Shared Concepts

Seconds, minutes, hours, days

time in human perception

Weeks, months, years, centuries

shared concepts of organization

It'll change by where you are

it'll change in your mind

it doesn't exist when you are asleep and it goes faster when you have fun

time is simply a human idea created to keep order

nothing else uses it, no animals or sentient beings

It's strange, don't you think, how we rely on an idea, and base our lives around something so flimsy

Letters, words, phrases, paragraphs,

language so common and yet so varied

so extravagant yet so simple

another shared concept of the human mind

These things we base our lives upon

those things so often changing and rewritten

these things so diverse and yet also the same

These shared concepts of everyday humanity

Sometimes I Laugh

Sometimes I take a look at the human race and marvel

Other times I stare

On occasion I ponder over what is and isn't there

Isn't it silly, how some love isn't allowed?

Isn't it strange, how one gender is used to sell, and it seems they are what is being sold?

How one person's happiness disgusts another,when it has no effect on them at all?

Welcome to the human race

Where common sense is a rare trait and those who have it are afraid to speak up.

You can argue how far we've gone in science but I can argue how behind we've gotten on social policies

Did we sacrifice one for the other?

Did we trade caring and acceptance for industry and government?

That is how it seems to me

when I look and compare

Sometimes I laugh

for it's dark humor I've come accustom

the joke called the human race

the failed experiment of too many gods

picking up the pieces and not knowing what to do

eventually moving on to worthwhile business

To many lost puzzle pieces

to many roads to nowhere

thats what we are in the end

the Human race.

The Joke Of The Universe

Human Nature- an attempt at slam poetry

society tells us to stand out

society tells us to be different

yet when we do

when we break the mold

we're called freaks

we're shut down

we're left confused

they say they don't want conformity

They Do

they say they don't like stereotypes

They Do

they peck and tear 

they scratch

we bleed

we fear

they ask why

we die

they ask why

failing to see the results of their actions they are blind to the consequences

They say survival of the fittest, well I say Conformity

Human nature is to be afraid

Human Nature is to hide yourself

Human Nature is to pretend so THEY don't ask any questions

Human Nature is Pain Suffering and Refusal

Human Nature is Fear

Empathy, Sympathy, any Emotions at all

Who needs them

They Were Mutations From The Start

Pride greed Blame Desire 

these things are what fuels us today

Not as a person but as a Hive

Buzzing

Buzzing with conflict, ignorance, and wrath

This is human nature raw to the bone

no sympathy, no empathy, no love, no hope

For those things we only use for own our advances  at the expense of people of the people we claim to care about

Backstabbing

Revenge

it's all throughout history

History is war

not love

War makes the textbooks

not a kind gesture of today

not unless it starts a fire only to to be dampened by rage and prejudice

they say Time Heals Wounds

I say time does Nothing

Time is but a shared concept created by man

A mere shared idea with no other value

I say time makes things Worse if you just sit and do nothing

Problems don't fix themselves you know

we must face these atrocities 

We must end it right Here

We must flip our norms upside down and write new ones

things can't get much worse

we may as well try

rewrite society rewrite humanity

put away the bottle

screw ignorance 

try equality

Open your eyes

see whats really going on

see whats hidden

see what you've been ignoring

Now fix it

just fix it

I dare you to try

Oh, you don't want to?

Thats what got us here in the first place.

Poetry reflection

Poetry belongs to everyone, and has had a place in my life. When I was little, we had a copy of Where the Sidewalk Ends  by Shell Silverstein that my dad would read to me sometimes. I remember my favorite three where the one about the king and his peanut butter sandwich, the guy being eaten by the boa constrictor, and the one about the girl who refused to take out the trash. 

Poetry has somewhat of an importance in my life because sometimes I write poems about the plots or scenes in stories I am writing, like the Two Voice, or Nonsense poem I did in class based on a story of a pair on twins, one born in one universe of magic, the other in a universe like ours, coming together and defeating what their parents couldn’t. It sort of helps me develop the scene better because depending on the type of poem, there aren’t as many rules or guidelines as a normal story. This has gotten me thinking that perhapsI will have random bits of poetry in my published books, sort of like Lewis Carol’s Alice in Wonderland. 

Poetry belongs to everyone in my opinion, simply because it is the kind of thing anyone can do. Not everyone can have the idea for the plot of a book, but anyone can write a poem about something they are familiar with, like nature or social justice or school, or stress; these being topics that can’t always satisfyingly fill a book or short story. As long as you are literate, have means to write, and an idea, you can write poetry.

The life and experiences effect what a poet creates by changing what they write about. If you live in the city in the high end area and have never been any where else, you probably wouldn’t be familiar with a slum, thus you would not write about it. Instead you would write about the nice things you know of. If you are a man who is not aware of how society makes unreachable standards and ideals for woman, you would not write about that, but a woman who has experienced it would. Someone who has social anxiety, knows someone close to them who does, could write about it. 

People write about what they are familiar with and know. I know more about how a public school in America works than how a Christian school in Finland works, so I would rather obviously write about the public school in America. If I wrote from the point of view of a character I role play that is wary of making friends and being social with mortals because they always end up getting killed by monsters, I would have the connection of having a friend just sort of leave and stop talking to me, and being anxious because I don’t know why. It’s not as drastic, but I can still put myself in her shoes and have my own personal emotions help me write her’s realistically. 

Poetry has had a part in my life in it’s own way, from in my bedroom, to in the classroom. It belongs to everyone who is literate, and able to write it down. Poetry is indeed effected by what the author is around and familiar with due to the fact that you probably wouldn’t write about things that you don’t know about.

Olive's Poem

Sitting in the dogwood, tears shining on her face

Silent, solitary, alone in it’s embrace

Grasping at a picture frame

Happiness frozen in time

The smile

The light

It can only be valued

If you know what it’s like when it’s gone

And he was gone

Yes he was gone

Very, most definitely gone

The yellow bus had seen to that

It smiled at her though lying eyes

for it knew what it had done

She smiled back to make it think

It was only games and fun

Indeed it was funny

in a dark malicious way

How someone could be happy

then have it trickle away

Much like a puzzle

Someones life can be

Once a piece is missing

It’s clear for all to see

It can’t go long before being found

even though it tries

The picture shown is clear

The broken heart

It cries

Will Grayson Will Grayson- 3-7-14 87-129

Summarize what you have read today

Okay so today I've read the part where the two Will's meet each other. For the sake of confusion I am going to call the one in the chapters who's friends with Jane who I talked about last post Grayson, and the other one Will. Now Will has these two friends. Maura, a nosey twat for lack of a school appropriate word, and an internet friend named Isaac who he kind of has an adorable crush on. He and Isaac agree to meet up in Chicago at what ends up being a porn shop. 
"i remember that isaac's friend suggested the place. or at least thats what he said."
It just so happens that Grayson is there because his fake i.d. is wrong and says he's 20 and not 21 and wasn't able to go to a concert next door. Grayson was going to buy Tiny gay porn but only had four dollars. Then he used his debt card, but that had his real name on it so the cashier called him on it.
"He swipes it through the card machine and says, "I don't give a shit, kid. It all spends the same."'
 Then Will came up because he heard his name. Outside they tell one another about themselves and Will keeps for Isaac. Soon he gets a call from Maura. She tells him that Isaac doesn't exist, and it was her just playing a cruel joke on him.  The only real friend he had, the person he actually looked forward to talking to in the day, didn't even exist. Dick move Maura.
"tiny: did someone die?
me: yeah, i did."