I lied, one more.

One more poem. I just wrote it and thought it necessary to catalog this. Nothing else need be said.

Fleeting Expirations

The whispering

echoes of freshly dried

memories crushed

as easily as petals by

the stages of expectation,

sail windlessly forever

raised, rampant, ruined

the cigarette butts extinguished and

the car speeds away as

the typhoon overcomes the

fragile city whose broken glass

glistens with pale evil

reminders of fame and fortune

wrung out and dried like a

sponge and too many holes

so deep and cold

our armies huddle with

tattered blankets

waiting for the miracle that never came

and also the masterminds that

let their cunning catch up,

plated sparrows caged

in fairy tale prisons

easily avoidable,

easily invisible

with the cookie cutter rejects

and smiling faces of humanity

most of all

the greatest desires of the soul.

A vision

It's just so easy to stick a poem or two up here and call it a day. I look forward to poem posts. haha.
But today I have two poems. One, by an anonymous alum of JF, as she prefers to be known, and a really really excellent piece. Needs to be put out there and I couldn't help but do so myself privately. I claim no credit for her work, however, let us also make that clear. The second, something I wrote based off the first poem actually. Which is why I put both up here synonymously, just for compar-sies. You might be able to tell that at least the design of mine mirrors the other. But yes. Here they be.

"Platinum Stasis" by Anonymous Alum

the illusion of
dark, dismal, dull
is really rather pleasant in
the soft wash
of midnight rain
with the cool wind blowing
across the wide open plains
and the soft touch of silk with
monochromatic paintings
dancing across star-struck eyes as
members of the army
march down to war
against the whole world packed
folded and stuck
into a tiny little box then
pushed away into the
dark, dismal, dull
absorbed radiation
pulsing through cardiac veins
with the captain of the arterial seas
cultivating the growth of
things long gone and
things long forgotten
with the old norse myths
dusty in their wicker-basket corners
sitting with the rest of the world
cloaked in shades of gray


Just lovely. There is still so much I can't figure out and I have yet to discover the secret to this ability. I'm rather ashamed to put mine up after that. But here, is mine.

Cherry Glaze

The confidence that
comes with the
beat of a faraway drum
sings to us all in the
sweet dredges
of a crystal
morning or a
tangerine afternoon as
we skip down a sidewalk
licking our melting sugar cone
in the hot summer sun
and passing cars
with LED radios sound the
harmonies of our soulful
existence,
a call to raise our
head and glasses
for the victory we
achieve as our bodies pulse
swirl, turn,
the melodies of a foot tapping
memory only beginning and
the past of rumbling greys,
cubic figures, our
square lives a distant lingering,
an ancient geometric time,
now give way to the rush
of vibrants and citrus
molded by
the hands of children

See what I did there? Eh, pretty scattered and I still have captured that...extra something. You can tell it's lacking spirit. But, there it is and there I am.
And I'm out.

Ever Forward we shall flow, Sempre Avanti.

This weekend has just introduced me to a whole new kind of magic.
It was the weekend for All-Districts, which I finallllly made this year, and how sad I am to see what I've been missing these past few years.
I don't know what it was, but something about these slightly-more-than-24 hours showed me how I really should play oboe, how I should perform as a musician, how I should act as a person and achiever, and how to overcome my many adversities in this department to just enjoy the ride. You know what? I am hear to tell you that it REALLY is like a ride, like a roller coaster. Many people play, but not many do it right. I have never done it right. And I might have begun to see that this weekend.
I got a taste of "right," and all it takes is the simple but powerful courage to see past your mistakes and just do what you are told. Don't cut corners and don't be lazy, just play the music. And don't be afraid. Granted, the environment allowed a bit of room for error, but I think human correction and embarrassment gets in the way of art.

I absolutely loved the feeling, today especially at our culminating concert, of being completely immersed in the music. For perhaps the first time ever. Sure, I've certainly been able to get into the music and cry and be happ or excited about it, but everything is blurry from when we were onstage, I don't remember much except for the blur and swirl of melodies and color. We made many mistakes, but they didn't bother me, or maybe it was just because it was All-Districts. I was simply, happy. And free for a moment. I was independent and I could relax because I knew everyone else was just as capable.

I knew I liked our conductor. He inspired me. A lot.
This is the link to the song we performed of his. The band is quite good, "tasty" as he would say, but it just doesn't carry the same emotions I felt as I played this piece. Easy stuff, just a cute little grade 4, and perhaps even on hearing it, it could be deemed elementary. But the story behind it and the way he presented it and what he demanded of us made this an unforgettable experience.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nO-vdseS3jE

Give it up for Patrick Burns and his kind, inspiring, and often hilarious words.
God bless.

Make out like it never happened and that we were nothing.

Oreo cookies. Golden. That's what I'm going to do.

God bless the power of simplistic thinking. And just plain olds.

Blogs.
I think of tye dye and rainbows.

Life will be good. I believe it into existence.