why do we try?
is it the possibility of failure that
is it the game?
white or black, win or lose
good or evil
we roll the dice Continue reading Change
On a whim, I checked the daily prompt and found myself instantly inspired by poignant reminders of my experience abroad – how no matter where I go, I am simultaneously always visiting, and yet constantly at home.
via. Daily Prompt: Foreign
in a word, i am
foreign in the culture i
a backdrop of canadian swamp
shot through with tropics
where the jungles roam
where austrian roots and
lost romanian language skills have Continue reading Daily Prompt: Foreign
I recently was lent a copy of The Diamond Age, a novel by Neal Stephenson which explores a fantasy-like future in which nanotechnology and cultural constructs reign supreme. It was in this unlikely (and thoroughly enjoyable) bundle of pages that I found an intriguing poem – “The Raven” by Samuel Taylor Coleridge, whom I had studied in my grade twelve Literature class.
As you can likely tell by the title of this post, the poem struck a chord with me. The following composition is based on Coleridge’s “The Raven”, with my own ideas thrown in for good measure.
Underneath a stout walnut tree
There was of swine a great company.
They grunted as they crunched the wood,
Which, not long after, no longer stood. Continue reading The Crow
Fresh outta art school
I’m quickly realizing that
those 6-hour classes with
dreadlocked, tattooed classmates
weren’t part of the real world Continue reading [Fresh outta art school]
If you’re wondering why the stanzas are so weird, it’s because I originally wrote this piece as a song, not a poem….
There are paths we walk when we are lost
There are ways we change our world with words
Our sight with labels put on lines
Our eyes with tears we cry at night
Am I two spirits flying blind
Am I lost too deep inside
Myself and all the other things
I keep there – buried away
Am I alone as I would think
After all these years without Continue reading Flying Blind
I dunno about you, but in my world, INTJs always wear cloaks and carry scythes….
I say INTP because that’s my type, but I’m pretty sure all introverts feel this way sometimes….
In addition to my semi regular Last Week’s Poetry feature, and my temporary series, The INTP’s Guide to Everyone Else, I’ve decided to start posting a series of comics I’ve been working on for the past few months. It’s another Myers-Briggs inspired thing, and I’ve decided to call it “Introverts Galore.” Because introverts. Lots of them.
Look for these comics on Sunday, and if you like what you see, please feel free to like, share, and/or comment. I ‘preciate it.
“Look and think before opening the shutter. The heart and mind are the true lens of the camera.”
– Yousuf Karsh
It used to be that people would give me strange looks when I mentioned that I took pictures on my fourth-gen iPod. “Don’t you have a phone?” they would ask, slightly taken aback. “Does that work okay for you?”
While it’s true that many late millennials and generation Xers have easy access to the newest in technology Continue reading The art of taking poor-quality photos
Perhaps not the best poem to start off a new school-year with, but I suppose it’ll do.
My poems are just
empty strings of words
They don’t rhyme like
everybody secretly thinks they
Cause they’re just thoughts
pulled out of the crevices in my
My head isn’t the way
it ought to be
Thoughts move a lot slower
and faster than they used
And panic threatens to
eat me when I
When I sleep the sky
I wake up twenty-three times
in the early morning
Because my brain forgets
which house I am sleeping
Today it’s the corner
of my friend’s
I don’t sleep in my own house
anymore because it’s empty
Just like my poetry
the sheets never quite wear
And yet they’re still in disarray
when I struggle to wake