"Jazz On Jupiter"

Once I fall asleep, my mind continues the story of the greatest cliffhanger I've ever seen.
The still images do not move, the mouths never spoke;
unconsciously retelling the story of the most vivid feeling ever to be unreciprocated, malleable in my mind.
The colors created sound
And the Radiance made me blind.
These dreams gave me the greatest feelings of performing my Jazz on Jupiter and finding my Mecca on the Moon.
Sleep has become a stage and once the curtains close, my heart reconnects the accordion to continue this cliffhanger.
Clinging onto my creative imagination, I unconsciously recant the story of the most vivid feeling ever to be captured and released in my mind.
The colors collide with reality
And the Radiance made me blind.
One night I dreamt of getting gold for the greatest story ever told and woke up
Watching the News and drinking Orange Juice.

*Written in one day.


Four Knuckles In Length.

Empty hands
Held out for a purpose.
These palms once clutched soil and worms.
They've bled, and have since crusted over to sickle-shaped scars.
These empty hands have never trembled yet they've turned to fists in sight of death.
These fingers form spider webs to trap truth.
Lies aren't lost; these hands speak sign language for the mute.
In times of drought and famine, these hands dug wells and trenches, constructed aquaducts and laid seed for vegetation.
These hands were once trusted by a lioness to deliver her cubs under the rain of an Afrikan night.
Frightened by the face of the world, the last out of the womb embraced its Lord with a bite across one hand
Four knuckles in length.
This hand bled, and has since crusted over to sickle-shaped scars.
These hands have tamed wild rhinos and fed Impalas.
With the most advanced technology known to man,
These hands carefully crafted parachutes from napkins, paper clips and string
Four knuckles in length.
Gold rings and an angel wings tattoo hid the true identity of these hands when the palms, which once
clutched soil and worms became empty.
These cracked hands are aquaducts for captured tears and build underground wells
of the strongest brick known to man.
Empty hands
Held up for a purpose.
Two fingers scream for peace the way they make women scream for me;
The way I screamed at the face of the world when I was born
And bit my father across his hand
Leaving a scar four knuckles in length.

This piece took me 2 weeks to write. It contains 9 metaphors.
See how many you can find/translate yourself. I'll share with you the breakdown in about a week. I want to hear what you think.


How could I say "yes" to her, without first saying "yes" to myself?
The monument that was falsely constructed out of unreciprocated passion has been torn; the foundation stands yet it is not grand enough for the structure set to replace.
There is another vacant space unoccupied by wilted feelings with a sign from the owner that says "Yes!"
I have finally been liberated from the cluthes of a beautiful unknowing pseudotormentor and now I can breath and when I exhale, I can believe in YES!

Give up your seat for the women on the bus.
Hold the hands of little children who are lost in this generation.
The world can be an ugly place when the devil is the conductor of your train.
The way you hold the door open for strangers angers demons.
Donate a dollar to the decrepit homeless, conscience of the temptations that lure you on every corner.
Who grabs your outstretched hand?
We love to reach for open hearts.
The world can be a beautiful place when peace is the constructor of your brain.
When you share a meal, somewhere in the world a fire burns out.
Turns out, those good deeds feed and nourish those in need of the sweet water you drink.

Carpe Diem.

I never knew, or never really cared about what "Seize the day" meant. Apparently, you're supposed to take advantage of any day, randomly and do some crazy shit in the spur of the moment. I never believed in "Carpe Diem" because I always thought it had to be some grand plan like go sky diving, base jumping... exhilarating shit like that.
I was wrong.
This week, I felt on top of the world. Prior to this week, shit seemed to blur by- dull hours turned into long, dragging days and everyday became gray. Tuesday proved to be one of the best days of this whole 21-unit semester and it took a secret admirer to make me seize the day.

After a 5 hour shift at the hospital and class, the weather was that right kind of temperature and crispy. With a cold can of Coke, I laid under the shade behind my school for a cool half hour, had The Smiths in my ears and chilled. Day seized.

I'll be doing this more often, before the weather gets to the 90's. Getting in touch with my tropical side.

"Come on, Steve. We've got a diem to carpe!"-Cloudy With A Chance of Meatballs.

I Want To Tell You A Quick Story

With as much time as I spend on the Metro, I run into a bunch of homeless people who come from nearly every street of Los Angeles. The Green Line goes from Downtown Long Beach to Downtown Los Angeles. Many of these characters are of no significance but there is one who stands out for me.

I see one man who "squats" in front of a fabric factory every day. Throughout the night and into the morning, he sits on several paint buckets on the side of the building that hides the Sun. On my way home, around sunset, he sits on the opposite side with all his belongings again away from the Sun. He never takes off, he never changes spots. I noticed one day that his building is the only one on the entire street with no graffiti on it.

Those paint buckets that he sleeps on are given to him by the owner of the building. They let him "live" there and he paints over any tagging or graffiti. He takes good care of those grounds. I never see the graffiti but I always see the new patches of gray paint that cover it up. This man takes pride in his work.

I see a homeless man who may have been left with nothing but he still feels efficient in a way. I think Los Angeles needs to see more of this mutualism.

That's it.
Thank You.