Reflections on Happiness

Denver

2009-10-25T09:37:00.001-07:00

You can smell the heat here

like dog food factory

evaporated acid rain,

it rises from our skin,

our bodies dissipating

into a drug that will save us

we build buildings

from marble--

banks,

courthouses,

shopping malls,

constructing coliseums,

citadels to consumerism

we beat the raw earth

with the jackhammer,

the steel-toed boot

and the Italian leather shoes

so we can make

bastions of discrimination

where the homeless made their homes;

we have replaced

the grey wolf

with one

in an Armani suit

who carries a briefcase

and eats poor children

for dinner,

we deny this reality

as we give away table scraps,

putting a bandaid

on a wound

that will not heal

because we won't stop sucking the blood

and we're thirsty

for transfusions,

feeding a disease

that will always want more

until we quiet

the hunger in our bones

and feed the spirit

hippie

2009-08-03T19:02:00.001-07:00

There's a tattoo

on your forehead

that says

Jesus saves

but will he save me?

I am the devil

in my blue dress

and leather shoes,

my skin a map

of woodstock,

the 80's

and following the Grateful Dead

all the way through,

my feet callused

from marching for peace,

my face

tells you stories

of peace pipes,

acid trips,

a night in jail

for disobeying a society

that cannot hold me;

you cannot tie down

someone made of the wind;

I travel

from city to city

spreading

peace,

love,

vegetarianism

and communal living,

I am the messenger

for the earth's wisdom,

a shaman

to heal humanity;

I wish to heal your soul

yet you despise me

because there's dirt on my skin

from decades

of being

what you refuse to become.

And your Jesus will not

save me;

for I am a heathen

in your eyes,

your religion

the purity drug

for which I am

the antidote;

I am not a wall you can bend

with your beliefs;

nor am I

something you can mold

like untamed wire;

accept me

and my soul;

I have been

forever society's canvass,

the artwork of the streets,

the exhalation

of tortured youth.

smog

2009-07-26T11:47:00.000-07:00

homelessness

takes in a breath,

being your refuge,

you develop your

identity

as a street corner,

a sidewalk,

a piece of tomorrow

we always savor...

you ask for salvation,

for love, joy,

spirit,

the air is your soul

and the river your home;

we find ourselves

fighting with rubberbands,

devouring

pain in an instant...

I try

and draw your face

with a ballpoint pen

and words

from the bottom of my shoe...

this is my place, too.

woman

2009-07-14T22:23:00.000-07:00

There are no sins

to wash from my flesh;

I am not

the body lying next to you;

I am not

the mind you fill

with ideas;

I am not

an empty jar

for you to fill

with your paint;

you cannot progress

until you liberate me;

mankind

shall forever be held back

by the slowness of my steps

until you walk with me.

My hands are strong

from creating the world;

my feet are tough

from marching

for your liberation;

my mind wise

from demanding peace.

I am strong enough

to trust

with the future;

do not

take away my liberties

or you will fall;

for I am

your foundation.

anger

2009-07-14T15:02:00.001-07:00

There's smoke on the horizon,

dust from the road

flies up

like crippled wind,

caught in the moment,

lingering

like dirt under your nails

we are angry

for reasons we can't define,

letting leaves fall

like broken promises,

we try and love each other,

but you don't want

to be in the wind

and I cannot

pick up stones;

I try to sing you

like a song

but there are drum notes

on the page;

you're just leftover karma,

an unfinished symphony

to create anxiety,

to torment me

and twist my mind

like a wet rag,

wringing out

all the air,

the water,

the life,

I'm so fucking confused,

I'm through with the crystal ball,

done with the rage,

fucking tired

of your accusations;

I care

and that's why I'm angry;

because I care

and you don't.

Poetry in motion: photos of the Santa Fe Arts District

2009-07-10T20:48:00.001-07:00

This is perhaps one of the most colorful communities I have been to. Its full of life, art, crime-- the arts district on Santa Fe in Denver, Colorado, is truly remarkable. It contains a delicate balance between the preservation of the Chicano culture and the appreciation of art. Not far from here is a large area of section-8 housing, community projects such as organic gardens and even a free build-it-yourself bike shop.

Foundation

2009-07-08T19:33:00.001-07:00

We're too ignorant

any more

to be trusted with secrets;

nature has broken us

because we will not bend,

and here we are

reigned in

by the spirit,

captivated

by false dreams,

illusions

of our purpose;

we chase fairy tales,

exchanging reality

for lies on paper,

ignoring

the human condition,

likening

our antithesis

to our history,

escaping karma

like a bad middle name,

tossing morality away

with the truth;

we place our ear to the ground

to find a heartbeat,

to find our lost treasure,

but its all buried

under skyscrapers,

houses,

dynasties of failure;

we want to understand

but we can't;

for we have forgotten our feet

and now stand in space,

existing

without purpose.

Prostitute

2009-07-06T21:48:00.000-07:00

I am the sign on the corner

that says "open"

in red, warm letters,

my thighs are sore

from last night's paycheck

when someone came inside me

and used me

like a credit card

shopping mall

2009-07-06T21:30:00.001-07:00

You can't find your place here;

its too easy to get lost

among the forest

of roads,

cars passing by

filled with people,

a river of life dries up

as industry sets in,

making way

for fields of

shopping districts

and excuses

for unhappiness;

the rearview mirror

is clouded with smoke,

ghosts

of a past never defined

by our history books,

but lived

by the brave

who live longer than their stories,

casting themselves

to the wind,

not losing their place,

but solid,

immovable as sand.

Allergic to Wal-Mart

2009-07-05T18:22:00.000-07:00

So my mother decided to take me and my sister out grocery shopping. We did the usual health-food store sweep, then decided to go to Wal-Mart, where my sister was determined to find better prices for the things that she needed. Being the social activist, I resolutely decided I wasn’t going to contribute to Wal-Mart’s corporate money feed, so I chose to see exactly what was so “great” about the store.

I believe I have discovered one of the many things wrong with America. Though this should come as no surprise, it is a fascinating discovery. Walking through the grocery department, I decided to find organic produce. This being a super center, it should have everything, right? I found organic spinach, and that was about it. More interesting, however, was that many of their prices on produce were higher than those of the grocery store we had just come from, some of them even 2 or 3 times as much. Along with this was my realization of the fact that this is where most of the American diet originates. Proportionately, the produce department was much smaller than the meat and dairy department, and more interestingly, the processed and boxed foods aisles comprised the majority of the grocery department. Proportionately to this, many of the customers shopping these aisles were heavyset, many of them severely overweight.

On to the clothing aisle. Walking through a Wal-Mart clothing aisle is severely depressing for anyone who has even the slightest fashion sense. Items are on cheap hangers on cheap racks, or folded in mass quantities on shelves. They look as though they came straight off the assembly line to the store; there is no personality. A quick walk through here reveals that the majority of dyes the manufacturers use is riddled with formaldehyde and other synthetic dyes. There is hardly a clothing item over $20.00, and it all looks as though it’s made to fit the plus-size people shopping the grocery aisles.

After being in Wal-Mart for 20 minutes, having had a cold for the past few days, I began to feel my symptoms worsen. My eyes started itching and my sore throat felt worse. As soon as I walked outside, I felt better. I realized that it was most likely the indoor air pollution—the overpowering fry smell from the resident McDonald’s which overpowered the produce department; the formaldehyde from the clothing department, and the overall plastic smell from the entire store. The synthetic air was just too much for me to handle.

If we wish to change America, we must change the way that we consume; we must think of the impact of our choices and work towards more responsibility and environmental stewardship.

Ignorance

2009-07-03T13:20:00.000-07:00

There's a revolution

inside of me

that's not afraid

of the wind;

there's a strong beat

inside of me

that challenges

hurricanes;

and I banter

looking for pieces

of clay

among snowdrifts,

trying to build a world

out of earth;

for we dwell

in the mud

of our own ignorance,

constantly reaching

for a vine,

a rope,

a hand

to save ourselves

and suddenly

we realize

this mud,

this clay

is our home,

our skin

and only by setting root

in this deep river of doubt

can we produce from pain

the strength to create

a world of beauty;

only through this

can we live...

with the conviction

to lift out of ignorance

our own beings

A call to action

2009-07-03T13:10:00.001-07:00

We rise,

dawn illuminating

our chosen path;

we walk

on golden sand,

emerging with

a beautiful spirit

and joyful song;

let our voices serve

as a beacon of hope

for humanity;

let our spirit become

the marrow in your bones,

let us become

the music in your veins

as we resound

with the rhythms of peace

as it flows through our blood,

giving us

freedom from suffering,

allowing happiness

to become

the power

that unites us,

and as we walk

this chosen path

we leave behind

the footprints of obstacles,

advancing

toward the sacred goal

of everlasting peace

White walls

2009-07-02T21:28:00.000-07:00

There are too many

white walls

left bare in our houses,

and we put up mirrors

to remember

our own faces

set against

the backdrop

of boring white walls,

lifeless

like our bottle of pills,

like dreams

set on fire,

pain easing into us,

a welcome enemy

because we can mask it

with our Tylenol

and cheap addictions...

we can't sleep

with the taste of guilt

or anger

so we burn ourselves,

cauterizing

the flesh of the soulm

burning away

the bear trap

on our minds

that we like to call

ethics

and we let objectivism seep through

like nuclear waste

giving us

a cancer

that rattles our bones,

like a hawk

taking away our bodies;

we say death

is the end

because we're selfish

about time

like a currency

we track between nations,

so put your face

on a coin.

Bodhisattva

2009-07-01T09:18:00.000-07:00

We emerge,

children of the sun,

the bright youth

anticipating

each new day;

we make this promise to humanity:

we shall not fail,

for we are stronger

than the warrior,

determined to defeat

whatever darkness

confronts the human spirit,

our hears

shining diamonds

that reflect

the light

of indominable hope;

for we shall not be swayed

by the currents of hatred;

nor shall we drown

in the waves of destruction;

we stand,

our cause

a solid column of stone,

unmoved

by hurricanes,

for if you move the earth,

we will rise from the ground

so as to encounter

our mission,

our passion for life

is the vehicle

that shall end

mankind's suffering.

Human Revolution

2009-07-01T09:10:00.000-07:00

We walk,

bearing the golden orb of humanity,

carrying on

with undefeatable strength

to complete a mission more impossible

than any battle...

we are the warriors of peace,

stripped

of our armor,

marching each day

at dawn...

every new sunrise

a day of hope

where happiness will blossom

in the life of one person

who will change the world

with a life

filled with peace

evolution

2009-06-30T21:22:00.001-07:00

A handful of creation,

we exist,

nimble creatures

set on creating

paper from thought,

emerging

like words out of stone,

we are numb

to a world of criticisms,

we count minutes

and eternity

in another,

concentrating

on our subtle

differences...

the incantations

of our environment,

evolution is this way...

slow and cruel,

torturing us

with anticipation;

we need a break through,

we see a spot on the wall

and call it passion,

finding art

in an industry for youth,

manufacturing our lives

from religion,

torture,

eternity...

thoughts

on a pedestal

for us to admire

as our own

as we search

for the antithesis

of our passions

in every day life;

we groan from the pain

of tireless lovemaking

pent up

in the unrequieted

passions of the flesh,

coming to a halt

as we realize

we are human;

we stand

baffled

by the disappointment

of our shortcomings,

cursing god

and revealing

the truth

Apathy

2009-06-29T20:15:00.000-07:00

We can only forget

for a little while

until it hurts

and we take our pain

in tears and pills,

we're too numb

and its hard to feel

when you don't care,

we give up too soon

as we become weaker

we starve for simplicity

in a tangle of ropes

and everyone

is pulling;

we need to be free;

the youth have open sores

that need healing;

let us out of the cage,

let us fly,

let our words

change the world.

War

2009-06-29T19:49:00.000-07:00

We stand here,

our emotions hand-picked

out of a box of crayolas,

we are molded metal

slowly bending itself

to become

the children of poverty,

lust,

we are the muted jewels

that can no longer

shine;

we fall slowly

like moths into a jar,

we are creatures

robbed of our peace,

our places taken

by alibies,

tears of blood

falling

into the hands

of our enemies,

our pain,

our trust,

our misfortune

being thrust

int a grab-bag

of happiness

Idol

2009-06-28T21:26:00.001-07:00

I watched you

and saw

all that I ever dreamed

inside of you;

the pain,

the happiness,

the sorrow...

everything I ever knew

seemed to be bound

in a single

emotion

and now

I turn the page

and forget

Refugee

2009-06-28T09:49:00.000-07:00

Its restless,

the air around us,

life

is filled with confusion,

of questions

with feathers

and answers

with chains,

I want

to find my way,

but I'm scared

and

without a light,

I know who I am,

but I'm afraid of the wind,

yet free from it,

and as the currents

carry me,

I find myself

floating on a raft

of dignity,

stranded

with other refugees,

praying

for the waves

to take us to safety.

Into the night

2009-06-27T10:00:00.001-07:00

The air is thick here,

black velvet collecting static,

we are humbled

by technology,

replacing

a human heart

with things we can

repair;

we place beads on a string,

hoping

we don't come to an end,

that the thread won't run out,

we're uncertain

of what the future holds,

blotting out the stars

with industrial lights,

forcing us to look

to human stupidity

to answer our questions,

satisfying our appetite

for ruin;

we die,

leaving a legacy

of disaster,

letting the dawn come

after we're gone

each day darker.

1984

2009-06-27T09:28:00.001-07:00

I commit thought crime,

driving passion

from a syringe

into the crux

of what I am supposed to be--

fighting materialism

for our downfall,

purchasing time

with my pen,

absorbing the heat

of a city that never sleeps,

for it draws on drugs

for entertainment,

letting the human spirit

die in the gutter;

the persistence of memory

becomes just a painting

as we deny

the reality of our lives,

we have amputated our history,

maiming our fortune

as we slander old age;

our bodies become cancerous,

and then we tie a ribbon around our disease,

pumping dollars

into a corporate machine,

but holding them on our backs,

the value of protest

coming secondary

to the dollar;

we are not free

but ignorant of our chains.

A call to youth

2009-06-27T08:59:00.000-07:00

A clock ticks by hours,

deciding fate

by the second,

we run on a path

of twisted karma

we thought we threw away,

only to dig up old bones,

pieces of our past

left behind

like miles on a road,

we run on the asphalt,

following

the little white lines,

perforating weakness

with heavy footprints;

we march into the sunrise;

taking our weapons--

our staff of hope,

the spear of light,

fighting off injustice

with wisdom

The activist

2009-06-26T22:23:00.000-07:00

I am a triangle,

a traveller

bent over an axis

of hope

stuck on a road

toward peace,

the highway of my life

like a snake

coiled around injustice,

choking off apartheid,

digesting hatred

like fate

where we've lost the thread;

I want to cut

the lifespan

of indignity,

to chop off intolerance

like an extra limb,

to leave the body of humanity

bold, naked and enlightened,

no longer mangled

by war,

nourished by peace

free to be

what it is.

carpe diem

2009-06-26T22:17:00.000-07:00

We put bandages

over our indignity,

selling confidence

like day-old newspapers,

placing the future

in a cardboard box

only to be put

on a shelf

with the wine from our funeral