Music

I am music.

An open palace of sound, whose understanding knows no bound.

A friend who will always take you in, no matter what you've done or where you've been.

An accepting mentor, who will inspire love to your core.

Never will I leave you, oh child of mine, never will I forsake you: your life I shall forever sign.

For I am music: the eternal care-giver.

Passion

The pallor of your skin only adds to the illustrious burning passion my gaze holds for you.

This gaze swallows my being. It is all I can feel, think. I no longer breathe oxygen, I breathe this power you hold. It is all I have.

Your face is all I see, even when my eyes are closed. Your beauty has imprinted on my soul: the signature of a beautiful artist.

This artist will never know her audience though, as you fail to realize my existence.

So here I sit, ears ringing with the sound of your voice, eyes burning with the image of your face, fingers pained with the truth that they will never be intertwined with yours. The pain spreads, breaking free from my fingers and flowing out through the open cuts on my wrist.

A Jumbled Mess

If life is a book, it's a book finished too quickly.

The chapters lack numbers, and the sentences lack punctuation.
It's a jumbled mess of love & loss, fear & courage, pain & joy, and so much more but yet, so much less.

When the ending is upon you, there is no final shock.
No long lost love to return,
No dawning realization or resolution.

No awards will this book win, for only a few will ever hear your story.
And fewer still will understand the true meaning of it.

The Absence of Hope

"The absence of hope is the greatest despair." - Debra Forrest

The Loss of Hope

The loss of hope, is a life ending.
It's a bomb exploding.
The planes crashing,
And a martyr burning.

The loss of hope, is the sun setting: to never rise again.
It's the fish drowning,
And the sky falling.
It's the ocean roaring, and the lion purring.

The loss of hope, is the silent cry of Romeo.
It's the love of hate,
And the hate of love.
It's the betrayal of sun by rain.

The loss of hope, is the greatest despair.

The Idea of Love

I entered an online poetry contest about a month ago. I got a letter telling me that I'm a semi finalist for the grand prize and that I've been published in an upcoming poetry book! I thought I'd share the poem that is going to be put in the book with all of you.

The Idea of Love

He was in love with the idea of loving her.
But the idea of love, doesn't hug back.

She didn't know, he existed.

He watched her, fall in love with someone else.

He was heartbroken. He ran up the stairs,
Looking for a new love.

The new love was sharp and beautiful.

He began to make himself one with it.

The slow repetitions of his love, began to cut deep.

They found him on the bathroom floor -
with a bloody razor blade in his hand: His new love.

The razor blade gleamed,
as the last bit of his bloody love dripped off of it.

The Tree

All the things in life form a tree.

I climb in a mad frenzy,
to reach the top.

And I forget about the lower, thicker branches:
The support.

As I get higher, the support starts to decay.
The neglect and disresepct of the support, has taken its toll.

The tree starts to crumble,
Every step I take towards the top, the weaker the branches get; the lower bracnhes support less and less.

I fall.
What is there to catch me?

The lower branches, the trunk.
They'll always be waiting for me.

The Doors of Vienna

The Doors to Vienna

I'm running.
I'm running fast.

I'm trying to reach the open doors of Vienna,
I'm running to them.

Three minutes and I'll reach them,
Why am I running so fast?

What is so attractive about Vienna?
A minute ago it was so attractive, but as I draw closer I'm not so sure.

Is life bad enough to run willing into the open arms of death?
I'm not so sure anymore..

I run faster,
But in the opposite direction.

Those doors are not something I want,
I don't want to die.

I'm running as fast as I can from the galloping horse of death,
But, will I make it?

Bleeding On The Page

I have a teacher who told me to take all my pain and let it bleed out onto the page. So, here it goes. Remember, I've only ever written poems for English class, so don't judge too harshly on my first attempt.

Untitled by J. Campbell

Life is a dying Lie.
As we try to unravel the lie,
We find more lies: Love, Happiness, Joy.

The Lies of Life,
Lead to hiding places: Pain, Hurt, Sorrow.
And the ultimate escape of a coward: Death.

The coward, chooses Death.
The martyr, chooses the Lie.
Which is the brave one?

Suicide: Cowardice or Power?

Suicide and depression are tragic. And many people choose to dishonor the portrayers of suicide by calling them cowards. I think this is wrong. I do not believe that suicide is a cowardly act, but that it is a way to grasp what is yours and take your final chance and leave your mark on this world. In The Tragedy of Julius Caesar, Brutus commits suicide. He was a true martyr and died for Rome. People just love that. But when the depressed kid down the street, who gets abused by his parents and made fun of at school for his eccentric personality and clothing options, slits his wrists he gets called a coward. Why? Because people see what they want to see. And that is wrong.
Who gets to decide whether the death in question is an act of cowardice or of power? Of taking what final option given to us by Life and killing ourselves. When we get put on this earth we don't get to choose our environment and life. Life is no "Choose-Your-Own-Adventure" book. We get thrown into whatever, by whoever "creates us". This is where my faith in the Christian religion falters, why would a God who supposedly loves us put us in a situation where we get beat, raped, abused, made fun of, etc.? Suicide is sometimes the last option for a person. And, that's why suicide is an act of power, it's humans taking what final option they have and setting out on that new adventure called death.

Why So Hateful?

I've been noticing that a lot of people hate Justin Bieber. Now, I'm no "Bieber Fever" crazed lunatic, but I don't think he's all that bad. I found this article, that I agree with a lot. It lists reasons why everyone hates Bieber and why those reasons are moot.

Now, how does hating on Bieber relate to my blog? While, I think the way he gets treated is ridiculous; all he does is get up there and shows everyone who he is. He writes his own music, and does a lot of his own choreography, he's a true martyr for my cause.. Although he doesn't know it. Anyways, the boy gets up there and does his thing in front of everybody and doesn't let the negative criticism take him down, no matter what. He's always smiling and endorsing good causes, etc. He is himself, and shows the public exactly who he is. Next time you go to call him a fag, think about this: he's probably doing a better job of putting himself out there than you are, at least he can be himself. Can you say that?

Catcher in the Rye, Perks of Being A Wallflower, and my aspirations.

"Grand. There's a word I really hate. It's a phony. I could puke every time I hear it." - Holden Caulfeild, The Catcher In The Rye

The Catcher in the Rye is probably one of my favorite books. It's all about a disenchanted young man, the plot doesn't quite relate to my blog, but a lot of the time the main character Holden sheds his opinions on phoniness and fakeness. He hates how people are fake, and how he wishes people would be more real which definitely does relate to my blog. Also, Perks Of Being A Wallflower is a book about this teenage boys life, and he speaks about how people should just be themselves. I aspire one day to write a book that is as influential as The Catcher in the Rye, a book that will show people that being yourself is the most important thing. I guess we'll see.

Greatness,

"Be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them."

All people have greatness coming their way, according to this quote.
Some are born with it, some achieve it, and others have it thrust upon them.
But, not all people unlock the potential of their greatness.
Some who are born with greatness, never unlock it and show its beauty and power.
Some who have greatness thrust upon them, never accept the greatness and never show its magnificence.
So today, I want you to think about this:
Have you been sitting around letting your greatness sit idle inside of you?
Have you not been working to achieve the greatness you deserve?
Or have you had greatness thrown your way like a baseball, but you have yet to catch it and throw it back?
Shakespeare says we all have greatness, but he doesn't say we all use our greatness.
My challenge for you is this : Stop letting your greatness be unused. Show your potential, show your power, and be strong.
Don't let your greatness slip away, you'll regret it.
You truly will.