The Clock: A sound poem

Had to write a sound poem for my class. This is one i actually came up with, well at least the framework, quite some time ago. The basic idea stemmed whilst I was laying in a hotel bed, texting someone I really care about. Basically i was quite invested in the conversation, so while i was staring at my phone, waiting for a response, i began to write this poem. I did some editing to smooth it out a bit and here’s the finished poem.

The Clock

Here I am, laying in bed.

Staring at the clock.

It’s only reply, tick-tock.

Awaiting your reply,

Here I shall write.

The clock goes on, tick-tock.

So I write thinking of you,

And all your beauty.

Tick-tock, I swear me it mocks.

Blue eyes, crash through my mind,

And flood my soul.

The ticking drowns away.

Smile, brighter than the night sky.

Face of an angel.

You keep the ticking at bay.

Your thoughts mean most of all,

To me a drug.

Tick-tock, it’s incessant.

An addiction I can’t fight.

Try even? I can’t.

The clock remains its, tick-tock.

Now I too am drowning!

Your words don’t come.

Tick-Tock, it grows louder.

Perhaps, you are now sleeping.

Shall I say goodnight?

Tick-tock, it rings through my mind.

How I long for your words,

To sedate me.

Tick-tock! It’s now screaming.

A moment of elation:

A vibration.

Thank you, for the ticking fled.

The high creeps through my mind,

I am now free.

I smile, at your response.

I try my hand at something,

Oh so clever.

Then I find myself waiting.

Waiting for my next hit.

My high waning.

Tick-tock whispers the clock.

Textural Poem

I was asked to write, for class, a textural poem. Here is what i came up with.

Sandy beaches

How could one describe the feeling,

Of sand beneath your feet?

Soft as a field of grass,

The sod farm where we once lay.

Nearly as malleable as clay,

I was like putty in your hands.

As salty as the sea,

Southern winds blew your hair.

A massage, in-between your toes,

Bright pink nails, your favorite color.

Sand in my mouth, gritty,

Our first kiss on the dunes.

Wet now, from the ocean tides.

Tears, glistening, in your green eyes.

Cold at night, your shoulder.

Moon so bright, your eyes dim.

How could I describe the feeling,

Of the love that we lost?

-Peter Brindley

Welcome Back! Rant about my new life.

I apologize for my lack of posting in the past, well long time. Last semester was quite a rough time for me personally. I lost touch with myself, and basically fell into the depths of depression and the abuse of crutches to mask my emotions, my problems, my insecurities, and a slew of other issues i had with myself. Crutches could be anything, ranging from sex, drugs (not that i do drugs), alcohol, relationships, or any other aspect of life that is used inappropriately in order to mask issues, remove stress, hide emotion, etc, without actually confronting the issue at hand. It took me quite a bit of time to get through this, especially because the group of friends that i associate with most, was and sadly still is, spiraling down that direction.

Thankfully, a summer with some well needed alone time, has allowed me to get myself back onto the path that i desire to be on. In fact, not in my entire life have i been on such a good path. My goal is to lead a healthy lifestyle, that will ultimately lead me to my goals and desires.

This idea of a healthy lifestyle permeates well past simple bodily health, although for me that’s a big step. I have always been overweight, and due to the ridicule of my brothers, i grew quite self-conscious and coped by well eating more. Seems quite silly to me now, but at the time I didn’t even know i was stress eating.

Anyway, basically for me now, to be going to the gym on a daily basis, and to be eating healthy is a big step. How i got to this place where i don’t just give up, give in to my desires, give in to my insecurities that it will never work? Well honestly, I’m in a pretty good place with myself. I believe that before we can love anyone else in this world, we must love ourselves. Getting to that place is no easy task. It took me quite some time, time full of reflection, meditation, and reading material that would guide me on the way. Two vital books that i found were, Gifts of Imperfection, by Rene Brown, and Active Consciousness, by Amy L. Lansky. To the authors, thank you both.

Basically, though, my healthy lifestyle involves, emotional, bodily, psychological, and basically any other aspect of this life’s health. I’ve gone on diets before. I’ve also attempted to keep up exercising. But it never worked out. I was always doing it because i was insecure and didn’t like the way i looked. This time however, i am sticking with it. I believe it’s because this time I’m not doing it for anyone, I’m not doing it for society’s fucked up views on beauty. I’m doing it for me. I’m doing it to be healthy, to be able to do all the things I want to do, and to generally get right for myself. I encourage you all to do this with me. If you want any more information on what, my steps are, feel free to reach out. Also, i encourage you to check out those two books.

Sorry for this long rant about my new life style, I really only wanted to let you all know that along with this healthy life, I am working on the path to reach my goal. So i will be posting on here much more often. Also I’m currently enrolled in a creative writing class, which is forcing me to write, so i will be posting some of my writing from there on here. It feels good to be back.

Emily

A friend of mine asked me once to write a story about her. This is what I came up with. I hope you enjoy!

Emily

As I hold her hand, I look up at her face. I see so much anguish, so much pain, but behind all that, there is so much beauty. A beauty that provokes so many words and yet takes them all away from me at the same time. At times such as now, I get lost in her beauty, only finding my way out when her soothing voice finds its way to my ears.

Her dark curly hair, cascades like a waterfall around her face, parting like a river parts around a rock. Sweat beads around her forehead. The sun shines around her, lighting her skin up in a way that makes her seem almost angelic.

I move my gaze toward her full, brown eyes. Mysterious and yet warm, like the darkness. A darkness only broken by the bright spark that is her, as the stars break the vast darkness of the night sky. A spark of the unending, enduring life that she holds.

I am ripped away from this vision, as I notice that her eyes had begun to overflow in tears. I cannot help but want to wipe the tear away, but as I reach up, I drop my hand back down for I know I cannot.

I look at her full, red lips. How I wish that I could kiss those lips one more time, right here, right now.

I feel as though I too need to cry. But I cannot. For her sake, I must remain strong.

My eyes trace her face. Memorizing every single line, every contour, every turn. It is as if I can see past her face, into her soul. I see who she is. I see a woman that is so full of care and compassion. A woman who can make me laugh at almost anything she says. A woman who makes me believe in everything that I once could not even contemplate. A woman that I care so much for. A woman named Emily.

I wish so much that I could feel her body against mine once more. Feel our skin touch, meld together, as if we are one. I remember the last time we made love, passionate and yet gently. Each time as if it was our last, her body trembling as I pull her closer to mine.

I remember as we lay naked under the covers, the way I traced her smooth skin, as if I was trying to see her through my hands alone. I remember the way I touched her face, pulling hers toward mine. I remember a kiss, ever so lightly placed on her lips.

I remember the words we spoke. I remember telling her everything. She knows me better than anyone else, and I like to think I know her the same.

Most of all, I remember believing that it would never end. As if she and I, were meant to be together, for all eternity. As if we could never grow old, that we would stay in these moments, together, forever. As if time did not matter. As if what we had was infinite. As if nothing could change that.

How wrong I had been. How very wrong.

I know that it’s nearly time. Nearly time that I must let her go. I can’t help but allow the tears to escape my eyes.

Her face has become red. The tears are coming faster now. She is holding onto me for dear life.

I cannot help but wonder where she will go from here. Will she find someone new? I hope that she will. As much as it would pain me, I know she deserves to find happiness.

We both know it has to end. We both know this is the end.

I refuse to look away from her eyes, although I can see very little of her through the tears, “I love you, Emily.”

As I hear myself say those words, I know it is time. I allow my hand to slip out of hers. She cries out, and reaches for my hand once again.

I am already gone.

I give her one last smile, as I fall to the ground below. I close my eyes. My last thought will be of her. I can see her now, smiling. I can hear her laughter, I cannot help but laugh along with her.

I do not hear her screams. I do not feel pain when I hit the ground. I only see her. I feel her beside me, her hand in mine. I can hear her whisper, “I love you.”

A kiss long awaited

Working on writing a story about a dream i had last night, at the urge of my friend Kaitlin. I’m working on a kiss scene. I have a few ideas, but here is one idea. It’s supposed to be a first kiss between two people whom both have wanted this for some time.

Spellbound, I follow behind her with a smile, knowing that this was the moment I was waiting for. As I reach the top of the stairs, the nervous pit in my stomach has grown an enormous amount. She looks back at me with a teasing grin and the nerves are gone. We lock eyes for a moment and I move toward her, placing my hands on her hips. I can smell a mixture of perfume, alcohol, and her own scent. Her hot breath on my face entices me. I look deep into her eyes, holding there for just a moment, until she turns away, flashing me a nervous smile. My fingers trace through her silk like hair, flowing, parting like liquid. My hand reaches the back of her neck. I smile as I look down at her full, red lips. I pull her close, her body tight against mine, and press my lips against hers. We kiss softly for a moment, just one after the other, our lips finding their way around each other’s. She moves her arms, placing them around my neck. I entangle myself in her embrace. Our warm bodies together as one. In a rush of excitement, I push her up against the wall behind her, locking her there with my chest and my wet lips. Our kissing has become faster, harder, sloppier. I feel her hands make their way into my hair, pulling me into her. I realize that I haven’t taken a breath since we started kissing, and I pause. Our breaths are rapid and hot. I press my forehead against hers, locking our eyes, and give her another kiss, this one soft and sweet. I can’t help but smile at her, she smiles back, knowing we had been waiting for this moment for a long time.

Journal entry #1

I really would like to have some sort of awesome, thought provoking first post, however i also realize that you all don’t know anything about me. Why would you care about some post from some random person that you have never met? If i was in your position, i most likely wouldn’t care either. So maybe i should start it off with an excerpt from my journal. Giving you a little insight into the kind of person that I am.

This is my entry in my journal from April 5, 2014. Reading it now, it seems as if i tried so hard at seeming sophisticated and philosophical. Perhaps it comes across even a little pompous. Either way, here it is, i shall not censor myself.

April 5, 2014

Just so you know, if you are reading this, if I ever allow anyone to read this, this is just me, sitting at a computer, listening to music, and writing down my thoughts.

So I guess I will begin.

Time means nothing. That’s the lyric that I just heard. I wonder if the fact that I am listening to music will greatly affect the way I write, the thoughts I think. Of course I know this is true. But then what even are my thoughts if not just a representation of something that is going on in my environment. I cannot type as fast as I am thinking, my thoughts are streaming faster than my fingers can move. Perhaps I need to learn to type faster. That seemed to be a genuine thought, coming directly from my psyche and not from the environment. But then again, what is the psyche if not a creation of the environment. Of all the things that I have been taught. A representation of my upbringing and the society that I have grown in.

The song has changed. And so have my thoughts. Perhaps my stream of thoughts will change with the music. Maybe I will do that on purpose. But the entire point of this exercise is to tap into my unconscious thought and if I say that I may do that. And yet if I plan to do that, then that is not my unconscious but more my conscious or subconscious. Jason keeps walking in and out of the door. I don’t want him to view (laughing at my attempt of sophistication) my writing. But why must I hide my words? If I’m hiding my written word from others, could it not be so that I am hiding my thoughts from my written words. Wow that’s a pretty decent realization from a bunch of nothing. At least for now. But there I go again moving something I want to achieve unconsciously into my conscious or subconscious thought. Once I think of it consciously is it not always in my subconscious? Influencing my thoughts. When I think of this influence I think to my memories, but real quick the song is about to change, and I find myself thinking of starting a new paragraph and (this commercial is cutting through all of my thoughts, and is stuck directly in my conscious, okay it is gone, but I love this song.)

I’m going to cut off that thought of the paragraph and start a new one. This isn’t the song I originally thought it was, but I like this song as well. So back to my memories. All my life I haven’t questioned my memories, or at least the few that I can remember. But in recent times, I have begun to question the validity of them, perhaps this stems from my reading of Doris Lessing’s The Golden Notebook, but regardless, I am still questioning it. I have this memory of a time when I was a baby, I was walking, and I had a bottle in my hand. I slipped on a rag and split my lip open on the bottle. I remember not the stitches I received, but the scar on my lip is still there. But this memory is one that I should not have. I was too young to formulate such a long lasting memory. All my family has told me this story, countless times, and I believe their recollections of this event have implanted a false memory into my mind. I can even remember a time that I once did not remember this memory. But perhaps the only reason I can remember that time is because I am questioning my memories and thinking of whether or not there was a time in which I could not remember these memories. I think that the only thing that I can do is begin to write a journal. In fact I will start today.

Dear viewer,

Welcome to my blog. This is my first blog. I have high hopes for it and I hope you enjoy. This will basically be a mixture of my thoughts, writings, and I guess whatever else I would like to put up here. If you have any questions, comments, or suggestions, feel free to contact me. However, I would not like to receive any shit, this includes spam or hate mail.

A little bit about me. I am a 19 year old college student, studying at Stony Brook University, on long island, NY. I am currently studying Psychology and Literature. My passion however, lies in writing and reading people. I have started this blog with the encouragement of a few of my friends, and i hope this will be the beginning of a long and successful career in writing.