White Space

Such a marvelous sight.

Space in which can be filled with imagination and creativity.

A joyous event where the mind can play and frolic.

That empty space where new lives can begin.

and journeys can commence.

That endless realm of thought,

Revealing new tales of heroes and villains.

This is the chance for the author—the creator

To tackle the mind’s original process of construction.

To build a new beginning

And end wherever it may go.

That marvelous sight of the white space of a sheet of paper.

It's a tough Process

So, I have recently been named the President of my college's Poetry Club. As excited as I was, I was more than happy to take up the position. I mean, hey, I had been the President of my highschool's poetry club. But little did I know what work was in store for me.

I knew there was some interest in the club, but I forgot to remember that it is hard to pull in those interested people for the simple fact that they are nervous. This happens to everyone when it comes to poetry. They are nervous about sharing their creative prowess and wait for someone else to take the lead. Well, that is what I'm going to do.

I have to get the word out about this club and show those students that they have nothing to be afraid. We should surround ourselves with constructive criticism as we workshop each other's work, and we should also maintain a level of fun and enjoyment. I have big plans for this group and I am willing to go through some turbulence to see them though.

Wish me luck, my Blogger pals!

2-year Haitus - What I'm Up To

Wow, I'm surprised that I'm back after so long. So . . . what brought me back? Well, I could say that I missed blogging, but that wouldn't be the entire truth. I came back because I wanted to find my passion in poetry and reflectional writing again. Therefore, the reason why I stopped blogging was because I didn't have to write poetry anymore. Now, how can I say such a thing? Someone was making me write poetry? Yes and no. It was required for a class, but I had already found my enjoyment in writing it. So when the class stopped, so did my ability to crank out the poetry. It was more like a catalyst, this class. I love poetry, I still do, but I couldn't find that drive anymore. I guess you can say my inspiration was low.

I did, however, found a new passion for short stories! During my break I began the new path of writing more prose pieces than poetry. And, hey, it's fun! I've gotten a lot done and I'm proud of myself. I've written about 5 to 6 new short fictions (they may not be completed) and found my strength in that. I'm taking these creative writing and novel writing courses and they are really helping flesh out my skills.

Aside from that, I'm really trying to keep up with my writing (this blog as an outlet) and see if I can expand myself. I hope I can gather new Followers; thank you to those who still are my Followers. I'll also try to post more often and get back into my poetry grove. You can expect some excerpts from my short stories and my thoughts on some topics. I mean, that's what a blog is for, right?

The Drive to Find Her

It occurred to me that I have a degree of bad luck when it comes to girls. On five separate occasions I've told a girl that I liked her, but she denied me. She gave me the "best friend" speech and left things at that. I always found myself gritting my teeth and kicking myself after it happened. Although, three out of the five are still my good friends, it's just one simple question that has been irking me:

Am I boyfriend material?

But what on earth is a boyfriend? Isn't he the guy you can turn to and tell him your troubles? Isn't he the guy that you can trust and count on? I mean, you can come talk to me and tell me your troubles, I'm a great listener. I'm trustworthy and accountable. So, why can't I be a boyfriend?

But don't get me wrong, I'm not whining or crying over it. I'm just analyzing it a bit. You know what I'm saying? For years I just could not find the answer to the question. I've even jotted down some good qualities about myself:

1. I'm a gentleman
2. I write poetry
3. I'm a good listener
4. I try my best to make a joke for someone to smile
5. I dress nicely.
6. Did I mention that I write poetry?

So what makes a boyfriend a boyfriend? Is it the drive? Do I have to post up a sign saying: "Girlfriend Needed"? I do have to admit that I'm shy, but not drastically. Once we find common interests with each other I'm sure we can hit if off.

Hm, maybe the girl is waiting for me. There's an idea. I should build on that, but who?

Burning Sin (Poem inspired from a song "Burn it All")

Let's rise from the ashes,
so life came begin again.
Let's open the door to our blacken hearts
and let the light wash in.

Unaccounted for, Unresolved,
terrible reasons that are Unforgiven.

Let's revolt
and fall together
We can try what we must,
but who can resist it anymore?
Because everything is evil,
and must be repented for.

Unexcused, unexplained,
wrongful choices that are unrestrained.

Say what you see,
but don't believe it.
Break the chains of normality
and you are then free.
Because no one is stopping you
from burning it all.

Tampered Heart

The newspaper came this morning.
It said: "Local Man...Heart Stolen."
The reports say that they couldn't find the thief.

But I bet it was you.

You sleep with the night, you travel with it.
You entered my life and made headlines.
Stripping me of my pride, robbing me of my passion

I know it was you.

Now I lay here, broken.
My ink faded from your lies.
My pages torn and thrown with the wind.

I just know it was you.

The Nightrunner Taxi Driver

He spoke to me in the quickest fashion.
Slang, curse words but with passion.
He told me he goes to work at 2 am.
There were nothing but crackheads and hoes till 5 am.
But here he is: Picking me up at 6:20 am.

He pulled up with one honk.
"Hempstead man?" he said.
Hempstead Man? Is he talking to me?
"You goin' to Hempstead?" he asked, much clearly.
Oh, yes. Hempstead.

Driving along he goes.
Onto his crackheads on hoes.
He told me that he was suppose to clock in at 5 am
Where his boss was waiting for him.
But here he is: Speeding down the turnpike.

He slammed on the gas.
"I'm kinda in a hurry no?" he said.
No? Is he serious?
"I'm late for my clock in." he lit his cigarette.
"I'm trying to fucking scrap up a few people before I go in."
Oh really? It's hard to tell.
"I work the night hours. Nothing but fucking bitches and pricks."
Cleaning up the streets are we?
"Like, what is this shit? 3 am in the fucking morning and you're sloshed out of your fucking mind!"
It happens.

We get to Hempstead.
5 minutes flat, no less than.
He told me he'll make one more round.
He told me to fuck his boss.
And there he is: Speeding out of the drop-off lane.

He's the Nightrunner.
Fuck the crackheads and hoes.
When will he stop?
No one knows.

Thank You

I just want to take the time to say "thank you" to those of you have read my blog. I mean, even if you were just browsing with the thought "Is this guy good enough to follow?" Thank you. It means a lot to know that I have people reading my work. Even if you don't like what I write, thank you for taking the time to skim through it. To the people who comment: Thank you. Your comments mean a lot and I take them into consideration to help me become a better writer.

Again, thanks for reading!

NaNoWrMo

Yeah gang! November is National Novel Writing Month. I'll be participating in it as well for the first time. It's where you write a 50,000 word novel in one month. It's most definately a challenge for me, but everyone needs a challenge. I encourage all writers to do so, because you can see what is your limit with length.

Wish me luck and thank you for reading my blog!

Cubist Interaction

Overlapping one another, these paintings describe a feeling.
A sharp, angular structure that depicts an emotion.
What does it mean? What does it do?
But rather what do you feel?
An interaction unlike any else. What do you feel?
Dim colors that trigger the mind.
Images to hard to picture. What can you see?
These are the questions you ask...
in the middle of your Cubist Interaction.

Mental Idleness

What brings me to this place?
This corner of my bare mind which holds needless questions?
These problematic scenarios that I cannot overcome.
Why must I feel this way?
Trapped. Cornered. Sick.
How can I make this go away?
So I can free myself from the shackles of regret.
Burdened by my own doubts and sin.
It's hard to know where too begin--
If there is a beginning...
Endless tracks of terrible reason,
but the ends can justify the means.
Let me resign in my own mental despair.
My own mental idleness.

T-Mobile

They said that I was 63 in the queue.
They thanked me for my patience.
They said an agent would be with me shortly.
They thanked me for my patience again.

They said I was 59 in the queue, the next available agent would answer my question.
Again, they thanked me for my patience.

T-Mobile...I'm running out of patience.

Choice vs. Fate

The struggle between the two can be devastating.

Do you believe in fate?
Is it a belief where some abstract, celestial object that plotted out the cords of your life? And you're just the electricity flowing through it nonstop, until it pulls the plug and it's light's out?

Do you believe in choice?
Is it a belief where YOU have the option to plant out the seeds of your life? And when you grow you have the time to change the color of faded leaves?

Is fate a trap?
Is it the predator that lurks in the darkness and waits for its time to strike?
Is it a complex compound that defeats the paths you've made and reveals you as senseless elements?

Is choice freedom?
Is it the wind that blows the leaves on your tree to new ideas and destinations?

Do you have the Choice to believe in fate?

Hardy and Jimmy: A Flash Fiction

Once upon a time, there lived two brother rocks. The eldest rock was Hardy. He was nice and big. With smooth textures, Hardy was the “good rock” of the family. He would always stay with the other rocks, helping them with channeling the rain water to the underground veins. His younger brother, Jimmy wasn’t like the other rocks. He was small and rough. He had sharp edges and no one wanted to sit next to him. But Jimmy didn’t care, he wanted to cause trouble. He wanted until the humans walked over the gravel and jump inside their shoe. His favorite spot to stay was near the toes. When he had bothered them long enough, they would tear off their shoes and toss him far.

One day, Jimmy and jumped into a sandal of a young girl. She was happily skipping to the playground. He was on his way to his favorite spot, but his timing was off. He landed in the middle of the sandal and she stepped on him.

“Ow!” she screamed. “I must have a rock in my sandal.” She knelt over and pulled off her sandal. Jimmy tried to move, but the girl saw him.

“No, please don’t throw me!” Jimmy cried, sarcastically.

“I’m not going to throw you.” the girl said, smiling devilishly. Jimmy felt concerned as she carried him to the playground. She walked over to the fountain and loamed over it.

“No! Don’t put me in there!” Jimmy cried. He heard stories of fellow rocks being thrown in here. Only to see who can make the biggest splash.

“This is payback.” the girl said, cradling Jimmy in her palm. Jimmy tried to roll off, but the girl kept him still. She brought her arm back and tossed Jimmy into the fountain. As Jimmy’s life flashed before his eyes, he noticed he had been a bad little rock. He realized why he was called “pebble”. Pebbles were the lowest of rocks.

Jimmy made a small splash and slowly sunk to the bottom. As he landed on the fountain surface, he can still see the girl looking over the fountain. He turned to see his fallen brothers. There were different shapes, sizes, and colors. He knew no one will come after him, no one came for these rocks. Jimmy thought about his brother Hardy. I wished he could have been like him. Big, well rounded and good. He just remained motionlessly, like a good rock should.

When Life hands you Lemons

When Life hands you lemons,

Don't take them sitting down...

Get up, stretch a little, and SHOVE IT IN LIFE'S FACE!!

'Cause, you have better things to do than to make lemonade!

Something I wrote for September 11th

I remember that fateful day,
Looking around my lunchroom, confused and nothing to say.
In matter of fact, we all were.
Mouths agape and our wits a blur.
Why did this happen? Or rather, how could it?
We tried to make sense, but the details would not fit.

I remember going make home and running to my terrace.
26th floor, people crying, people sighing, the hurt was relentless.
I stood there in shock, as I watched the deep black smoke fill the air.
I could see it clearly, but the smoke was everywhere.
Preventing me from coming to a conclusion,
Filling our heads with confusion.

I remember the fire trucks rushing down the street,
they came quick, fast as a heartbeat.
And I hoped they made it on time,
Uptown to Downtown, that's one heck of a ride.

I remember the people praying.
I remember the people hugging.
I remember what the news was saying.
I remember the people running.

But we as a whole have to remember: Be strong.
Despite who was down there, they were all covered with the same dust.
The dust of pain, the dust of sorrow, and the dust of strength.
Let's not forget the people who rushed down there and helped out.
It's was beyond the job, some felt it was a natural duty.

I remember the people praying.
I remember the people hugging.
I remember what the news was saying.
I remember the people running.

We all remember September 11th.

Why the Critics?

It seems to me that every time I give my opinions on life and how I feel, I get heavily criticized for it. Like, why? Why must you open fire at me because you can't stand the way I view the world? Everyone has there own takes on life? I have my opinion and you have yours. You don't have to like mine, because I don't like yours.

Just a small rant. I could go on with the specifics but I'll only hurt my keyboard.

Preparations for the Freaky

I've been given the task to become...one of them.
The ones who talk to themselves,
The ones who stare at their respective corners.
The ones who look at you with flaring intensity.
The ones who are...Freaky.

They can drill a hole in any inner wall.
No matter your mentally capacity, they tend to fill every inch of discomfort.

The ones who would streak without a second thought.
The ones who talk about bodies falling apart.
The Freaky. The Weird.
...
....
I have been...given that task.

Capacity Decreased

Muffled screams,
Shriveled moans.
Thoughts obliterated
Into a cloud of nothingness.

Patience cracked,
Time frozen still.
My very essence tortured
Throughout the void.

Silenced cries,
Muted sighs.
The inner me caged
With its own confusion

Improving Your Writing Skills..While Depending on Yourself

We all can turn to writing guides and experts to improve our writing. That is a good thing, I have done that myself. So, what if you didn't have those resources? You have to fend for yourself right? Well, I came up with some tips that can help you. First I would like to give a scenario: You have completed writing your first novel. You have done all the editing you could and you feel confident in it. You ship it off to a publishing company and they reject you. What then?

Tip #1: Don't cry.

Your first rejection isn't the end of your writing career. You get up and try again. There has got to be something that you've missed, OR, the company simple wasn't accepting your type of genre. The sadness and pain that you feel on your first rejection should be used for good. Adversity.

Tip #2: Allow yourself to accept criticism.

After you have soaked in your first rejection, let's call them boogies, you should sit down and look over your work. It may look good in your eye, but what about others. [Note: There are some people who say don't worry about what other people think, your story is good either way. I tend to stray away from that saying. I write for people to read and like, but if they don't like it, my story wasn't good.] Have your work read over by someone more experienced than you, or even some friends. Get their feedback and choose whether to take it into consideration. There are people who will give you harsh criticism, but don't wreck yourself over that. Take their criticism apart and pick out the bits that you need. We all have egos and self-esteem faults, but be open-minded.

After you have gotten some feedback, think to yourself: How can I use this? Some might have said that your punctuation was wrong, other might have said to watch your grammar. Those small little things can get you and I, myself, have been guilty of that.

Tip #3: Don't change the way you speak. Your style.

You are your own author. We all have different ways of conveying characters and presenting plots. To preserve your own soul, you must not change your tone or style. Running mainstream, or copying some other author's tone is just unnecessary. Be yourself, not Stephanie Meyer or James Patterson.

Well, I'm actually fresh out of tips. Haha, only three right? If you have any more, I would gladly add it to the list. Thanks for reading!

The Way We Think

It seems to me that...certain individiuals have a problem about how I think. They each say that I think "too much". At first it didn't bother me, but then they asked for my opinion the second time and critized me again. Is there something wrong with the way I think? So, they "test" me on it. They ask this question: "A cat is chasing a squirrel and the squirrel runs up a tree. What does the cat do next?" So, I thought about it and answered, "Well, there are a few things the cat can do at that point." Quickly after that, they all start laughing and cry, "It's common sense." "The cat chases the squirrel up the tree!"

Well, last time I checked, cats don't chase squirrels. Second, not all cats will chase the squirrel up the tree. What if the cat decided to turn around and do something else. Or maybe the cat decided to sit there and wait for the squirrel to come down. There other possiblities. But they insisted that there was only one solution and I was stupid and had no common sense. It angered me, but I kept it inside.

Maybe I do take my thoughts to a higher level, don't critize me that you can't think on my level. All I'm saying is: We each think differently and there are more than one solution to problems.

The Art that I Took Up

Recently, I started to do something that I thought I wouldn't do. You know, I didn't do much in high school, instead become a "nerd" to the people's eyes. I wanted to make a name for myself in college now. But how can I do that? I'm shy and have no idea what the people would think of me. "But it's college, no one will pay attention to you like that." I said to myself. So, I agreed and continued to plan on how to make a name for myself.

So, one day, while in my Creative Studies class, I agreed with my professor to do something spontaneous and free. "This is the perfect time." I said to myself, once again. And to my great expense, the school's Halloween party was coming up and I wanted to be Westley Snipes in Blade. So, I searched the internet and looked up the design he had in his hair. I found it and wondered who can put it on my head. So I strolled over to my barber and he said he'll try it out. Little did I know that he will become my "hair artist". This was the result:



You can't see the Blade design, but the star my barber added for his own touch. Here are some others that I have gotten:





I like this, Hair Art. I get some welcomed attention and people like seeing this. A smile when little kids on the bus point and say "Look mommy!"

Never inspired by my trip to New Orleans

Never by Travis G. Williams

Never would I have imagined,
To be in a place stricken by horror.
To be on a foundation that was once someone’s shelter.
To be on someone’s porch, a place for their comfortable afternoons.
Never would I have imagined,
To be in a place haunted by water.
To be in a home that was ruined: paint to sheet rock.
To be on a roof that was someone’s last resort of safety.
Now, I was given the chance to give back.
I put my heart into that chance.
I’ve given it my all.
It was the first time I was able to say: “Fatigue is a good thing”.
I was able to sweat for someone…
Able to cry for someone…
Able to feel for someone…
Able to help someone.

Within the Counteract

So this is what has become of you?
You've lost your freedom and your innocence.
Caged within his wicked grasp, nowhere to run.
How long did it take for you to be held captive?
Did you fight with all your heart? As if your life depended on it?

Now insanity crashes through.
Hitting your weakened mind with unmentionable pain.
Can you withstand the torture?
Can you breathe through its thick intoxication?
No, you can't. Because it's too late.

So this is what had become of me...
I've lost all my feelings and love for you.
Caged within my own anger and foolishness.
How long did it take me to come to this realization?
I've tried to fight it, but I lost in great depth.

Now loneliness shines through.
Burning my skin with undesirable attention.
Can I hold on to my affection for you?
Can I breathe in this sea of sorrow?
Yes, I can. Because I still love you.

Being a Gentleman, it has it's perks

I was at the store the other day and I opened the door for a middle aged woman. You know, I was being nice, I was being a gentleman. That's what I am. But as she passed through the opening she turned back and said, "I don't need you to open the door for me. I'm not crippled." The words crossed my mind pretty quickly, leaving me standing there with my mouth agape.

What did I do wrong?
Was she serious?
Wasn't I being nice?

I wasn't expecting that from her. Or anybody. But there I stood, trying to sort out those words that the woman had told me. I didn't get it, it confused me. But later, after I bought myself some Sun Chips and Arizona, I noticed that it could have been pride that made her say that. Too much pride in that case. But I will still be a gentleman to the best of my ability.

The Battle of the Decade

I swiftly ran past the limp bodies.
Covering my nose from the thick, black smoke around me.
I turn to see my greatest rival,
standing tall and firm, waiting for my arrival.
"So, it has come to this." I say.
"Yes, it has come down to this day."
"Must we fight? What can we resolve?"
"There's nothing to solve!"
I sigh heavily and draw my sword.
"You won't get anything from that, you have nothing to afford."
I stare him in the eye, I swore I would make it.
We clinch together, The Battle of the Decade

Russo's Fun Questionnaire

As my professor's former "guinea pig" I have succumbed to the pressure of blogging again. But who am I to complain? I like blogging. I have participated in a college program at Molloy called Whitman's Creative Studies. In this program, I have learned to express myself in more than one or two ways. I learned to enhance my writing skills and even learned how to take a good picture (despite my hate for it). But it was worth doing, time well spent. So in acceptance of this program, I will answer his 29 question questionnaire. (He should have made it 30, I mean come on; make it even. He's such an odd man.)

1. Describe yourself in three words.

Unassuming, Creative, Intelligent

2. What one thing about yourself that you like the most?

I like that I can express myself greatly in writing; i find it very comfortable.

3. What is one thing about yourself that you like least?

I don't like the fact that I'm extremely shy around girls. I mean, honestly, its the opposite sex. Don't get me wrong, I want to be married one day, but jeez!

4. What is your favorite color?

Red. Thank goodness he didn't ask me why.

5. What physical features of the opposite sex are you attracted to the most?

Hmmm, I will have to say the butt. Since I look down often, it's the first thing I see. But I'll be an ass if I judged a girl by her butt.

6. What is your favorite movie?

I'm going to cheat, b/c I like both of these movies equally: Shooter and the Matrix Trilogy.

7. What book are you currently reading?

I'm currently going over my novel. :) How egotistical of me.

8. What is your favorite curse word?

I rarely curse. But when I do cause of anger, I happen to utter "shit"

9. Do you have any piercings? Any tattoos?

Yes, one piercing. And I would want a tattoo soon.

10. If you could go any place right now, where would you go?

Hmmm, Africa. I need to learn more about my roots.

11. What is your favorite hangout?

The library. It's my second home.

12. What is your favorite song?

Got the Life by Korn

13. What is the worst thing you've ever bought or have been given?

The worst thing I've given was a pair of 99 cent earrings. How horrible and cheap of me.

14. What is one thing you always bring with you?

My ID card. My mom has always said, "You'll never know when the cops will stop you."

15. What is your favorite thing to eat? To drink?

My favorite food is pizza. My drink will be cold water.

16. Who do you think is the most beautiful woman in the world?

Wow, I would say it would be Carmen Electra.

17. Who do you think is the most handsome man in the world?

Since I'm comfortable with my sexuality I would say that Barack Obama is a very good looking man.

18. What is your hidden talent?

The top of my ear can push in like a button. Weird ain't it?

19. What is your dream job?

Sitting in my apartment working on my beloved novels.

20. Describe your ideal partner.

Straight, long or short black hair. Brown eyes. Very loving and caring. Forgiving in a my faults, as I shall be with her. She shall be smart and clever. Unassuming like me and trusting. There is a lot more, but how can I ever fulfill my darkest fantasies?

21. What are you afraid of?

To be honest, not having any children. But in retrospect, how far have I gone away from my shell?

22. Are you a optimist or a pessimist?

I'm an optimist.

23. What would you rather have: brains or beauty? (BE HONEST!)

I would have brains. I've been picked on about my "beauty" since I was small. My confidence had decreased and slowly increasing. But I think you must have the brains to think of a way to be "beautiful" in your own creative way.

24. Are you a giver or a taker? (BE HONEST AGAIN!)

I'm a giver. A BIG GIVER.

25. What turns you on in life? (Intellectually, emotionally, spiritually)

Intellectually: Books and learning from my past and others' past.
Emotionally: Seeing a girl loving who looks beyond the outside.
Spiritually: My dreams.

26. What turns you off in life?

IGNORANCE! BY THE GRACE OF HEAVENS I HATE THAT!

27. If your house caught on fire and you could only save one thing, what would it be? (NOTE: your family is already safe)

I would take my poetry. If anything that I can turn back to and smile, it would be my poetry.

28. If you could go back in time and change anything about your life, what would it be?

I would change the fact that I let words get to me. But, that would be pointless b/c it made me into who I am now.

29. If you could choose your own death, how would you go?

Reading a departing poem to my wife and kids, and family.

When the time comes

This is a need-to-know basis.
Whatever I have to say to you, will be thoroughly planned out.
Nothing too extraneous, nothing to worry your little mind over.
Just the things that you need to know.

((When the times comes, I'll finished this blog :) ))

When Was the Last Time I'd Said Sorry?

I've hurt you several times...
Didn't I?
You've cried several times...
Didn't you?
But I apologized..
Didn't I?

I can't remember the last time that I've uttered those two words.
Since way back when, I've been an insensitive fool.
Now, I'm paying the price with your isolation of me.
Cutting me off from the very source that I need.

I've hurt many times...
Didn't I?
And you've cried way too many times...
Haven't you?
But I apologized...
But when was the last time I'd said sorry?

Self Assessment

Hmmmm, how can I show to you my true self?
I mean the real me, Travis Gibson, myself.
What words can I wrap around your head?
To make you believe everything that I said.

Truly I can just write out my entire life, but that's not what I'm going to do. That's not what's going to happen in this blog. This blog right here, the one that you are reading now, I will be explaining my growth in my FLC class. And to be honest, I think I grew a good amount.

For one, I know how to take good pictures. Hell, all I've done in the past is point the camera and push the button in the corner. I really didn't care for the lighting and what have you. But in this class, I've learned that everything counts. Concept, lighting, background, whether or not you should use flash. All that stuff, I learned and will use for my future photography. I also learned that black and white photos are my best bet. Hey, color is great, but with a dark complexion such as myself, I come out weird. If I hadn't known that, do you know have many photos I would have messed up.

Second, I learned that there are various parts to yourself. The Literal, Relational, Shadow, and Fantastic Self. All four of these have been taught to me. And I've been given some helpful tools that can show those selves. I've been in touch with them at times. My Shadow Self in particular, I like. But I will try to show these parts of me to the best of my abilities.

Thirdly, I learned that, in college, there are many characters. Tell me if I'm wrong, but you can meet some great people. Conrad, you are that person. If I hadn't seen someone's vocabulary as great as yours, WOW, the dictionary would be by my side everyday.

But alas, here I am. Throughout the weeks of the course, I've learned many things. And I hope I can do it again. I had a great time in FLC.

The Shit that goes on the Bus

What ever happens on the bus, stays on the bus right? Hell no! Imma tell you what happened on the bus: There are two people. Two different arguments and one helpless student (that's me). What happened was, I came from a book discussion at the school. It was nice discussion, well anyways. I grab the N16 and transfer to the N6. On on this bus I hear one man yell out "That ain't what on the bible!" In confusion, I turn off my mp3 player and take a seat. A moment later a woman yells, "Just shut up! Can't you see we are all tired?" And I was like: "Damn, who she talking to?" Instantly the man earlier cries, "Why won't you shut up and get yourself a GED." Then I finally realized I walked into the middle of a heated argument.

For one, the woman looked like she was some sort of traveling agent. She had her rolling backpack, her duffel bag, the whole lot. And the guy looked like some regular consumer of the MTA. Secondly, these two people seemed like they were about to go at each others throats. But the thing about it was: they were plenty of seats separated from one another.

So the verbal battle goes on. I mean, these guys were dropping F-Bombs, shooting "Bitch" across the field. It was a total battlefield. On one corner, you had the guy yelling that the woman needs a GED. And you have the woman telling the man that she doesn't need anyone's help. And when you listen to these arguments, you're like, "These people need to look inside themselves more deeply."

Just to sum things up rather quickly. It goes to show you how words can carry out what the person is feeling on the inside. The woman really DID want someone's help and I bet that guy didn't have a high school education to begin with. Words have a lot of power and I for one knows that.

So take the time to think through what you are trying to get out. It might come out the wrong way.

Butter & Biscuits

I woke up one morning,
to the brilliant sunlight.
Feeling refreshed and alive,
I had a really good night.

I woke up one morning,
to the sound of my alarm clock.
Feeling aggravated and sore,
I had slept on my feathered rock.

I woke up one morning,
to the smell of my buttered biscuits.
Feeling hungry and delighted,
I couldn't wait to eat it!

Making History

Wow, I feel so good right now. My first time voting and the person I voted for won. Its

something every teenager should be excited about. Our first African American president? Years ago, it was uncalled for. And now, we can truly say that The U.S. is the place for opportunities. Barack Obama should be proud of himself. He's going to face many challenges and we as Americans have to help him.

Time is Running Out

Now, normally the clock wouldn't tick like this.
The sound pounding in my head, with disfunctional bliss.
Now, this isn't fragmented, but its broken up.
With annoying ticks and tocks--I had enough!
Now, normally it wouldn't go this fast,
The time is slipping away, into the deadly synchronized past.

Time is Running Out....
Is Running Out...
Running Out..

OUT OF TIME...

A Scary Short Story (The Introduction)

It must of been my nightmare that woke him up. He surely didn't have a pleasant one, he's sweating cold bullets here. Ulrick, is more than your average boy. Yes, more than normal.

He leans up in the bed and looks at his clock: It's blinking 12:00.
"Wow, the electricity just went out?" he asks himself. With a shrugged of his shoulders and shrewdly wipes the sweat off with his pajama sleeve. He lays back down and stares at the ceiling. The ceiling contains old stickers from his sister's past. She had past away two years prior and he sheepishly wanted to keep her room. He watched as his eyes went to the sticker of her favorite cartoon character, Yo-yo Bean. She was a chubby dinosaur with a huge yo-yo. His sister who always carry the stuffed figure of Yo-yo Bean. It irritated Ulrick, but that was his little sister's first friend. He smiled at the thought and moved on to the next sticker. It was halfway ripped and was glow-in-the-dark. He remembered it being his sister's airplane sticker. He had given it to her when they saw the movie "Mayday!" She didn't like that movie, but Ulrick forced her to watch it. That same night, he slapped the sticker on her ceiling and she tried her best to peel it off. It was a foolish attempt, therefore she was as short as his leg. But in a surprising leap, she managed to grab half of it with her nail.
"Wow, you can jump." Ulrick remembered saying.
"Shut up, you big loser!" his sister yelled back.

He smiled again and sighed. He loved his sister, loved her a lot. So much that he wished she was here right about now.

He blinked and turned at the clock again: It was still blinking 12:00.

It Just Kept Going & Going

"It didn't stop!
That motherfucker didn't stop!
I mean, BOOM, it just went!
Like a spec in the wind; just blew to another dimension!"

-A hunter talking to his buddy. (That deer didn't like bullets)

"I was like:
'What the fuck? Why won't it stop?'
I tried to restart the whole thing, but it didn't work.
I banged on it a couple of times but it kept on going!"

-A Ipod customer, explaining his story with his malfunctioning Ipod.

"Like, you know when your brain hurts?
And your like: 'Ow, why won't it stop?'
And it just keeps hurting?
All you have to do is take, like, this red pill.
I forget what's it called....
I think it's, like, Advil. And your brainache is, like, gone!"

-A girl (perhaps from Valley Stream, just joking!) talking to one of her friends.

"This staircase won't stop!
It feels like I'm in a nightmare.
Yeah, a nightmare where the Energizer bunny keeps chasing me.
It just keeps going and going!"

-Me, when I was walking down that endless staircase on the Brooklyn trip (Below)

Coming Across Insecurities (Truly Unfinished)

Have you ever wondered why you don't do certain things?
Have you ever thought about the reason why your heart jumps to your throat every time that certain situation comes around?

I have and I still don't know the exact reason. Now, I know that I'm a modest guy. I look around me and I see guys who can think on their feet about getting a woman of their choice. I guess you can see where this blog is heading toward.

I remember when I was small, every time when a girl would say hi to me I would hesitate before saying hi back. Why have I done that? As I got older, girls started to call me "ugly" and "blacker than charcoal" and what not. And it hurt, it hurt really badly. I mean, I felt like crawling into a ball and crying. And that's what they wanted I guess, and I fell for it. Those words kept coming at me, hitting me at every angle. Like rain pelting on someone who has no umbrella; I just drench. And with that wetness, I developed a cold, so-to-speak. This cold stayed with me until I got to junior high, and high school.

The same story, one in particular had me gasping for air. I was walking down the hall one day. I was heading toward my typing class. As I walked past this girl, I saw her turned her head. I mean, I saw it on the corner of my eye. And I heard her say, "He's grotesque." The word hit me hard, but it confused me. It confused me so much that I had to look it up. And when I read the definition I was like, "Damn, I'm that ugly?" And I knew it was low of me to say that about myself, but that's how I felt. And all these images of the people calling me those same horrible words came flooding back.

And all this had added up. I really couldn't compete with the harshness of those memories. One of my favorite bands, Disturbed, made song (Pain Redefined) that had a line saying: "Memories don't lie, you know better then, memories don't lie." And they don't, these memories inflicted true pain on me. It still hurts to this day.

I really can't go on with this blog, tears are falling from my eyes. Ha ha, the things I do to express myself, right?

Brooklyn Trip (Coming Soon)

THAT TRIP WAS F'ING AMAZING! DETAILS SOON!

My Favorite Things

This blog is late, but I wanted to show you guys some of my favorite things.

The 1st for presentation will be my 30GB Ipod. My God I love this thing. Only the coolest songs are able to go on here. My favorite bands like Korn, Disturbed, Papa Roach, and more are in this Ipod. I can't imagine what will happen if I lose this kid. And when the battery is dead--can't find my charger....WOW, a whole new story. But I also got some other stuff in there. Like my novels and things for school. So it's a music drive and flash drive. Some people didn't even know that you can use an Ipod as a flash drive.

The 2nd thing I would like to show you people are my ties. Now, my mom says that I dress very conservatively. She's right in a way. Most people ask me when I'm wearing a collar shirt and slacks, "Why are you dressing up?" I then look at myself and shake my head, "I'm not dressing up. This is what I like to wear." So far, I haven't worn a tie, but as the year progresses I will be wearing some of those flashy cloths for all to see.

The 3rd thing will be my earrings. And I know some people are like: "Wow, this kid is a girl!" But I must admit that my earrings mean something to me. They are a symbol of something deep, something that I would explain later in my blog. But I'll tell you that not everyone is self confident at times.

The 4th thing is the Webster's Dictionary. Wow, when I'm writing my novels I'm looking this book up and down. Whether it's to find a new word or to just pass the time. I find myself looking up words to make a new character in my novels. For example, I needed a name for a monster. Monsters are originally sinister, so I was looking for a sinister name. And I came across this:

Cacophonous: A harsh, metal grinding sound.

And I was like, "Wow, that's perfect." So I made a beast who's cry will paralyze everybody who hears it. And it can also destroy glass and bend metal. Pretty cool huh? So this is why the Webster's Book of Words is one of my favorite things.

5th on the list is one of my poetry books. Good Poems by Garrison Keillor was given to me by my Poetry Club adviser before I left my high school. For that, it means a lot to me. In this book they have poems from various poets like Emily Dickinson and Langston Hughes. They also have some from people I haven't heard of. To be honest, I haven't taken a in depth look at the book, but I will when I'm low on ideas. Hehehe, I'm such a theft.

Last but not least, my novels. I am fully dedicated to these books. I feel that I can finish them in a week's time, but I know that it will take a long time. My hope for the future is to become a great novelist and be loved by adoring fans. It sounds childish, but that what i hope for. I know will great supporters and myself included, I can become this novelist.

Well, here are my favorite things. I hoped you enjoyed! Comment me and share some of your favorite things!

The Shadow Zone (TO BE REVISED!)

My cry is justified by the thunder,
but will my name be remembered?

My wounds are caused by the words that rip constantly,
but will my legacy be remembered?

My sorrow is being swallowed by the lustful darkness,
but will my memories by remembered?

Throughout my tedious life, I have searched for these answers.
But I couldn't find any--not one answer.
I still search, I search until my heart gives way,
Until I can not continue any further.
Until the black pits of hell have frozen over, By God I will not stop!
And if I'm killed by the questions like a cancer,
I shall be buried with the sounds of the answer.
And in this earth that I called my home.
Devours my sacred light and become just a demonic shadow zone.

A Time Of

It was after she left,
It happened so fast: I didn't know what to do next.
I remember standing there, looking into those big eyes.
Motionless, petrified; staring in the face full of lies.
She told us it would be okay, not to worry.
Then why did she bring cops? That's another story.
She even brought my eldest sister,
Someone who's actions had already hit me like a twister.
She came in and took me away,
I was speechless, falling tears was all I had left to say.
She told us to pack;
But it nothing less than the clothes on our backs.
On four wheels we went;
to be subscribed to a new agent.
They took our picture to be put on a board.
For someone else to look at it. For someone else to afford.

All Along the Watchtower

I have been assigned to listen to Bob Dylan's version of All Along the Watchtower. And, I must admit, it was good. And I know my professor would say, "Of course it was good! It was more than good!" But, this must have been the first song of Bob Bylan's music that I can actually picture what he's saying. I heard he voice clearly and his harmonica did a good number on me.

But I took it a step further and I took a listen to Jimi Hendrix's version of this song. Now, one thing that I quickly noticed was that Hendrix's version was 4 minutes and Bob Dylan's was 2 minutes and a 1/2. A question came to mind: "Does it take a 1 and a 1/2 minute difference to make a equally great song?" Well, the only way to find out was listen to both about 3 times.

And so I did, and I came to a conclusion. Bob Dylan's version was much more effective. Unlike Hendrix, he didn't have a 30 to 40 second solo piece with his guitar. Any space that was filled between verses were mostly harmonica and some background guitarist. I also noticed that Hendrix took out some words and added some words. I guess that he wanted the song to match with his style of vocals.

In any case, I think Bob Dylan did a better job with All Along the Watchtower. And to fully respond to that, later in my blog, I will eventually write an identical poem to All Along the Watchtower. :) So stay tuned.

My Definiton of Being Foolish and Ignorant

Now, those who have read my Pivot Questionnaire know that I despise ignorance. I mean, I spit upon it, I would rip it apart if it was dimensionally possible. I just hate it. But let's be literal here for a moment and look to see what Webster has to say about these:

Foolish(iness): resulting from or showing a lack of sense; ill-considered; unwise: a foolish action, a foolish speech.

Ignorant(ance): the state or fact of being ignorant; lack of knowledge, learning, information

I agree with these meanings, it exactly how I feel about these. It's just that people who can be foolish can be ignorant at the same time. Or, even better, they are so foolish that it would be foolish NOT to call them ignorant. I mean, it burns me to see people who know that they are doing wrong, but they continue to do it. And they justify that they are right!

Foolishness is something that you can get away with.
People laugh, a cute little joke, nothing serious.
It can be taken lightheartedly, a foolish person is not dumb.
As long as you know it was playful; that it the rule of thumb.

But ignorance is an undertaking on a whole new level.
Something that turns me red; red as the devil.
Must we be swarmed with the painful setbacks?
They are being irrational, can't they see that?

Foolishness is manageable; it can be controlled.
Why can't ignorance be? That's what I want to know.
Foolishness versus ignorance; there is a clear difference.
There are other explanations, another inference.
So let's not destroy the world with senseless ramblings and unconsidered thoughts.
Foolishness and ignorance are two different things, that's what I'm talking about.

Belly of the Beast

I sat there and watched,

watched him strut around.

Like some cat, showing off.

But I showed him who's boss.

Let's take a trip. Let's go back to 2003. Back in my middle school, where my nightmares sleep and horrors awaken.

It was a rainy Friday afternoon and we all just came from our computer class. The transfer from the third floor hallway to the first floor was the worst trek I have ever been on. Kids running, cursing. Throwing things, cursing some more. It was like a zoo and I was just one of the few animals that contain themselves. Ha, there were few tamers in out school. They couldn't keep the beasts in check. So, on the way down the stairs, I'm talking to one of my few trusted friends about what I did on the computer. Suddenly, I look to my right and see two pairs of eyes on me; one of which is Jaaron Clark, my bully. I wasn't aware until my friend had nudged my with his elbow. As I looked, Jaaron said "Look at this nigga. What are those? Payless shoes?" I was shocked at first, but when I looked down, I was, in fact, wearing Payless shoes. And of course, some kids started to laugh. I managed to put a smiled on my face and continue down the stairs. I reached the bottom and then he says, "That shirt looks like he bought it from the thrift shop." A few laughs and I look at my shirt. It wasn't that bad: Just a few wrinkles. We walked through the double doors and Jaaron pushes me from behind. I fall to the floor and he says, "Payless shoes can't keep you standing can they?" I grunt a little as my friend helps me up. "You should say something once in a while." he tells me. I nod and say, "I'm working on it.

His shield is heavier than his own weight; so he drops it.

In the class, we all take our seats and the teacher hasn't come in yet. This was the perfect time for Jaaron to cut on me. So, a big shot that he is, he approaches me with a sly smirk. It was one of those "Yeah, I'm cool." kind of smirks. And he walks with a lean, a limp almost. In my head I'm thinking, "Who or what is this guy trying to impress?" But he manages to make some girls smile and giggle those girly giggles. I know most of them are "laughing at you" giggles. We made eye contact and he asks me, "Who dresses you, your mother?" I shake my head slowly and he laughs his ass off. "You're lying! Look at what you're wearing." He stand up and points to his clothing, "You should dress like me." He pulls up his shirt and says, "Check out the belt." I reluctantly look, it was a horrible belt to be honest. But I noticed something else about his mid section. The boxers! Yes, the boxers! They were stained with brown and ripped at the brim. This was my chance. So I said, "I rather not dress like you. I would to wash my butt often." And I didn't realize that I said it loud enough so that the class could hear. But in the background, I saw a dozen of heads turn and point at Jaaron. Seconds later, they busted out laughing. Shocked and confused, Jaaron looks around to see who they were laughing at. As soon as he realized he was being laughed at, he pulled down his shirt and glowered at me. Before he could say anything, the teacher walked in. "Yes, I got that bastard this time, he let his guard down. But it's not over." I told myself.

Ignorance is like a plague; it sickens you.

Midway through the class, there were still some giggles. I tried not to smile, trying not to soak in the temporary glory. My victory was far from my grasp. As the teacher was writing problems on the board, Jaaron was talking amongst his "goons". He was trying to call my attention by one of those "psst" things. It worked countless times on me and this moment was no different. I turned my head and looked at him. Instantly, (he timed this perfectly) he threw a paper ball at me. It said hello to my face, a direct greeting. I saw stars for a moment and put my head down quickly. "Hey, Ms. Feirstein, Travis is crying." Jaaron calls out. I can hear her turn around and I look up. Eyes burning and watery she asks, "Are you okay, Travis? Want to see the nurse?" I shook my head and wiped my eyes. She continued her lesson.

I was replaying my next course of action in my head. It wasn't perfect and it required Jaaron's move again. It was a game of chess and I was determined to win. Jaaron's next move had to be spoken. It couldn't be anything psychical, I refused to accept that. Then the teacher turns to the class and asks, "Does anyone have to go to the bathroom? This is going to take awhile." The class was silent and a few heads were shaken. But Jaaron said, "Travis should go and wipe his face. We don't want any babies in the class. You know, crying because they can't handle the problems." Ms. Feirstein didn't like the comment, but she knew Jaaron's comments were better off "not taken seriously". Instead of saying anything to him, she turns to me. In my head I say, "You actually want me to answer such an ignorant question? Woman, you should be shot!" I slowly shake my head and say, "No, I'm fine." Without a second to waste I add tersely, "Jaaron should go, he needs a little cleaning to do." As if a comedian had gave a performance, the entire class erupted in laughter. Jaaron's expression couldn't be anymore priceless than those blank faces. I gave a quick smile and turned to my books.

After class was over, and this is the final class, we all get up to hand up our homework. This is where we all pile up in front of the teacher's desk, a complete mess, and attempt to organize our work. This was the time where all the "I couldn't finish it", "It was too hard for me", and even "The dog ate my homework." were all uttered and said. I hated this time. I dreaded it.

I fall behind, failing to reach my homework in time. And I get up behind the massive crowd. I sighed heavily and snap my fingers, "Damn it, I have to wait." I mutter. Suddenly, I feel a great pain in my collar bone. I fall to a knee and look up and it was Jaaron. "You like to be smart? Don't you?" I tried to break free, but my determination was not to it's fullest.

Then, the moment where I lose control. The moment where I was no longer Travis. That moment came when he said, "You ugly black nigger! If you ever talk back to me, I'll smack the black off of you." The insult, or demand in his case, crept its way up my spine and into my brain. I had to process it, I had to think it over. "What did he just say?" I ask myself. Now anger was rising, I felt it boil. I get up and rip his hand from me. I mean, I clawed at him, like a lion trying to escape it's cage. I saw the sudden fear in his eyes and it was my turn to be the bigger of beasts. "SHUT THE FUCK UP! YOU IGNORANT ASSHOLE!" I yell. Immediately, heads turn and look at us. "I WISH YOU WOULD BURN IN HELL AND HAVE YOUR SOUL STABBED!" My eyes were red and I felt more powerful than a god. I aimlessly throw my arms around. Throwing books and desks at this kid. I mean, the books exploded on the floor and the desks crashed into each other. I managed to see that Jaaron was trying to escape, but two desks were firmly locked in front of him. He was trapped, it was checkmate for him. Game over.

Silence fell over us and Jaaron looked like he saw a ghost. It was the finale for his charade. Nobody moved, they just looked. Even my closest friends were shocked. The anger flowed through my veins and I turned around, without looking back. I walked out the classroom, knowing that I did the unthinkable. But it really didn't matter. That side of me had been waiting to come out for a long while. It rose from my gut, to my lungs, to my arms, to my mouth.

It came from the Belly of the Beast.

Building Up

I haven't written anything for a while now.
But get ready, I'm about to release a monstrous sound.
So loud that it will push you off your feet.
Be ready, for the Belly of The Beast.

The Mother of all Libraries

It amazes me,
how these yellow, bronze covered lights can
create such an atmosphere.

Overhead,
the wonderfully carved structures,
I don't want to get out of here.

The smell of old-fashioned books,
pages above imagination.
It's like living with dictionaries.

The old black ink,
pictures from years ago,
textures as rich as dairy.

Must I leave a place of natural solitude?
Such a room with devastating magnitude?
It feels like I was born here,
I am a son of the Mother Library.
If I can be anywhere else,
this is where you would find me.

If Love Was: A Poem Inspired by Lucy

If Love was a virus, when will I be infected?
If Love was a vaccine, when will I be injected?

If Love was the wind, when will I be blown away?
If Love was the string of words, what will I say?

If Love was with gravity, when will I fall down?
If Love was a store, what corner would it be around?

If Love was a diamond, how much would it cost?
If Love was a map, would it guide me when I'm lost?

I can say for sure what is Love is.
But I know it is a drug, a cure, a force, a saying.
It pulls you down, it surprises you, it's costly, and sometimes it deludes.

All I know is...that...I too, want to fall in Love.

I've Seen You Somwhere

Hey, you. Yes you! How has it been?
I think I know you; do you remember me from back then?
No, you say? Why, you haven't got an inkling?
"This person must be crazy!", that's what you're thinking.
But I assure you that I'm no lunatic.
Therefore I've seen you somewhere, I just know it!
But where? Where do I recall seeing you?
I can't place my finger on it, what shall I do?
Go away, you say? Leave you alone?
Well, if I do, this moment will leave chills in my bones.
Please, we must figure this out!
Please don't be alarmed, I know what I'm talking about.

A picture's coming to me now.
It's somewhere nice, not too profound.
It was a place, not too far from here.
Somewhere close, so don't you fear.
It was my dreams, pleasantly calm.
You were under those tall, green-lit palms.
Yes, I saw you there. Everyday!
When I closed my eyes, you wouldn't go away.
I don't want you to disappear.
No I don't want that, please stay near.

I've
Seen
You
Somewhere...

But where?

How Far Can a Gentleman Go?

Now, I can say without second guessing myself, that I am a Gentleman. A capitalize that because I feel strongly about Gentlemanliness. I believe that every woman in the world would want nothing short of a Gentleman. Right ladies?

So, on the the story. I was on the N6 bus today, just minding my own business. I was about 5 blocks into it until the bus stopped for about 5 individuals. These individuals were all females. Between the ages of 21 to 50. One was pretty old looking. They all pay their fare and stop right in front of me. I'm like: "Wow, I'm that popular?" Now, of course I was being witty about the situation. The real question is: Who should I get up for?

Now, to all my Gentleman out there. Answer this question:
Who would you give your seat to?
A) A young woman who looks like she's been walking a lot
B) A middle aged woman who looks like she's been walking a lot
C) A elderly woman who looks like she's been walking a lot
D) Just stay seated and keep your head down

Tricky question right? I mean, no room to squeeze by. These women looked like they just walked a marathon. And it wasn't even that hot today. Now, they weren't sweating profusely, they just had a few dabs on their shirts.

As I was looking up, I was like: "Hmmmm, which one? It would be rude to sit my bum, while these women stand." And to be honest, I really couldn't decide. I'm not going to tell you what happened, but I'll leave the question out there.

How Far Can A Gentleman Go?

Looking For Some Inspiration

Today, I was sitting down in front of my computer, wanting something to write. But I couldn't figure out what. I mean, I'm a writer, I should what to write. But this is where that inconvient diease called Writer's Block comes in. Damn, I hate and I rarely experience it.

But here I am, in front of my computer, thinking of what to write. I sigh repeatedly and shake my head in fustration. "I need some inspiration." I told myself. So with that, I get up. Pack my wallet, phone, body and mind, and walk outside.

I really don't know what I was looking for, but I knew I'll find something. So down the block I go and I stare up at the sky. The vast blue with the puffs of white stuff. The air smells great and the birds are chirping. I turn the corner and find my first in-depth thought for the day.

My Neighbor: Two Blocks Away From Me:
I've noticed that on every Sunday (the Sundays that I actually go out) she washes clothes. The smell of the Tide that she used fills me nose and it makes me smile. That great smell sweeps all over the block, enchanting the people with a delightful scent. I thanked her for that. Because who wants to smell bird crap that plauges the area before and after Sunday?

I walk further down the block and come to where the fork is by the Home Depot. That's where the second thought came to mind.

The NO PARKING ANY TIME Sign:
I wonder why people couldn't park here at any time. I mean, really. Not even for two seconds. You know, they can't stop to grab something in the back seat? It makes me wonder what will happen if a cop pulled someone over if they stopped for that amount of time...right in front of that sign. Hmmmm, I wonder.

I walk further down and come to my favorite gorcery store. I only have 5 dollars in my wallet and I spent it on these things:
-Three bags of 99cent Doritos
-Two cans of 99cent Arizona
I love this stuff. And that's when the third thing popped into my head.

OMG, I HAVE NO MONEY LEFT!
Now, I'm an adult. I'm not suppose to fritter away my money like a kid on parade. But I did, not thinking of the troubles that will follow. But I get paid on Wednesday, so I really don't care. It's my mom who's gonna ride my back till on end.

Well there you have it, I overcame my writer block!