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Cinco de Mayo was today. I was unable to celebrate due to the inordinate amount of work I had to complete. I took breaks though and wrote some good poetry that helped me stay calm and collected despite the panic of all my work. Here is one:
When I crawl, I feel small.
All around, things move slightly.
Imperceptibly trying to slight me.
Giant forms drab and gray.
Towering above in an endless sway.
Try to take note of my plight.
But my size makes me light.
Both in vision and in weight.
My speed is a most valuable trait.
That helps me as I concentrate.
Scuttling through the catacombs
Of the failed attempts before me.
Tombs of kings. Or are they thrones?
Perhaps both, beautiful and unsightly.
Forever I shrink, chasing perfection.
I see this goal as a faint reflection.
Akin to a minute conception.
Invisible to the naked eye. So I strive.
And I fail, reminding me I'm alive.
I fall down. I falter. And then I rise.
I am never willing to compromise.
Forever trying to reach that prize.
That may very well not be real.
But in spite of that, a theme most trite.
I pretend it to be absolute.
Because its something I can feel.
Against those immense beasts I fight.
Until I am covered with ash and soot.
Fulfilled, merely by my efforts
To find a means to an end.
It doesn't matter how much it hurts.
The goal has a strength that it lends.
Allowing me to crawl through it all.
To a finish that will always call.
Ever so distant. Ever so small.
I wrote this thinking in the perspective of an ant.
Here is another one:
Tiny mice in rags
With bare feet that drag
Barely surviving
Little cats in mud
Shirts splattered with blood
Conjointly riving
Small dogs on the streets
Look for food to eat
Forever striving
Fat pigs in splendor
Humanity's offenders
Careless and thriving
Wicked coyotes
Trailed by devotees
Always conniving
They all shout out
In a speeding car
With no one driving
I wrote that poem in regards to third world countries and their class disparities that are so prevalent.
Here is another: I warn whoever reads this that there is some strong language. This is because it is from the perspective of a frat boy douche and in art, it is ok to curse.
An Ode to Raging
Dude so this last night
I got so fucking drunk
The beer was natty light
And the toilet really stunk
Girl's asses were hanging out
I got with like 6 hotties
Or maybe 7, I lost count
And they all had nice bodies.
Fuck yeah high five bro
I party like no other
Getting nasty with all the hoes
With the help of all my brothers
Woke up this morning
With three girls next to me
Too bad cuddling isn't my thing
And I really have to go pee
I get up and stumble around
With a super gnarly headache.
Thankfully a toilet is found.
I hope the poo on the floor is fake.
My leg has some blood on it.
Must have gotten into a fight
When that dude gave me shit.
Now he's definitely not alright.
Raging hardcore man.
It's the fucking best.
Liquor and beer cans.
Dude.. You know the rest.
I am glad that I wrote these poems today. I have not written poetry in a long time, and doing so definitely calmed my mind. I forgot how therapeutic it is. It helped me study for the rest of the day and prepare for my two upcoming midterms on Tuesday.
When I crawl, I feel small.
All around, things move slightly.
Imperceptibly trying to slight me.
Giant forms drab and gray.
Towering above in an endless sway.
Try to take note of my plight.
But my size makes me light.
Both in vision and in weight.
My speed is a most valuable trait.
That helps me as I concentrate.
Scuttling through the catacombs
Of the failed attempts before me.
Tombs of kings. Or are they thrones?
Perhaps both, beautiful and unsightly.
Forever I shrink, chasing perfection.
I see this goal as a faint reflection.
Akin to a minute conception.
Invisible to the naked eye. So I strive.
And I fail, reminding me I'm alive.
I fall down. I falter. And then I rise.
I am never willing to compromise.
Forever trying to reach that prize.
That may very well not be real.
But in spite of that, a theme most trite.
I pretend it to be absolute.
Because its something I can feel.
Against those immense beasts I fight.
Until I am covered with ash and soot.
Fulfilled, merely by my efforts
To find a means to an end.
It doesn't matter how much it hurts.
The goal has a strength that it lends.
Allowing me to crawl through it all.
To a finish that will always call.
Ever so distant. Ever so small.
I wrote this thinking in the perspective of an ant.
Here is another one:
Tiny mice in rags
With bare feet that drag
Barely surviving
Little cats in mud
Shirts splattered with blood
Conjointly riving
Small dogs on the streets
Look for food to eat
Forever striving
Fat pigs in splendor
Humanity's offenders
Careless and thriving
Wicked coyotes
Trailed by devotees
Always conniving
They all shout out
In a speeding car
With no one driving
I wrote that poem in regards to third world countries and their class disparities that are so prevalent.
Here is another: I warn whoever reads this that there is some strong language. This is because it is from the perspective of a frat boy douche and in art, it is ok to curse.
An Ode to Raging
Dude so this last night
I got so fucking drunk
The beer was natty light
And the toilet really stunk
Girl's asses were hanging out
I got with like 6 hotties
Or maybe 7, I lost count
And they all had nice bodies.
Fuck yeah high five bro
I party like no other
Getting nasty with all the hoes
With the help of all my brothers
Woke up this morning
With three girls next to me
Too bad cuddling isn't my thing
And I really have to go pee
I get up and stumble around
With a super gnarly headache.
Thankfully a toilet is found.
I hope the poo on the floor is fake.
My leg has some blood on it.
Must have gotten into a fight
When that dude gave me shit.
Now he's definitely not alright.
Raging hardcore man.
It's the fucking best.
Liquor and beer cans.
Dude.. You know the rest.
I am glad that I wrote these poems today. I have not written poetry in a long time, and doing so definitely calmed my mind. I forgot how therapeutic it is. It helped me study for the rest of the day and prepare for my two upcoming midterms on Tuesday.
