What the?

And April 8th is even longer!

Sometimes when I miss you most

I miss you most when

you don't laugh

and don't show up

'cause you're in New York

and wander off

and go to gym class

But sometimes when I miss you

most there you are

right in front of me

as days go by

faces smiling

cracking wise

looking like everything's

normal

normal days

normal faces

normal laughter

normal normal normal normal

normal

April 9th

so far away

It's times like these

when I miss you most

I caught myself a' whistling

I caught myself a' whistling

a beautiful, American song

and low and behold my teacher

caught the tune and disappeared, gone.

And as I stopped at my locker,

the melody continued to ring.

for behind me, a couple kids

were walking and whistling.

From one to another the song caught on

like laughter, the flu or a yawn.

But after awhile we forgot the tune.

the song had disappeared, gone.

I walked home quiet and down,

the earth was quiet like a tragedy

But behind my green front door

my parents whistled the melody.

Excitedly I turned on the tube

and switched it to CNN

and low and behold the tune

was ringing out once again!

America for once was care free

the song carried on for miles

and upon the billions of faces,

I found my teacher with the biggest smile.

Surrounded By Greatness

Everyday,

I am surrounded by greatness.

More than I will ever be able to grasp.

Sometimes I fail to see it,

And sometimes I fail to appreciate it.

But I know it's there.

When I do see it,

When the revelation hits me from time to time,

I just have to stop.

I have to stop,

And sit in awe,

Of how blessed I am.

Because there are just so many people,

So many people,


Who have impacted my life.


Who have shaped the person I am,
Who I've become,


Who I will be.


And I am just so grateful,
So grateful,


To be in the presence of so many incredible people.


My life is so rich,
Because of so many.


Who am I to be so blessed?

Sorry Rut!

Oh my Rut,

I am sorry for my jokes with all my heart.

In choosing to be a jerk,

and failing to be mature,

I have offended you,

whom's class I should care about above all things.

I firmly intend, with your help,

to write creatively,

to be a tool no more,

and avoid whatever leads me to say, "Calm down."

I'm sorry.

Handlebars by Flobots

courtesy of youtube.com

This song is about the American dream. No matter how small you are or where you come from, you can grow up to be whatever you want. Corruption is a scary thing, though. Do we know how a person is affected when given incredible power? Do we know how we will act with that power?

Ode to Getting Deodorant on my Shirt.

From the haste after a short sleep,

the early morning following a late night,

stressing to get ready for the all important school day.

Stressed from having such a short sleep.

Like a freshly paved highway, the white strips of paint,

stretching for miles and miles through the magnificent country side.

The majestic hills and mountains, decorated by a ribbon,

The freshly paved highway and glistening white lines.

So much like the elegant forest creature,

its beautifully combed black hair covering its body

and that identifyingly brilliant stripe from its head to its tail,

just like that elegant creature.

And those old school chalkboards, blackboards,

the white chalk is an instrument for the wonderful art of the kids,

who so gleefully play tic-tac-toe and sketch monsters and bunnies.

The white chalk on the blackboard like that new highway.

My shirt, already raddy, could it take anymore carelessness?

My dexterity shot from coming across PA before a school day,

but I will take full responsibility for this horrid incident.

Oh my shirt, I am sorry.