College Writing Crap

It always begins with…

What the hell am I writing about?

a question which cries college,

when did writing become a mission,

and grant merits,

from my point of view,

research is trivial,

this paper is minimal,

but why does it carry so much weight?

when the assignment is crap,

and you know it is,

you can’t take it seriously,

and why should you?

the instructors don’t realize the struggle,

taking on the role of a scribe,

“it’s college,” you tell yourself,

I have to finish this paper,

each paragraph is integral,

but my head aches,

the writer’s blockade persists,

as unwieldy expectations fill my noggin,

like a glass of cold milk,

opaque and dense,

sours if left on its own,

despite the nauseating smell,

a breakthrough comes,

clearing the finish line at the last minute,

perhaps making an ‘A’,

but then again that’s one class,

scribbling notes are policy,

English majors beware,

be ready for the nightmare,

the forest of the dead awaits you,

and if you’re not,

then I still pity you,

because pulling apart language is in your future,

long nights and brainstorms a-plenty!

a temptuous beast she is,

citation for that source please!

add a comma…here, here, and here;

red marks reminiscent of a crime scene,

it’s grammar not grammer…

why are typos all over the place?

oh yeah…it was 3am when my pencil stopped moving,

college keeps me up at nite,

it fills my veins with certainty,

as I enter in this classroom,

making the rounds,

I find my seat in front,

tuning into academic scripture.





Tragedy but Truth

There is a history I choose to see,

one mired in blame,

a tragic nature no one tries to comprehend,

but I have no choice,

because even inside…it is mine.

resonating in every syllable,

you’re my old life,

this my new life,


I cannot resemble that remark,

the ugly manifesto which just passed through your lips,

the verse that burns to the touch,

yet challenges my ferocity,

once truth swells,

it cannot be denied,

or the tool of ignorance,

immune to transformation,

death or termination,

even if I died today…that would not change,

and neither would I,

but within my range,

it’s tragedy but truth.



old and weary,

I am,

I was,

I will be…

humming in the halls,



providence right in front of my face,

shocked to see it,

a deer in headlights,

as the car collides,

crushes me completely,

like chances bursting around me,

I remain in this spot,

running in place,

as the answer to why alludes me,

like fleas on a dog’s back,


old and weary,

I am…

aging in invisible seclusion,

do I have a clue?

about where the rain falls or even when it’s wet,

banality chains me down,

and gravity disappears,

makes the years seem like nothing,

but now my senses register the bounty,

the reactions I missed,

the complications I threw away,

my hand is stretched out,

and my soul is ready to bear,


old and weary,

I am not,

and refuse to be.


Rogue Possibility

The possibility to change is a shady rogue,

it becomes foreign to me,

the possibility to connect,

letting go of old conventions,

I step back…

and look forward simultaneously,

slighting this oddity with my peripheral,

makes one aware of travelers,

ragged and wrecked,

a feeling preserved by denial,

a paperweight caked with soot,

revelry is not seen or experienced,

since my body is turned,

rendered inert,

at the opposite of all light,

but a sparkle gleams within,

it tickles the back of my neck,

suddenly bringing the rogue into my view,

beholding a sight unseen.






My Wordy Explanation for the X-Men:First Class Reboot

This all began when my close friend, Sean, asked me: “[I’m] Not really a comic (book) dude but seriously… you need to explain this whole first class x-men reboot to me…”

In response to his query, I replied: “okay…the modern approach to comic book movies (that has been successful) is to take the established character (in this case, the X-men) and plug him into an original story. The elements that are true to the comics are Xavier and Magneto’s relationship, and the formation of the group which occurred in the 1960’s. Other than that, numerous liberties were taken like having Havok and Banshee join the group before Cyclops, Angel (the girl with fly wings) in the film, and Azazel’s (the teleporting demon guy) membership in the Hellfire Club (the bad guy group). Both of these characters have existed for less than a decade and SHOULD NOT be in the story…period.

The way I see this issue is that comic book movies are never going to be exactly what you get from the book itself…and comic book fans shouldn’t expect that. It’s unrealistic; due to the fact that in RL (or Real Life) and movies, stories end and in comics, they don’t. The closest comic book movie to the comic (in my opinion) is Watchmen. Even though liberties were taken, they didn’t go against the original story or the lesson it had for its audience.

Granted, The Dark Knight and Iron Man were excellent movies but you’ll find nothing as close to the original content, due to the fact that it is so varied and victim to eighty years of continuity.

Agree or disagree?


Hello world!

My fellow bloggers,

Only to state the obvious, I’ve started a blog here on WordPress. I have two very valid reasons for doing so (or at least I think so…): one, to distribute the hundreds of thoughts I have streaming through my head at any given time, and two, to bolster the number of bloggers who actually have content worth hearing. This means I will post about a variety of subjects and provide observations which will hopefully provoke constructive conversations. In that vein, I will not profess to know everything pertaining to a topic, only my view and the possibility that it could enlighten others. In addition, I write poetry that I am not shy about posting.

Until next post!



An Enlightened Man

In the beginning a man cannot be knowledgeable,

only flexible enough to explore his physical space,

privy to the guise all humans have held,

forming his own mask,

an inevitable cost lies behind the curtain,

burns into the seams of a character,

sewn and worn in,

as outside entities make contact,

a man can pulse into them,

yet he doesn’t dictate their reaction,

an enlightened man breathes in a gestalt,

a community which could elevate him,

mold his untapped facets,

noting each modification,

an enlightened man sports a smile,

has found his comfort zone,

has made his supports solid,

or so he thinks…

an enlightened man lights the flame,

a blaze that can spark innovation,

as the heat spreads like a virus,

many share his prize,

while the bridge crumbles under others,

even an enlightened man has to watch them fall,

away from his connection,

ripping cherished feeling in furious fashion,

he suffers in silence as new skin grows,

too much lost,

an enlightened man expels his last line,

scars remain as part of his definition,

no longer fearing what he cannot control,

as the smoke floods the skies to his back,

he takes two steps forward,

and opens his heart once more…