars keep sparkling like this,
I will believe in silver over gold.
Because the mirror shards you wore over your body,
will only slice you to pieces

Your memory is before your heart,
so you decided to never, ever forget
Even if the eyes dissolve in water,
please wait for me, because I am there.

The ice moon will only turn you to dust,
freezing the crumbles of your thoughts
A temporary fix, but if you take my hand
I'll unravel the future

So retell your wishes to the sky,
and even snow will cry it
The wind is moving along the glacier,
To find where you are.

Clouds

The truth is, I don't think that true happiness exists while we are alive.
but I think that if we humans are able to not only live with our pain, our sadness,
that if we can find a way to get past the boundary,
to fly past our gray skies,
Then we will be able to find something out there

and that something will definitely be valuable.

And I want my colors to always be there
so that even when the sky is crying tears,
I want to look up 
and see that even gray is beautiful.

I want to be sure that life is not meaningless,
that my something is not only layers of blue,
 But I'm sure that even if that is what it is,
then it will come out lighter on the opposite side,
and I will eventually be able to see something,
Perhaps,
a clear blue sky?

Saturday, November 17, 2012

If I could Become the Rain

If I could Become the Rain
by me(whatever)

I love the rain.
When it falls,
I listen to the melody.
The clouds stop by,
and shed their grace on every surface
the sidewalk, the newspaper stand, the spinning umbrella's,
the leaves of acceptance, and dripping down, gently,
on your face.

If I could become the rain,
perhaps I could meet you again
caressing your cheek as you look up with those
beautiful eyes
Would you listen to my song?
My voice is distanced,
but can it reach your ears?
Please......

In diagonal lines,
rushing down like running silver
I know you love vibrant color,
but will you enjoy my gray?
This is my own selfish wish, but
Please don't just wait for the sun

I don't mind
if you avoid my puddles,
I don't mind.
If I fade away with this brief time,
If you avoid my cold touch,
If the umbrella's stop spinning,
I only want
to cover the world
In my affection for you.

So,
it's okay
if you only want me to pass away,
But, if you want,
I am there for you to sing and dance.
I will dance with you,
I will sing for you
With the streaks of light peeping through,
your figure illuminates with the sky
My only wish,
My only hope,
If my voice will reach you;
I love you. 

 

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Lost

Lost
by me(whatever)
to Zombie Loan soundtrack 1-main theme

Despite previous engagements,
we begin a conversation.

Is that yellow ribbon you're wearing,
truly a message to yourself?
So everything really is boring

And socializing is tiring,
I yawn to send a message.
But you keep talking
as though the curtain is drawing.

The fairy tales are closing and slowly dying,
the ones that were locked inside my head.
As you start crying and shouting,
I can only hear you distantly,
far-away.

I'm following the butterfly outside my window,
covering the scarlet bleeding moon,
you start singing a song
or is that my imagination?
The crimson verses
echoing throughout the air

"Ignorance is bliss",
they say, not hearing the consequences
I don't wish to be a fool,
Nor do I wish to be wise.
But little things make sense,
and the large ones leave me lying on the frozen ground,
so is it that already? Again?

I've been insane once,
So I can lie, and understand
Once you scream
The clover will rip in half,
and the wings will fail
and I will be left, only pretending I'm not listening
not on hand.
the right.

The night is enveloping the end,
She is what I have chosen
Never resting, locked words
disjoint the blood ribbon from your wrist
your voice is lost.


Sunday, November 11, 2012

Jack London



*A research paper I wrote for my Evil English teacher. Even though I'm older....Well, I really liked reading about Jack London's life, so I guess I can forgive her.

Jack London Research paper
                When I first thought of Jack London, the titles of the books White Fang and The Call of the Wild came to mind. These were the books that I had read from him, after all. However, I had no idea of who this man was or what his lifetime was like. Yes, I chose to research him simply because I recognized his name, nothing more. But once I started to read about this strange, rambunctious author, I became engrossed in his tale. No doubt, his life is the most interesting story he weaved; not from paper or ink, but from his living breath and traveling feet. Jack London holds possibly the most interesting biography I have ever known.
                “Jack London was born January 12, 1876 at 615 Third Street, San Francisco, California. His parents were William Henry Chaney and Flora Wellman. However, W. H. Chaney left Flora after she got pregnant, and Jack never knew he was actually his biological father until he was twenty. Flora was also a strange mother, unfortunately obtaining Typhoid fever when she was young, which, along with weakening her physically, could’ve also changed her mentally. Flora married John London in September 1876, a widow who had had (because of financial difficulties) to scatter most of his previous children around. Because Flora could not nurse, she made an agreement with Jennie Prentiss, an ex-African American slave from Tennessee who had her child just die, to nurse him for her” (Jack London A Biography 1-4). Already we can see the family he is born into. It is a very poor family who mostly obtained money from ranching and farming, and a few piano lessons and séances here and there by Flora.
                When Jack London “graduated Cole Grammar school at 8’Th grade, he was immediately thrusted with different jobs to help; some canning and newspaper running mixed in with some other things” (13, 17). Because of their farming business, they would have to move plenty of times, though mostly in Oakland. Jack London, whose real name had changed from John Griffith Chaney to John Griffith London, spent his boy years reading like a devil, borrowing from Oakland Public Library. He remembers his boy years as boring, and therefore, his true adventure begins as a teen.
                His first adventure was sailing. Borrowing his father’s skiff, he went out to the bay and learned by watching and doing. He would love sailing for the rest of his life. “Using Jennie Prentiss’s money, he bought the Razzle Dazzle and became an oyster pirate” (21). An oyster pirate, as you can imagine, does not steal treasure and cursed gold, but oysters belonging to different companies. They later sell them and earn money that way. Jack London and his crew were successful at it, but in the end there was a fire on his ship that destroyed the mainsail, making the boat completely useless. So he got a new job as part of the Fish Patrol, ironically the nemesis of the oyster pirates. A while later he joined the “Road-kids” – kids illegally jumping trains- and earned the Monica “Sailor kid” or “Frisco Jack”. He traveled this way for a while before going back home and “joining the Sophia Sutherland, a ship that went out far to harvest the hides of seals” (28). When he got home, he wrote about his seal-hunting experience, and won a contest in the newspaper Morning Call for the most descriptive essay. He traveled with the Road-kids again, but eventually got thrown in the “Erie Country Penitentiary in New York for a month”( 1).  After his time, he went back home, and soon took off again after General Coxey’s Army of the Unemployed, a protesting group. But since he “Couldn’t stand starvation”, he quit the “army” and hopped some more trains to view the Niagara Falls, but got thrown in jail for another month at Buffalo, New York. “He started school again, going back to High school at age 19 in grade 9. He dropped out after one year, and after three months of vigorous studying, passed the exam into the University of California. However, he was only in the University for one semester because of financial problems” (51).
                “In 1897 Jack London went out once again after the Gold Rush in Klondike, Alaska. He didn’t earn a single penny, and went back to Oakland after obtaining Scurvy”(77). He found that his father, John London, had died. Now he had the responsibility of the entire family on his shoulders, as the son. He started writing. He mailed short stories to newspapers and magazines, at first only earning failure. But as he continued, he got a few successes here and there. “From 1899 and onwards, Jack spent mornings writing 1,000 to 1,500 words”(110) every day. It was in the 1900’s, at the turn of the century, that he finally got his stories and books selling.
                About Jack’s marital life, he married twice and had two daughters. His first wife was “Bessie Maddern, the lady with whom his two daughters, Joan and Bess (but mostly called Becky), were born” (125). Their marriage was not one based on ‘Love’, but on the concept that they would work together well. In this way, Jack divorced Bessie in “1905 (though he still paid them an allowance) and married Charmian Kittredge”(150), whom he was with for the rest of his life.
                Jack London was an outspoken Socialist, and “toured the country giving speeches about it” (147). He traveled constantly, and even went to Korea, trying to get scenery of the Russo-Japanese war. This one did not work out though, after punching a Japanese citizen, and getting jailed so that Theodore Roosevelt had to get involved to free him. He even planned a “7-year sailing trip in his own crafted boat The Snark, although construction did not go as planned, and the boat only managed to get them around Hawaii” (167). After that trip, Charmian and Jack settled down in “Sonoma Valley, California, “The valley of the Moon” (185).  With the fortune of his success, he built Wolf Mansion, but it burned down after catching fire. Living in other houses he built, he owned ranches, and even built a “pig palace”; an easy kept building for the pigs. In such a way, he enjoyed his money.
                Jacks Literary style was “Real”, a style meaning that he took from real life experiences and put them into his stories. His themes would mostly be his experiences with sailing, and the Gold Rush in Alaska. Most people thing of jack London as someone who has animals as the main character, but the truth is that out of his 50 or so books, only 4 have that as true. People may think this because his most major works were The Call of the Wild, and White Fang, both books having canines as the main character. Some of his books are offensive to the generation today because of their racist touch (common back then), and are now out of print. Another major work of his is The Seawolf, a story that features a young man forced into seal-hunting on a ship. Although Jack London did not receive very much money for the Call of the Wild, it, along with White Fang, are still being read in schools today.
                Jack had an alcohol addiction throughout his life, and even wrote a book about it called John Barleycorn. The first time he tasted alcohol was when he was five years old. In the end, it killed him. Jack London died on” November 22, 1916 from Uremia and other various weaknesses” (203). His kidneys gave out. He was only forty years old. While he was still alive, he believed in cremation. “Cremation is the only decent, right, sensible way of ridding the world of us when the world has ridden itself of us.” –Jack London (206) It is a good thing then, that after his death, he was cremated. I think he would have been satisfied.

Bibliography

Dyer, Daniel. Jack London- A Biography. New York: Scholastic Press, 1997. Print.

“Jack London. Biography.” Bio. True Story. A+E Television Networks, LLC. Web. 28 Oct. 2012.

“Jack London.” Biography Center. Biography Center. Web. 28 Oct. 2012

Tuesday, November 6, 2012

Starfish

Starfish
by me(Whatever)
 
My body is composed of limbs,
arms and arms, that's all
and a mouth contained in my stomach,
the center of my being.

I am named after wishes in the sky,
though no light shines in myself,
and though the mirror between reflects us,
I am alive.

No eyes to grasp the future,
and just crawling on the ground,
"Why are you lying down?"
"Why are you standing?"

I devour the creator of the pearl,
call me cruel, call me a monster,
I am a survivor,
still regenerating broken limbs.

Soon, though, the waves knock me ashore,
a sandy, dry outline,
and as my breathing fades, I realize
I should have never let go.

But a shadow suddenly covers me,
and I am lifted by a small hand
"Why are you lying down?" I'm asked,
and I'm cast into the air

I can breathe again, and if I can live like this
With the waves rushing over me,
My five limbs like those fingers,
Will I finally be able to stand?



Monday, November 5, 2012

Problems

My mouth hurts. It is a sad reality. I have one of those blasted tongue-sores, and my teeth hurt like they have cavities. Yes, Halloween is really, really, really bad for me. I must remember that next year. Something's wrong with my right foot, too, hah, I'm just a creation of problems. Whenever I get something annoying on my list, it's never by itself. Somehow problems like to cuddle up to each-other and socialize in big party balls. I get the small, pesky ones that like to dodge my solutions. At least a big problem you can corner down, no matter how vicious and teeth-baring it is. You either kill a big problem, or be killed. It's a simple thesis. On the other hand, small problems are ones that are the most annoying. They run away when you try to capture and crush them, like fleas. You have to continuously keep running after them, tripping over your own feet, never even managing to exterminate them in the end. You just keep suffering until they hop away on their own, probably attaching to some other poor beast or human. Of course, big problems are usually a combination of small little ones. When this happens, really, the best you can do is just run for your life and board a plane to somewhere far, far away like Japan. This is what I want to do. Unfortunately, some problems are amazingly persistent, and even when you have managed to avoid them once or twice, it comes flying at you, now a bigger beast than when you first saw it. Sometimes, it comes with several of its friends. You need some quick canons and bombs for those ones. But man, I just wish I wouldn't have to talk in front of the class tomorrow like this. School really is a cruelty.