September 29, 2014

In a world where everyone
tells us how to

I’m looking
for what makes me feel

September 29, 2014
I Know You Don’t Drink Coffee


I know you don’t
drink coffee

sometimes I imagine
cozied up on the couch
(you’re really cute
when you’re comfortable)
near the fireplace
watching your favorite movies

legs tangled
and hands wrapped around
(each other)
a mug
sipping slowly
savoring the moment

I know you don’t drink coffee

but everything that makes me feel
safe and warm
reminds me of

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Filed under: poetry 
September 28, 2014

It was the ninth of February,
he, she, and I
overlooking the city
in deep dark

Low growled replies
slipped lazily between us;
our eyes scanning
the expanse above.

Excitement and anticipation grew
in all our hearts that night.

Somewhere in between
ranting about tomorrow’s
math exam
and gossiping about
Stacy Peterson’s new haircut
she turned to me whilst he looked away,
whispered softly:

"I couldn’t imagine being here with
anyone else.”

And I felt my fingertips graze
the inbetweens of hers
for the very first time.

My heart skipped a beat
and the sky erupted in glow.

And as fast as it came,
our oohs and ahs
retained a bit of starlight
in its wake.

But I just turned into her hair
and remembered how she
smelled like how I imagined
space smelled sweetly vanilla
in this milky way.

And she laughed
and he turned, seeing me buried in myself
and her.

"Man, what were you thinking?!
You just missed something special!”
he scolded me.


Not really.

September 28, 2014

I don’t know when I got bored of clubs and parties.

I left early, took a cab home by myself, and then just listened to good music while I ate leftover pizza.

September 26, 2014

All too eager
to sign on
at the prospect
of success.

I can’t find
the goddamn
dotted line.

September 21, 2014
Writing to be Read vs. Writing to Write

Ultimately, the goal of writing is to transport the reader to a place other than their current mindset. Be it through the telling of a story or a plain laying out of the facts, writing disrupts the current thoughts of the reader in order to present a view. I’ve always believed that writing should be able to present a greater truth than what is normally sought out in everyday life, and thus the writer has an obligation to his/her readers to carefully construct an alternate perspective.

Writing is to take a snapshot of reality and frame it so that the facts present themselves. As writers, we take what we know; the scenes we’ve lived and the thoughts we’ve been gifted with and like a prepared meal, lay it out for our audience to be digested.

While surely there’s a case to be made that writing can be a medium for self-expression and can be used to allow a form of release for the writer, you aren’t given the choice of how people view your work. Every artist, every lyricist is member to a party of people that have been hurt, and we all want to write about how broken our hearts are and how much the world is failing us. But this in itself becomes a cross section of society as we know it; the reader sees us as a failed group of people alienated by the community we live in. And this in itself becomes a commentary on our own life and the people around us.

We can’t extricate ourselves from presenting the world as we see it if we choose to write. So as writers, we need to realize that there is no difference between writing to be read, and writing to write.

We all have a story to tell, and it’s our responsibility to tell it well.

September 21, 2014
On Musical Aspirations

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September 16, 2014
The “Moondog Auriga” Project

I said there were some possible projects incoming, yeah?

Over the weekend, I found myself a lot of free time, due to a lack of urgent deadlines, so I picked up my guitar and began writing for the first time in months.

It’s been a challenge. I think I’ve improved as a poet, but that’s mostly because I haven’t really stopped writing poetry since I started over 8 years ago. But I haven’t really done much work musically for at least a year or two now.

Currently, my goal is to write at least one song a month for the next year. And I need to be meticulous about my writing. I won’t settle for anything less than something I can be proud of.

I’ll keep this updated.

September 14, 2014
To Love A Dream

His spirit took flight
in the middle of the night
released by a dream
he kept so deep within.

If she could breathe air
and the air was not thin
would she know herself a dream,
a dream he kept within?

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September 14, 2014

How do you manage to keep singing about love in a world where everyone is lonely?

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