December 30, early

Sad songs are so much better than happy ones

"The drugs don't work, they just make you worse
and I know I'll see your face again"

"Will I always feel this way?
So empty, so estranged
-
I've looked my demons in the eye
laid bare my chest, said do your best, destroy me
I've been to hell and back so many times
I must admit, you kind of bore me"

"But if you loved me
why'd you leave me?
Take my body
take my body
All I want is,
and all I need is
to find somebody
I'll find somebody
like you"

"Leave me out with the waste, this is not what I do
it's the wrong kind of place to be thinking of you
it's the wrong time for somebody new
it's the wrong time, and I've got no excuse
is that alright with you?

give my gun away when it's loaded
is that alright yeah
if you don't shoot it, how am I supposed to hold it
is that alright yeah"

"Just a small bump unborn
four months, then torn from life
maybe you were needed up there,
but we're still unaware as to why"

"I've figured out that joy is not in your arms
I know I'll always ache with an empty heart
I think it's time to run cause I'm seeing stars
I'm seeing starts, watch me fall apart"

"Some things we don't talk about
Rather do without
just hold the smile

falling in and out of love
ashamed and proud of
together all the while"

"Oh lord, here comes that sun again
that means another day
without you my friend
And it hurts me
to look in the mirror at myself
And it hurts even more
to have to be with somebody else
it's so hard to do
and so easy to say
but sometimes
sometimes
you just have to walk away"

"It seems so out of context 

in this gaudy apartment complex

the stranger with the door key,

explaining 'I'm just visiting'

I am finally seeing

That I was the one worth leaving

Well I was the one worth leaving"

December 29, early

Darkness and cold mix nicely because both are unwelcoming, and even though it wasn't that dark, and it wasn't that cold, my friend wasn't being friendly. I told her, and it pained me to say it, but who does that show more about? I messed up, and that's a habit, and to nearly be expected. But her? The one who used to pride herself on holiness, and acting like a Christian, simply letting go of my arm and walking away from me? What kind of friend is that? No friend at all? No, she's still a friend, but not a very good one.

Yet.

"The world is a broken place, and if you don't show that, you're lying." ~Señor Schemper

Showing the world that the world is a broken place comes all too easily. I've seen all the darkness I can want to see and yet showing that there is good doesn't come naturally. Writing about good is boring as hell too because who cares about the unicorn hopping over the fence from green grass into green grass? Now most stories talk about the unicorn going from brown grass to green grass, and that's okay, but something in me doesn't want to show the "redemptive qualities of life." Why is that? Have I never seen nor felt redemption in my life to the extent where I feel the need to evangelize on it? What kind of Christian does that make me? Does that mean I haven't fully accepted myself a sinner, or even worse, fully accepted grace? 

what

the 

fuck

December 28

28 or 27, or something

Here lies a found poem, constructed around 3:32 am and finished when he finished it, constructed also from the random thoughts deep within Isaac's mind:

thought 1: organizing found thoughts by number does not suit the style of found poems very well

bullet b: I don't write enough. But I do like writing screenplays. those are fun. lots of focus required for those ones.

letter c: I think of all the teachers at our homely little institution, you're the easiest to open up to. that's good, because anything else would be hard for kids to show real writing to.

IV: most clocks have IIII instead of IV on them if they're numerically roman

five: girls are the worst drugs

seis: my stomach almost hurts from being so hungry, but i suppose that's normal when i get up at noon, barely eat til dinner, graze after that and don't bring food with me to bed

number seven: this is not a poem. I don't think. or is it? The mystery of writing!

8: Mr. Schemper is very high quality. all around solid dude.

9: I've given up on different labels for each thought, because that's tedious and not the point of this.

10: Abby thrives off other people's pain. I hate to say it, but she's happy when others are not, and she can't get around that til she addresses the issue, but she doesn't even know it's there because everyone seems to agree with her when she points out the flaws in others so she doesn't realize it's a problem, as no one shows her.

11: I hated english classes until Señor Hiskes taught us about poetry.

12: Being polite is literally never a detriment. Ever.

13: I like the word detriment. Not so much the word detrimental cause that's used more, but definitely detriment. good word.

14: People are strange. Life is strange. If you think about how the planet and atmosphere are deteriorating based on human destruction and how people kill people based on beliefs and hatred, it all seems like a joke. Every problem could be solved if everyone stepped out of their comfort zone to help their fellow man. This has been philosopher Isaac, signing off.

15: Not actually signing off though. that's a lie.

16: Olivia Wisniewski is quite possibly the cutest girl I've ever talked to.

17: idk what to write here. adios señora rooks!

December 25

Originally I wrote "When grace entered the world" here, but for whatever reason, all the gift giving and merrymaking seems to shroud the reason for this holiday



while texting:

"Why do so few with whom you speak allude to such transparency? Or rather opacity, for all that is to be seen is visible"

"I couldn't tell ya"

"Perhaps because they fear their true intentions will be ill-recieved? But what is more cowardly than to take one's word, the very essence of their being, the sole remainder when all else is stripped away, and to use it as a mask? A mere illusion of untold thoughts? How devilish an endeavor, to hide one's ideals from the world by poisoning one's tongue

I'm shakespeare tonight fyi"

slightly later:

"Let my words be my lips,
dancing across your own,
to a rhythm known only to us;
our own hidden dance"

December 19

Everyone was excited, but everyone was too cold to show it. Huddled in hoods, mittens and boots, the shivers took place of the adventurous spirit. Ice dripped down from the railings, and carpeted the skin of the aquatic intrusion.

December 18

I've been holding it together for way too long
I've told myself and countless others far too many lies just to get by
I've smoked and drank and objectified multiple daughters of God
The only people I really, really care about are my best friends and Abby
Everyone else is just there, giving and taking as we see fit
I've lost all sense of value and purpose in God, girls, people, and unfortunately, a bit in myself

I put on a mask called confidence and they loved it
It brought me all I dreamed of: a spot on the varsity lacrosse team, more fine women than the I could see, and a sense of comfort I didn't know before
The face behind that mask slowly faded away, to the point where when I did take it off, I didn't know what was behind it
So I filled the void behind it with what was in front of it, taking a piece here and stuffing it there, till the outside was the inside and the depths of my soul were synonymous with the words slipping off my tongue

I don't know the face behind what's behind the mask

I've become the bad guy

December 13

I want to tell you about a friend of mine
One with the biggest brown eyes and an even bigger heart
But for some reason was blind and didn't know where to start

I want to tell you about a friend of mine
One who had such beauty that girls turned black with envy
and guys found no problem lusting over

I want to tell you about a friend of mine
Who had the most beautiful voice
to make me stop and think, "Holy shit she sings well"
as if she had a choice

December 12

There are certain forms that a story can take:

• as movement in tie/development of a character
• As epiphany- and AHA! moment (prior consciousness, creating an allegiance, moment of conflict, post consciousness)
• Visitation (someone comes to town and errythang changes)
• Journey (we're half way there)
• Choice narrative (start with one, build to one, right vs right, wrong vs wrong)

Potential Structure: 

• A B D D C E
• Action Scene: explosive
• Backstory: like a vitamin
• Development 1: Something happens, lots of things happen here... many events...
• Development 2: A choice is made by the narrator, "the third way"
• Climax
• Ending

December 11

Amy:

parents fight a lot

brother left for college

portfolio

one of four lives with backstory

magnum opus:

• theme (social issue)
• backstory
• use dialogue
• description of setting
• awareness of scene vs summary
• plot arc based on modern short story structure
• storyboarding 

Scene: Her parents were fighting, and she wanted none of it. She dropped her math homework after the third yell and stormed up the stairs, burst into the kitchen. Her mom's hands went up as Amy began to open her mouth, but it wasn't a quick enough sign to stop her dad's hand from whipping down with a piercing slap to her mom's cheek. Her mom fell down, wailing silently as the skin turned from beet red to pale white. 

December 9

"There is always room for a story that can transport people to another place." ~J.K. Rowling

Lacrosse
Cars
Snowboarding
Suits
Philosophy
Psychology
Government
Dogs
Girls
Jet's Pizza
Drifting
Lifting
Running
Mountain biking
Organization
College Football
MSU BABY

Connectivity
Progression
Attraction


Historical Narrative
--

Definition: Jet's Pizza
Bread shaped into two small squares, lathered with tomato sauce, smothered with cheese and speckled with pepperoni. This bread is cooked in an oven for a multitude of moments, before being removed, boxed in a cardboard entrapment and eaten by the paying customer.

Dialogue:
Patrick: Abigail! Hello!
Abby: Pattttttttt hey.
P: How've you been?
A: Alright. You know how it goes...
P: Oh. Yeah...
P: Actually I can't say I do know how it goes.
A: It's hell. They take everything from you. Your phone, your car, your friends, your life: all gone. You're forced to talk to these people, who seem like they're trying to help, but they don't know how.
P: Oh that's rough.

PAN TO ISAAC and PATRICK sitting in lecture hall. Room is full of kids writing, PATRICK and ISAAC quietly talk.

ISAAC:
(nervous)
Do you think she'll know we're not writing?

PATRICK:
Ehh probably not. She can't hear much.

December 3

Break any of these rules if you need to.

keep tags to a minimum

do not listen to specific verb rule for dialogue. stick to he said, she said.

do not yield to temptation of adverbing.

USE ACTION TAGS instead.

"I don't want any." and stared straight forward. 

"you're harassing me. I'm done with this," he said defeatedly.

He fell silent "you're harassing me. I'm done with this."

The Early Morning of December 3

"Fight Outta You ~ Ben Harper"

"I love it."

"Don't let em take the fight outta youu... Just make sure it's the right fight."

"Sac, you're so amazing. It sounds cliche and cheesy but I don't know what I would do without you."

"Well I'm here, aren't I? haha. Abby, can you promise me three things?"

"Sure!"

"The first: pray. Pray that you're broken. tell him how much you may have failed Him. be honest. open yourself up to him. cry about it. feel. it God wants you Abby. I know i'm a bad example of this but if you let God want you, you'll want Him. and that leads to good things.

The second; stop with substances. weed and alcohol take control of you. I found that out this weekend and it scared the shit out of me. as great as having a bowl is, it ultimately won't give you the support you need to progress with your life. Ive been addicted, more or less, to things like this in my life and i know how much comfort they bring. letting them become your sole source of comfort creates dependency, which creates trouble. we know that."

"can i just marry you like now. you literally always tell me what I need to hear. sac I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have take you to smoke with us. I feel so bad for pressuring you into that. I honestly ruined you and I feel absolutely terrible about it.

I know. I'm trying. it's just so hard. I've become dependent on earthly sources of happiness."

"The third; the other drug: boys. see this one i can relate and empathize to very well, cause evidently I can get it. but getting it doesn't make me feel good inside. momentarily, yes, but in retrospect was that girl a good decision? probably not. You know this feeling. my pastor, as shitty as he is, gave a sermon a few years ago on what he called soul ties. you plan on settling down with some prince charming at some point, i assume? with sara, it was harder to love her because of how many guys she'd been with, and because she didn't know a good thing when she had it. i don't want more sara's in the world, and my partner in crime abigail sure as hell isn't going to be one. soul ties, he said, are the connections we gain between people when we engage with the romantically, emotionally or sexually. you know how this goes: you have a little crush one day and it changes how you perceive him from then on. it gets worse when you hook up. these changes in perception are what he meant by soul ties. you are, by choice or not, attached to that guy, and unfortunately for us, those guys (or girls). it was hard to love sara because she had so many soul ties with so many other guys. i don't want any more soul ties with any girls who I can't seriously consider, which is a part of why al and i haven't made out yet. I want to go to your wedding. I want to see you, shining in white, putting all the bridesmaids to shame. i want to sit there next to pat and know the guy you walked up to is the man God wants you to be with. I want him to love you, and I want it to come easily. I'm sure it will, because you're difficult not to like. i want that day to be free of any inconsiderate soul ties, starting now. if think you really are compatible with mr. dude, then don't resist. but like when i heard about you and patrick sandoval, honestly, i was disgusted. he has so many soul ties with so many girls that I knew he wasn't going to value you. i don't want any more soul ties that mean nothing for you. I want you to have the strongest knot you can have someday, with that guy and with God."

"Isaac, I love you so much. and I mean those words with all my heart. you are one of the best things to come into my life in a long time. i'm saving those three things. and those three things i'm going to live by. thank you so much for being the amazing person you are."



and the i love you's and you're such a good friend's and the thank you's commenced.

November 30

"I feel terrible right now, and it's because they invited me out and it happened again. I feel even worse because I told you it wouldn't happen again, and we both believed it. I feel terrible because you forgave me once and I'm already pushing that. I feel terrible because it actually worked this time and I was high as hell. And I know I could keep doing this behind your back, but I hate keeping stuff from you cause you really are the closest thing I have to a brother. I'm sorry Nolan. It's not happening again, because you don't want it to and because you don't want me to be that person.

I know no matter how much I fuck up, He'll still forgive me and all can be well. I know you're a very accepting and forgiving person, and that it wouldn't happen after two times, but I'm not about to lose my best friend because some stupid girls passed me a bowl and I wasn't smart enough to say no."

How fucked up is it that he and one other person are the only people in my life who could tell me not to and I wouldn't?


forgiveness is a strange thing

November 25

I feel like crying, and I feel nothing at all. I feel like curling up in a ball and lying there for three days and I feel like I should be doing something with my life. I feel bad, and I want to feel good. Worst of all, I don't know what's making me feel bad, and I don't know what's keeping me from being good.

November 17

Mind Games & Guided Missiles

It was the kind of feeling where you wanted to continue, but you couldn't. You just lay there, breathing heavily, the rational part of you saying keep going, while the other ninety five percent disappeared. Not disappeared like daydreaming, or too focused to be conscious of your environment, but a feeling of physical detachment, out of body, I'm on a cloud right now, aren't I, gone. Slowly the feeling started to subside and the rational part gained some ground, and you continued what you started. It was good, but not nearly as good as before, as the feeling had changed all perception of the senses.

November 13

rap

An idea inside
That I can't get out
Like a pantomime
I just want to shout
I just want to scream
I just want to be
Who ever it is
I'm supposed to be
I want to yell and
I want your hell and
I want to cry
Cause I heard you fell
I can't help you up
You can't pull me down
I'm stuck in the middle
of the sky and the ground
Erry time I reach down
You lick your lips
To tell me no
Or to tell me this:
Oh no
you're too late
I gave you a lifetime
You gave me hate
I hate myself
Cause you hated me first
That lifetime was a desert
and you quenched my thirst
But that water that I drank
Was no water at all
it was salt and vinegar
So you could watch me fall
See my scars?
See this scratch?
These are all yours
Take them all back
All of that
All my past
All that pain
I want that passed
I want it gone now
Anxiety attacks
the eating disorder
The life I've had
Disappear
Please dissipate
Cause I don't know
If I can take

much more.

November 12

I seem to only be able to write when something is wrong. Nothing has been going poorly the past four days so I've nothing to write about. My apologies.

November 10

Inspired by Blink 182's I Miss You

A narrative of thoughts

Hello there
How have you been?
You're looking better than ever
I'm glad that we're still friends

I miss our conversation
I miss our walks to nowhere in the dark
I miss no reservations
Every single day after school
Making out in that old church bus
cause we know we're both fools
but we loved it
I miss our union
just sitting and being with each other for fun
We could have been perfect
But fuck i was too stupid
I looked away from the gold that March night
I saw some tin foil
I thought that it was shiny
I picked it up and messed around
Without your finding
If anything has caused self loathing it's that
(i never told you. i know it all seems like it was nothing now.)

Hello there
It's nice to see you in spite of this
Deja vu striking hard
As I bike over tonight
let's go stargazing
lay together on a blanket
we can hold hands if you'd like
fingers freezing together like icicles
before i leave smiling on my bike
As laugh as I get to my street
Like "God you made her perfect"
Then cry cause she was once too perfect for me
Gifts are given
But too much good is unhealthy
so they're taken also
To teach a simple lesson:
don't look too hard
don't go too far
27th up to 30th
by bike, not car
and there you'll find her waiting
sitting patiently like she always did
she'll smile with a hey there


i realize i can't write about her without talking about how damn wonderful she was. this will get repetitive. she was perfect.

November 6

Silence looks like
Finally falling asleep after a rough night

Silence looks like
The eye contact before her first kiss

Silence looks like
A sky full of snow illuminated by streetlights

Silence looks like
Sitting in the car alone, far too morose to speak

Silence looks like
Rain pouring down on the other side of a window

Silence looks like
Peace

Peace looks like
Silence

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬

Tonight's biggest accomplishment?
Drifting out of consciousness
When counting sheep & common sense
don't lend a hand to calm my head
The music stops
the pounding ends
I'm left alone
My thoughts again
Havoc wreaked
No reprimand
I can't control
What's happening

Then it stops

But only momentarily
before the bass drops again
Shaking me so scarily
From the inside out
At the point where I can barely see
losing focus
out of mind
A drug not taken
voluntarily
This is not customary
this delusional device
known as silence
known as me
Investigating my mind
What monsters may exist
behind these two emerald eyes
Is known to few
Is known to me
When distractions go to die
The beasts come out
to play with once more
raging war on the inside
But this is not Normandy
Yet I cannot stop the tide

So I hide.
I run from all the struggles
I do not face my fear
Your greatest enemy
is yourself
This enemy is not dear.

November 5

Narrative

He lies in his bed
Lying to himself
That he feels alright
That time is gonna help
A clock only hurts
each movement is hell
a reminder of the past
separation from how she felt
He sees no way
no path, no trail
Tears push from behind
remind him he's failed
time and time again
attempts with no avail
broken and stitched together
alone in this gale
hiding beneath the deck
alone in this gal
she helps for a minute
til he realizes the scale
of how he was
and how he's come to be
nothing is the same
not even in his dreams

this poem is shit

November 4

Greek Life

We're all lost
Standing on Styx
panning for gold
We pray to Hades
asking that one of these lives
doesn't grow old

When he says no
We turn our backs
and look to Zeus
When he says yes
We don't like his way
but his way is the fountain of youth

And we're confused
We don't like either path
but that's not new
We search for a medium
Some demigod or nectar
to fill us with truth

October 30

Rain sings me a lullaby
One I can't describe
Like freshly cleaned sheets
It comforts me tonight

I know it's not warm
And I know it's not dry
But the white noise dripping down
Is my friend while I lie

Soft fluctuations
In tempo and force
Create a symphony
Crashing down on my porch

Droplets are violas
and the wind is the drums
All orchestrated quietly
To a kind, modest hum

In place of counting sheep
This song will hold me tonight
As I lay here listening
to the rain til morning bright

October 29: Auditorium

The Artist

Break my heart again
Into more little pieces
Tell me you love me
When you don't really mean it
Chip away at my being
For days on end
Sculpt a piece worth loving
Then call me a friend
Let your actions be a chisel
and your words be a brush
To change my perception
To paint over my love
Make me how you want me
Then tell me I've changed
Because you can't love someone
Who can't stay the same
Take granite for granted
and once David is formed
Tell him he's useless
Cause he's not the David he was before

October 29

Metaphor Marathon
From this metaphor marathon, two longer metaphorical poems or multiple short poems must arise.

Miles 1-10: Write freely
I want my life to be neat. I want it to be tidy. I want to know where I'm going, how long it will take and how I'm going to get there. I know this sounds ridiculous, to know everything about my life, and that it might sound like there is no sense of mystery or adventure within my being. But this is not true. I love adventure. I like the unknown, but too often, what I venture into unknowingly ends up being a mistake or something that hurts me. At some point, this ideology will surely change, but for now, to know and to stand is better than to fall with no guarantee of anything catching you.

I want my life to be fun. I want a job that I love, an education that is useful, and

i just want to know. i want security. i want someone who isn't gonna hurt me who values me for what i am. i tired of the opposite. jumping in with no caution has become old. i'm sick of it.

As boring as it sounds, I want to go to a good school for something I like learning about, get a solid job and marry the woman I love (whomever she may be). I want to buy a big ass brick house in a wealthy suburb of somewhere with a good school with a good lacrosse team, and I want to send my kids there.

I want to be original. I want to mean something to someone.

Mile 11 and 12:

Mile 13 and 14: This shell seems to be together on the surface, but when you pick it up, it leaves dust on your figures, reminding you of it's parts and pieces coming off on your hand

October 23

It was the kind of car that when you saw it drive by, you were starstruck. You could see yourself in it. When you walked up to it at the dealer, you loved its color. You could see your face reflecting in the deep blue paint. It looked great even as you walked up and looked inside. It felt like a part of you when you opened the door and sat down. When you were in the seat, it felt comfortable. When you turned the key, it rumbled to life with a few coughs.

Then you started driving.

You looked out over the hood and saw that oceanic indigo and thought 'this is what I want.' The automobile grumbled along, its engine note not reflective of it's aesthetic qualities. You stepped on the gas pedal, but it didn't accelerate the way you envisioned. The steering wheel wasn't quite shaped right you noticed, as you turned a corner. The seat was a little too soft, too, and you had a sinking feeling, not about the cushion, but about this car that you once dreamed of. The brakes were too touchy, and the shifting wasn't smooth. The radio had awful sound, and the seatbelt was uncomfortable. As you pulled back into the lot, you parked it where it started. You were glad to be done with your drive, and you shut it off and attempted to get out, but not before the seat belt wouldn't come undone. Finally, you managed to free yourself, and you slammed the door in disgust. This car was not what it had seemed.

This car's name was Sara.

October 22

"After nourishment, shelter and compassion, stories are the thing we need most in the world." ~ Philip Pullman

Metaphors:
Change is the
relief after a long run
when you can finally rest.

Change is a
thorn, buried into your side,
Unable to be removed or touched.

Beauty is the
laughter you can't resist
when the person you're angry at
says something funny.

Beauty is laughter you can't resist
When the person you're angry at
Says something funny

Beauty is the irresistible laughter choked out
When your anger disappears.

Change is the laughter that springs out
When you no longer feel threatened
Because you've already given up.


I wish for you a beautiful moon of silvery white, illuminating your path as you try to stay in it's light.

October 21

"We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect." ~ Anaïs Nin

Metaphors

Warm ups:
Emotion/color:
Deep green - thoughtfulness, spirituality, pensive
Violet - High and mighty, up there, better than you
Color of counseling - yellow
Cerulean blue - fun, exciting, bright
Sunset orange - abendrot, thoughtfulness, closure
Fiery red - heat, anger
Pale pink - sister's room, disconnect

Emotional overdose of a word: Connotation (tone)

Jealousy - black, grey, red, green
Anger - bright red, orange, brilliant white
Love - yellow, light blue,
Hatred - black.
Lust - purple, violet, fuchsia,
Affection - yellow, pink, deep blue
Joy - blue and white

Light grey, faking smiles so long that it doesn't even have it's joy anymore. Constant tiredness.

Turkey vulture circling a dead deer in the sky but never coming down. Always in the sky haunting.

A dog walking with you without a leash. Giant pine trees littering the ground needles, piercing the ground with their leaves from the beginning of life. Mama leopard carrying baby leopard by the scruff of its neck.

A circle, some parts smooth and some parts rough.

Two clouds that separate then reconvene as they pass through the sky.

October 19

I don’t want to fight 

and I don’t want to yell

I hate pointing out your flaws

Cause I, too, feel its hell

I just want to work it out

And find some common ground

Where love and lover see eye to eye

Where understanding is finally found

I don't know how to do that yet

But once I find a way

I'll bring us together on that path

To better and happier days

October 18 part 1

"A bird doesn't sing because it has an answer. A bird sings because it has a song." ~Maya Angelou

What is beauty?
Beauty is personal
Beauty is expansive
Beauty is human
Beauty is inanimate
Beauty exists, even when it doesn't seem evident.


Beauty is her.
Her actions, words, thoughts, affections.
She encompasses it like none other.
She leaves both guys and girls stunned speechless.
Beauty emanates from her being.
She isn't perfect, but the attempt to become better is beautiful.
She is beautiful.

October 18 part 2

A friend texted, "Trouble in paradise?"

I replied, "Just some clouds"

≈ ≈ ≈

Trouble in paradise?

Nah, just some clouds

The waves still crash

and the sun’s coming down

The beach is so nice

Where the sky meets the ground

But it isn’t as sweet

When you’re not around

I’d love to get past

This crippling addiction

to constant presence of someone

Despite their convictions

It doesn’t matter who 

Human is the sole distinction

Being alone is scary

The pack is instinctive

The lone wolf seems

to howl at night

For the lover that’s not lost

but simply out of sight

His baying at the moon

is not out of spite 

but out of cold, dark misery

Only his shadow shares the night

Daybreak returns

about once a week

in soft brunette wonder

To make his knees weak

“Hey there” is the mating call

He finds ease in speech

when her presence is her present

Disconnect loses it’s reach

October 17

"My ideas usually come not at my desk writing, but in the midst of living." Anais Nin

I'm sorry that I don't try to help. It's really not an issue for me to be involved in such things. It's not like I'm caught in the middle. Picking sides really is too hard. I'd love for this issue not just to settle itself but you obviously can just let it go.

I'm sorry I'm not enough. I'm really not a good friend to you, and I never do what you ask. It's really not your problem at all. It's obviously mine.

I am a man, but I can change, if I have to.

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Suits.

"Suit up!" The infamous call for manliness and debauchery coined by Neil Patrick Harris's character Barney Stinson on How I Met Your Mother. Despite the fine clothing covering my body, manliness does not flow out of me. I'm tall, yes, and I've been told I'm good looking, but there's nothing more difficult than to keep a girl who isn't tame.

October 16

How to ask a girl to be your girlfriend:

I can’t wait to see her

To hold her in my arms

To whisper reassuring words

To block out all the harm

I can’t wait to hear her

To drown within her voice

They say drowning can kill a man

But in her, I’d drown by choice

I can’t wait to feel her

To breathe her in again

For I fear if she were all I breathed

My life may never end

I can’t wait to know her

To spend so much more time

With this girl sitting here with me

______, will you be mine?

October 10

"I began to write poetry when my house filled up with too many people."
Listing poem:
Lacrosse
My dog
Pizza
Nolan
Flannel sheets
Warm showers
My bed
Root beer
Chocolate milk
My car
My grandpa, grandma and nana
Patty
Sperry's
Dressing well
Acoustic guitar
Clever lyrics
Rough voices
Fresh snow
Long skimboard rides
Going downhill (physically)
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Begin a poem with this line: These have I loved and just write a list of things that you love, but in some detail (line or two per item). Use imagery, figures of speech, and unexpected details.

These have I loved: A fresh lacrosse ball, untouched by the stains of grass or turf. A large pepperoni pizza, with big round circles of meat and hot cheese, all doused in garlic and basil. Flannel sheets, so one needs not wear much to stay warm in cold nights

October 9

I see you and I think
Thanks, God
He put you here

Yet all these outside forces
Push in
creating unwanted fear

I wish for something
Some calming force
to suddenly appear

To wash out this
Long black shadow
To shine away the drear

You say you’re done with that
And I do want to believe
But I just don’t know

The same goes for me
And it surprises me
That you still question where I go

You went there
But who am I to judge?
Shit happens.

October 8

"The art of writing is the art of applying the seat of the pants to the seat of the chair." Sit down and write. Found Poem: Swooping stripes happy music its the job of the artist to deepen the mystery little ladle Columbia leftovers laguna blvd smile! give blood praxis Jesus is funner don't be afraid to be different there is nothing on this earth more prized than friendship force yoda cookies diddlydoo ignorance is bliss idaho pickles steamed broccoli plotz steve grit optimism chicken the more you know the more you know you don't know photosynthesis plethora pizza hut kerf rosseau corn dog hungry, starving, famished, peckish failiure teaches more than success dwell in possibility Poem: Roaming about the school Searching for random thoughts A found poem they say it's called and I can't argue that it's not Random words compiled together expressing ideas abstractly Structureless and free-flowing And never matter-of-factly. This poem is not very good.

October 7

I can’t wait to see her
To hold her in my arms
To whisper reassuring words
To block out all the harm

I can’t wait to hear her
To drown within her voice
They say drowning is bad for you
But in her, I’d drown by choice

I can’t wait to feel her
To breathe her in again
For I fear if she were all I breathed
My life may never end

October 5

Here he is, writing without inspiration.

Inspiration: the process of being mentally stimulated to do or feel something, esp. to do something creative.

I don't feel all too mentally stimulated right now, but I do feel like doing creative. This drive for creativity comes from hearing City and Colour's song "Hello, I'm In Delaware." Have a listen. The lyrics are so simple, yet so full of passion and emotion. I often think after hearing a song like this, 'hey I could write that.' 99 times out of 100 I can't.

My thoughts are somewhat random to the outside observer, that being because the outside observer doesn't know my thought process. Example:

I wish I could sing like he does. that'd be the boy.


Damn girl why are you so pretty. OH WAIT I don't have to worry about that. cause you're mine.


Merica.

Saying Merica rather than America seems so unpatriotic. A patriot would want the best for their country; saying Merica makes the American seem prideful, stuck up, stupid and uncultured. And although many Americans are these things, the majority possess at least one of the opposites of these qualities.


Possess, poses and posses are all spelled very similarly.


Impromptu poem written via text to said pretty girl:

She's sweet like sugar
Leaves you wanting more
Like lemonade
Addictive like a drug
Oh girl
You're my cocaine.

*let it be known, i've never done cocaine and don't plan on it.


This, Mrs. Rooks, is what Isaac's writing without rhyme nor reason turns out to be. Ideally, this would be interesting for you, and you being the loves everybody and sees the value in everything type of person, I think that it may have been.

Thanks for reading.




It has come to my attention that blogger does not appreciate the enter key and thus when you read this it doesn't show the spaces. Oh well.

October 3

See with the eyes of a child. See the delight of each day, the extraordinary of the ordinary, the wonder of the mundane, and even the beautiful in the sad.

Love, peace, anger, anxiety, happiness, tragedy, confusion, wonder, holiness, light, emptiness, loneliness, fulfillment, passion.

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After the dance, we walked to the playground. We left early, because she didn’t feel at home with all those people. The gate was locked, but bypassing the fence wasn’t difficult. She said the rocks hurt her feet, but when we got to the slide, she didn’t seem to notice. We sat a while & explored the night.

After this, we came back to my car, folded down the back seats and laid there. No words, no thoughts, no sounds except other cars piercing the night.

It was lovely.

She wore a deep blue dress to the floor, and I a white shirt and a blue tie.

We looked together.

We’re born into this world alone, and alone we’ll go out. But in the dash between date of birth and date of death, we can be together.