Amorphous

*Amorphous

The way it twists and turns
has me looking upside down,
down the right, up the left,
through a foggy glass, and a warped window
to see it in the right way.
But it changes, and the feeling is like metal;
sometimes it's so cold my hands hurts
or so warm that i just melt to the touch.
The way my eyes hit it
is the way the sun hits gold or
the way the sun hits a black shirt.
It either burns bright
or takes in the light.
It changes before our eyes,
and can hurt to the touch
or stretch us until we break,
it can take all the heat away from us
until the cold makes us crack
or it gives us so much to handle
we don't know what to do.
But there will never be a void where it should be,
the broken pieces either be on their own
or come together again.
So don't let go, no matter what it does.
Because it's stronger. I know about
the twisted shapes, the warped glass,
but hold on because there's a way
to melt those shapes away
and change. So hold on.
It's like the metal, it can take the heat away
when touched, or be so hot that you melt.
But love is the strongest being.
Amorphous but strong.
And no matter what happened,
no matter what happens, it will be there
to open your arms, your hands, your world.
You'll find who you need and the shape you want.
You'll find its beauty. Like the metal it will give.
It will take. And it will give.

*This poem was written by my friend who wants to be anonymous

You

You:
You don't understand
That I can't breathe
Watching me wear
My heart on my sleeve
You never notice
A single thing
Because you don't understand
That I can't breathe

And You:
You're pissing me off
Beyond belief
Sticking around when
I need you to leave
It's already over
Which you can't see
Because you don't understand
That I can't breathe.

Then there's You:
I can only hope that
You remember me
Since you're this far away
These mountains in between
And when you come home,
It won't be for me
But without you, I know
That I can't breathe.

"When a Psychic Applies for College"

Author's Note: The character in this story is from a novel that I plan to write at some point. All you really need to know about her is that she has multiple psychic abilities, including the ability to talk to animals (sort of).


Tabitha glared at her computer screen upon seeing the latest supplement prompt she had to write:

“How will you contribute to the sense of community here at our college? (Limit: 300 to 500 words)”

It wasn’t quite the same as the other supplement prompts she needed to write, but it was similar. Not similar in subject, but similar in that it would be impossible for her to come up with an answer that was entirely truthful.

She wasn’t exactly in the mood to write it now, but then, she doubted that she ever would be in the mood. Reluctantly, opened up another word document. First, she copied and pasted the prompt into the document. Then, she spent the next ten minutes staring at the prompt until she was no longer even reading it, or even looking at it. Now, she was simply staring past it. There was only one thing going through her mind: How the heck do I answer that?

Her attention was diverted by some movement to her right. Glad for the distraction, she glanced to her right to find that her cat had jumped up next to her and was now looking at her inquisitively.

Despite the cat’s coloring (entirely black), her name was Tabby. This had been Tabitha’s mother’s idea, who thought it was funny--she never seemed bothered by the fact that she’d practically named her cat after one of her daughters.

Judging from the look on Tabby’s face, the cat wanted to speak with her. Tabitha was better at talking to animals since she’d discovered the ability, but she still required contact to at least start the conversation. She began to pet Tabby.

Actually, it would be a bit of a misnomer to call this a conversation. Technically, Tabitha would be directly communicating with Tabby, but they wouldn’t be talking, per se. Animals didn’t think in terms of words, so it wouldn’t be possible for Tabby to actually talk to her. Instead, Tabitha would be interpreting Tabby’s feelings; she would also help Tabby to interpret her words as feelings.

The first feeling Tabby sent her was one of curiosity. Tabitha decided that she was wondering what was annoying her.

“It’s this stuff I need to do for college,” Tabitha thought to Tabby.

Tabby felt confusion. Tabitha thought for a moment; it would be difficult to explain what “college” was to a cat, especially since Tabby probably didn’t have any idea what school was.

“Next year, I’m not going to be living here anymore. I’ll have to start living on my own. But first I have to convince someone to let me live at their place.” Tabitha figured that that was as close to an accurate explanation as she was going to get.

Tabby sent a sudden pang of hurt. Tabitha thought she could almost hear Tabby exclaim, “You’re leaving!?”

Tabitha smiled sadly at the cat. “Yes. I’ll visit, though, don’t worry. And I’m not leaving yet.”

There was yet more curiosity from Tabby, but this time, Tabitha knew she was wondering why she had to leave.

“Well, would you have wanted to live with your mother after you grew up?” Tabitha asked her.

Tabby seemed to understand that, but she would still miss Tabitha.

“Yeah, I’ll miss you too,” Tabitha told her. After that, Tabby didn’t seem to have anything else she wanted to know, so Tabitha stopped petting her and went back to (not) writing her supplement.

After about fifteen minutes, during which she’d managed about three sentences, she began to feel a little tickle in the back of her mind. That meant that she had a vision waiting for her. Unlike in movies, her visions didn’t jus over-come her all of a sudden no matter what the situation. She could actually ignore them for quite awhile, if she wanted to, but if she ignored them for too long, then it gave her a giant headache. Besides, sometimes they were pretty important, so she did her best not to ignore them. But she had learned that when she was seeing a vision, it looked like she was asleep. People tended to ask questions when other people randomly fell asleep, only to wake up a moment later. Fortunately, there was no one around except for Tabby, so she allowed herself to succumb to the vision.

At first, all she could see was a piece of paper--the text was blurry. But it slowly cleared, revealing itself to be a letter from her number one choice for college, Frances College. Once the smaller text became clear, Tabitha could see that it was an acceptance letter!

Once she made this realization, the vision ended, and Tabitha felt her eyes snap open. She smiled. Frances would accept her! Though her abilities annoyed her to no end sometimes, they did have their perks. She couldn’t believe she would actually get to know who had accepted her without even mailing the application out.

“Tabitha? How’re your supplements going?” Her mother had appeared in the living room and just like that, her good mood disappeared. Despite knowing that she would be accepted to her number one choice, she would still have to apply to all of the schools she had been planning on applying to. If she only applied to Frances, her mother would kill her. And it wasn’t as though she could tell her that she knew for sure that she would get accepted.

“Fine, Mom,” she grumbled. That seemed to satisfy her mother, who exited the room again. Tabitha begrudgingly resumed her brainstorming, even though she knew it would be for nothing.

Squidgy Little Poem-Nugget

I know that best
does not mean all
but the sooner I trip
the further I fall
as the colours bleed
and sink on through
I give only my best
to you.

The True Meaning of Vanity

Walking by people,
Sometimes we don't notice,
Sometimes we do;
Sometimes we judge,
And sometimes we fear;
Fear the words hissed through other mouths,
Fear the impressions gathered in other minds;
Terrified by what we can't hear.

When we walk into a locker room
Hearing the fast talk that means nothing,
Hearing the quick interjection of “like”
Filling the indiscernible babbling.
When we finally get a glimpse of this
we stand and see,
ourselves becoming,
bubble gum chewing
clique obsessed,
trash-talking,
unintelligent fools.

I can feel myself morphing,
transitioning,
My hair is becoming sleek,
The monthly hair cuts that tame any split ends.
I can feel the mascara,
And the thick liquid mask that is coating my face,
the obsession with looking in the mirror.

But theirs is not my reality.

I wear eye liner,
not mascara,
and get my hair cut every six months.
I only say like when I'm imitating someone,
and only look in the mirror to analyze what others may see.

But I can't help but notice
The ice clear complexions,
The perfect smiles,
Their expertly sculpted forms,
Their thin, tan arms;
Their desirability.

Their vanity haunts me,
Follows me,
Shrinks me.

I don't match up to this standard,
This ruler,
This expectation.

Every one of them reminds me that
I'm not good enough.
I'm not pretty enough,
I'm not confident enough,
I'm not the right type of girl.

Every glance aimed my way,
Each snap of their gum,
are stones pelted at me,
I am a child on the playground,
Others pelting stones,
merely for their own amusement.
All in what they would call good fun.


But I do say like,
and I do wear makeup,
and I do look in the mirror.

Is it that I am like her?
Do I sound like her?
Do others see me how I see her?
Similarities are everywhere so could it be,
that I am like the person that I swear is so not me?
Should I stop saying “like”
and wearing makeup?
Should I make more of an effort to emphasize the important things?
Should I share the fact that someday I
want to be something ?
Where others see vanity in me
There is insecurity.

Where there is her vanity,
There could be insecurity,
There could be fear,
There could be denial of an expectation
from a pressuring father,
There could be a struggle to find a place...

That is the answer.

When I look upon anyone,
even myself.

The answer is,
To the question I ask
when I look in the mirror
or upon the curtains that shroud someone's life
and attempt to judge...

Is that,
There could be.

There could be similarities between me
and someone I thought I hated.

There could be an alternative explanation
to why someone appears vain.

This Moment of Time

Verse1
I aint one of those rappers that sits and chills
good life and cars talkin’ ‘bout dollar bills
I aint a rappa’ that fills the head with shrills
I rap bout the ghetto outside the windowsill
The names Young Shepard, im back in my domain
on stage with the light hittin’ me wit the speed of a plane
ya see I don’t want a grammy and don’t want a tony
engrave this in ya head or just forget you know me
Im tryin’ ta chose a path so dat I can see light
all my life it’s just whites who wanna fight
well they don’t know what is like to live in a big city
get shot up on each and every block like 50
what ive gone through an seen in my life
nothin’ is eva’ perfect or precise
this story is deeper than rap, deeper than the game
now I’m on antidepressants to keep my brain sane
by far I neva got what I wanted
when I see somebody happy its like I’ve been haunted
I hate how people assume dat my rhymes are fake
a bullet none the less a fight I cant take
In Red Bank got challenged to a knife fight I came
we all live the same, Compton, New York, or Maine
like many I watched my mom drink cryin’ watchin’ the rain
my dad was neva’ around now dat he is its an
embarrassment to have his last name
Im just a lonely kid who spends his life rappin'
writin’ bout da mistakes that have happened
if you be so kind, In due time
Young Shepard steels the light in this moment of time

Verse2
The streets still take a tole on me after all these years
I see the fear, blood sweat and tears from my other peers
you say were now in a recession
but only the black dude get caught wit a gun in possession
you say now people don't got money there poor
14 long years of seein’ my motha’ drunk on the floor
cause bills weren’t paid, and she lost her job
dad was gone out workin’, but he couldn’t bring home nothin’
so I step up on my own slap the tears from my face
three months later I’m arrested with tears replaced with mase
that was just a mistake but I couldn’t live it down
I walk with embarrassment shame like a sad clown
couldn’t trust or ask nobody for nothin’
I will find my own way, doesn't that count for somethin’?
but gheah, I just waitin' for what the future holds
Im not stopping just cause cant afford heat so were in the cold
street life is bad death can unfold
only thing an educated man or women would know
Gang life is ruff don’t get in, you don’t wanna sell
can’t cha tell don’t rob no clientele
but gheah, I just try to make it another day
try to focus on what I love to do
and if that means writin’
how bout you
Its good though keeps me outta trouble and situations
Im an OG and this is ghetto information
If you be so kind, to find
Young Shepard steels the light in this moment of time

Short Story - In progress

My name will soon be forgotten, and this life will pass. But while I am here I have impact. While I am here, there are people that matter. There is hope in this world, and we are in a point in our lives when many of us believe that anything is possible. At least I hope the majority of us haven't had this hope smashed yet. There is a way that life can bludgeon the hope out of someone. But who are we without hope? Do we become a cynical migrating mass, with the dark de-sensitivity of the urbanized world. Does the individual stop mattering? Do the faces in the crowd blend in with the background? Do the names in the obituary bring somber consideration? Is there a point when even the friend stops mattering? Everything sacrificed for the benefit of self? In this dreary, oppressive world, I migrate, hoping that I will move through life without this cynicism and despair. I hope that my happiness will pervade through the ranks of mobile zombies, that are frozen to the core. This marks a point in my life, where I hope the bystanders will turn to me and see the light that illuminates my life, as people turn toward someone that is the only person dancing in a room. My name may not matter, but a life certainly has impact. I believe that one person can save a life, and this is why...

It was raining and there was no one else on the road, and the only thought passing through my mind, was my Driver's Ed teacher talking about hydroplaning. My knuckles on the steering wheel were turning white, and I could feel the disconnection between my vision and sensation that comes with lightheadedness. The spotty vision and the inability to focus on the road in front of me were also warning signs. Sometimes I forget to breathe. In times of great stress it is as if all thought it directed to the fear, even instinct for survival. When I catch the corners of my vision going black I catch myself remembering when I was younger, I can't say young yet, to when I would hold my breath when the car would pass cemeteries.
With the thinking of other memories, I have lost track of the road, like those few seconds of normal driving where you catch yourself wondering what you were just paying attention to, and where did the last couple of seconds of road go? What did they look like? This time however, the fear had warrant. This time, I was missing a corner. This time, I was driving of the edge of the road.
I went with the gut instinct of turning quickly to correct. Every lecture my dad ever gave me about driving in hazardous conditions was gone. Every rational thought was gone. There only remained the desperate need to get back on the paved road. But as I wrenched the wheel of the jeep I was driving , it was like I could visualize the tires loosing their grip on the pavement. The weight of the car swayed, and it's like it began to tip. That's when I consciously noticed I had stopped breathing. The trees began to tip, and my mind took a moment to marvel at the new angle, like a child hanging upside down from the monkey bars. I'd never thought that a car could roll, like really roll. Not just roll over like you think of bad accidents. But this, this felt like it should be a movie stunt crash, with a roll cage, and neck braces. The only thing was, this wasn't a movie. This was real. And because this was real I closed my eyes, like a child, my only defense against the pain I know was about to come. I didn't want to hear the crack of wood or the screech of metal...

I remember (waking up)? and feeling cold and wet. Colder than I thought the rain was. I didn't want to try to move because I was afraid I wouldn't be able to. Right then, I couldn't feel much of anything and I was afraid that if I moved I would permanently damage something. I was afraid that the pain would be greater than anything I'd ever felt before. I'd once seen a friend break her collar bone and scream an agonizing scream, one that was haunting me at this moment. I was afraid I had done much worse. When I was lying there in the rain in a contorted position, I don't even think it occurred to me how I was going to get out of there. I suppose that I was hoping that someone would come and find me. Danger wasn't a factor in my mind. The hard part, it seemed to me, had already passed.
I didn't begin to panic until I realized I was slowly loosing my vision. How much blood had I lost? Did I have a concussion? What did it feel like to get concussion? Should I try to move? There were sickening fingers of cold climbing up my stomach, and my mouth had gone dry, and it felt as if my head was detached from my body. There seemed to be a hallowing out in my stomach and a numbing in my chest. No one was coming for me. No one was on the roads. No one knew yet. No one could save me. No one was going to be my miracle.

If I hadn't finally found the strength from somewhere that I wasn't aware existed, I don't know if any one would have seen me. The car had gone off the road, and was hidden by the trees. I got partway out of the trees and I was covered in mud. I didn't think I could drag myself any further. I was almost positive that I had broken my leg. I didn't stop long enough to think that there might be danger in the fact that I couldn't feel my leg anymore. I couldn't move it.
At first I thought I had lost so much blood that I was seeing a mirage, that I was like the lost boys from Lord of the Flies who were going crazy, seeing waving images above the sand. But I kept blinking, and shaking my head, and looking back and away. But he was still there. I started to pull myself toward him, dragging my leg behind me, and pushing myself up every time my arms collapsed under the weight of my body. All I could see was him, the branches in my way didn't matter, the mud, the cold the rain. All I could think about was getting to him, because he was my only chance. I didn't wonder why he would be out in weather like this. All I cared about was that he could help me, he was the only one here. I made it so that I was lying half in the road, and then I couldn't go anymore. All I could do was hope that he would see me. I felt the air leaving my lungs, and I couldn't seem to fill them again.
I heard something, but I couldn't pinpoint what it was, it was like I was trapped under water, and there was no way to swim to the surface. I thought I felt something, but I couldn't be sure, it felt as if the rain had stopped, but I couldn't be sure. Maybe my entire body had gone numb now. I heard the noise again, and then there was nothing.

The next thing I remember is that I was staring at a ceiling, with lights flashing by. I must have been on a stretcher, and been in the hospital. It downed on me that this was an image so cliché it should have ripped from a screen. I wondered if my heart had stopped, but didn't want to consider the possibility. All I knew about hospitals was what I had seen or read. I'd never so much as broken my leg. And what was the metallic smell, that was making me think of industrial cleaner, that never smells clean, despite the title of cleaning agent.

Dream is so close to me

Airi stood by the phone booth as the simple spring rain lightly feel. The pavement rippled with every drop and she could see herself through the reflected trees.  The rain dripped off her umbrella, once a shade of dark grey the rain had melted it into a black, the white underside was staring to change as well. She may have felt the almost cold that surrounded her if it weren't for Michio.  

Perhaps hoping was out of the question now, but even as he walked away from her, she wondered perhaps it wasn't to late to wonder. The pavement had not yet absorbed the rain and it fell onto the mirror like surface more like a mist now, than it had when she had been trapped in the phone booth. Forced to wait it out she hadn’t stood there for long before he appeared over the road’s horizon. 

Ever unfazed by the rain as always, she though he would just continue down the road.  She thought he would just go on with his usual swagger, bag hung on one side casually gripping the umbrella in a way that honestly didn't do him much good. She couldn't help but press her face to the glass, but she looked away as he approached. At first she though he would pass her so she turned away. Then behind her she heard the click on the door. A red sleeved arm reached beside her and forced a second umbrella into her hands and then the door shut again.  Unsure of what to think she just stood there a minute, then she made up her mind. 

He supposed it was worth it after all. As he heard the sound of the door opening behind him. Still he kept up with his pace. The umbrella opened, the reflection before him. She smiled a bit. Perhaps she was right to wonder.  The rain faded to mist as she stood, and the trees shifted beside her. A spray of mist engulfed her with the changing wind, but she took no notice. A warmth around her was all he felt as she heard the rain drip from the trees, to her umbrella, then to the ground. Rippling around her shoes, it dissipated into the mirrored pavement. Barely audible he walked away, and she left him to his own thoughts. Yes, she was right to wonder and perhaps hoping wasn't out of the question either.

Brought up

Brought Up

I wasn’t brought up, to express my feelings
I wasn’t brought up, to cry when my cuts are bleeding
I wasn’t brought up, around gun fire
I wasn’t brought up, to look like a thug wit my attire
Who I am, is a poor black kid without much
who I am, is a poor black kid to be damed
because my plans keep failing
and i don’t know why
and when I ly
I just clinch my teeth and I try
I wasn’t brought up, to have the cops beat me for no reason
I wasn’t brought up, to cry when my cuts they be healin’
I wasn’t brought up, to have my education deduct
I wasn’t brought up, to believe in luck
I was raised, to believe in myself
I was raised, to be myself
so why do I feel like I’m so ghetto
so why do I think a different way
why do I not think before I say
this all makes me who I am today
I am a kid who falls in love to fast
fall through the cracks
takes in what he thinks
and doesn't realize the facts
Through this life Im on the highway to hell
this is just myself
I wasn’t brought up
to say on the streets and fail

Penguin.

Papaz song

Yo back in the day, lived a little kid stray
my mama would raise me, my pops would discipline me
I made so many mistakes in the past
I say its the last
Im disapointin’ to him like the the rest
their all locked away cause of sass
I resemble Uncle Ray well thats wat he would say
I say and do what I want to see if I can get away
why is it me God, why do I portray
Im left sayin’ a pare God has nothin’ ta say
I know he’s done his best to provide
when I see him its like tv and its live
he was neva around
at least I didn’t feel like he was?
he would be alone writin’ music
hopin’ he could send me out in the wild to be majestic
but arrested in what he wished I would neva’ become
Im tryin’ ta be what he wants but now im so wrong
Messed in the head and all these threats
im screwin’ up his life gettin sued and puttin’ him in debt
Deep down I thought I had his respect
no matter what he said I tried to understand his aspect
When he said he hated me it hurt so bad
I just tried to forgive and forget but again its my dad
I felt so said but I walked away like it never happened
my sister was hopin’ the police would just catch him
He tried to make his life so perfect
fool you’ve done nothin’ ta change
when you think you have it didn’t work
I! was the one left to hurt
you live your life with one little smirk
jerk I hope you rot in the dirt of the earth
All this pain inside, do you despise
you say you cry, you don’t feel no emotion
doesn’t occur to you about my feelings
It’s dwelling and

You always did your best to protect
thanks you for that
I tried to hold my rage in as best I can
but damn man now I cant hold it in
remember when mom started drinkin’ afta’ the divorce
car crashes, police came and used lethal force
I came to live with you dad that was my choice
you were better to live with than that situation
you kept threatenin to send me back
you thought I didn’t like it, I showed disrespect
well I accepted the lectures that I shall get
only thing I regret is thinkin’ you could teach me
how to be a man
all you taught me
is how to hate the world
I don’t share my feelings cause I could
when I want to I hear you callin’ me a word in the background
I’ve found to keep my thoughts to myself
no matter what my opinion was it was neva’ felt
so I had to delt with my problems on my own
it’s draggin’ me through a grave yard and signin’ off my tombstone
even when I can I wont
cause its a big don’t in my world
but after all those year
I felt like blood and sweat were never shed
So I made a big mistake and you got so mad
you said illegal things and promised a jab
you couldn’t hold back your rage
you need to be locked away
what the hell you call yourself a dad
you promised to send me back to mom and not look back
i hope you burn in hell
I wish somehow I could torture you myself

I couldn’t stand puttin’ down my own father for nothin’
this is somethin’
so big it could change if I love em
or bother with em
I don’t wanna be like you
so stop saying back in the day
“I easily tricked my mom
went places and got away”
If I was like you I’d be a fat lazy punk
who thinks he can take on anyone
You don’t even get the mental game of it
you only know the physical but legit
you don’t know what it’s like to wanna commit suicide
when it’s just not enough to sit and cry
so why do you think that you know me
how do you win all of these arguments
I would step into hell bow to the devil
decent to the abyss, death at high risk
you wouldn’t even change for your son
worship for your daughter
you loved Janice more than us
so tell me f’ up is that smarter
this is the part where I say
after all of those years you were there
but afta what you you put me through
who the hell cares
and if I see you after I leave
I would want you to stay away from me
I know you did your best, but accept
that your only son in world ain’t commin’ back
and I ain’t sorry

The Astrometry

Inspired by the art of www.shel-yang.deviantart.com

The Astrometry- By Jennifer Gerry

It was something that she had always wondered about. Why the clouds floated by her window, she would dream about the world beyond her. She could lightly hear Ayumu fingering, whatever it was. Just another one of his endless supply of odds and ends that did something. Although at least this time she had a guess. At least she knew it was some kind of lens. After all, she had seen him take it off the telescope. She could hear the light noise of the polishing cloth, formerly his pocket square, as he wiped the spot from the lens. The mid afternoon sun was lowering in the sky and she saw the change in the wind. The clouds drifted over them now. The glass ceiling of the atrium loomed over them and above its high dome the clouds drifted even higher. She wondered. Ayumu patiently ignored her distant wandering as she shifted her arms on the back of the sofa. Despite his polished appearance, his collar was popped and the fact that he was using his pocket square to polish a lens lead one to think differently of his nature.

A quiet demure person at heart he found Amami’s useless wandering so be rather relaxing, despite her outlandish behavior sometimes. Still he didn't have the heart to right his collar, at least with her there anyways. The palms brushed against the walls of the atrium as the air conditioning came on. The many plants inside needed tender care. That duty fell to them, however it was not a task to be taken lightly. Although he often found her mind to be rather blank, he couldn't help but think that Amami was well suited for the caring sort of job. He was nearly done with the lens now, and soon it would be dark enough to use the telescope. And then they would part, return to there dorms, to return the next day once agin to care for the plants. it was a routine he had found himself comfortable with and although there were few things that could get a response out of him, Amami was one of them.

She sighed a bit and looked down at him as he finished wit the lens and placed it back into the end on the telescope. Getting it into place, he gracefully sat back down on the sofa, and listened as Amami returned to her little dreamworld. The mint green pillow she had leaned on slid down the back of the sofa and came to rest beside her. She pushed herself up on the back of the couch as he attempted to refold his pocket square. It was something he did frequently, yet, he always found it better when she helped. “ Ayumu? Do you think that we will change as much as the clouds. I know things are going to change, your graduating this year. Still I like things like this.” He looked back down to his lap, re-concerning himself with the pocket square. “ Yeah, your right. It will be fine.”And once again, she lost herself in the shifting clouds.

The stars would be out soon.

Edited Photos