"I got something to say, I have a story to tell"

I got something to say, I have a story to tell

It isn’t that I don’t know how, it’s just that I’ve not thought it out,

So throw me in amongst the lowbrow flavor, not all savors the stout,

but if you’re going to stay then I got a poem to sell.

Now quiet yourselves down ‘cause I’m not going to yell

My verse is rehearsed, but I’ll give it to you raw.

If you’re here to stay then you’ll see what I saw.

You’ll see I got cerebral thoughts sharp as a claw,

you see, because there’s no need to cut up a draft or edit.

It’s in the clause that you must pause if haven’t yet read it.

Some poets cannot commence, the anxiety of influence forbids it.

Although prose flows, rhymes show up like truants who missed it.

Now, I suppose the grade’s too steep for the students,

so if you please, teach with bits, pieces, rudiments,

and utter without stutter or clutter. Tell us it takes time to summit

the climb or into the gutter is where you will plummet.

Word of the day: from a random page in the dictionary...

-  lessor - def: a person who gives a lease; landlord

"Antiques in the Attic"

Below is one of the first "best" sonnets I've written, back when I was new to the art, and now I feel like this is a good time to put it out there. Reason being, down in Texas over Christmas break we did a lot of looking through old stuff, things that have sustained their sentimental value through four (or five depending on the person) city and state relocations.

It’s all in the kin. It’s all out of trust.

Sifting through old trinkets seems pragmatic.

If it’s out with the new, brush off the dust,

get in touch with antiques in the attic.

They’re under attack from blunders and raids.

I’m afraid the best won’t be left for last.

Sporadic accolades act out of aid

and addiction infected from the past blast.

Combine the mind’s confines with the priceless

treasures with measure only to find worth

and value in the small pleasures. I confess,

I’m blessed with this life, this time, this earth.

Something priceless is similar to dirt.

Life isn’t suffering but sure do hurt.

Word of the day:

- ostensible - def: apparent, seeming, professed

"Curiosity: life after art"

Respiration is his enmity.
He sits alone, waiting with several chairs,
aging magazines [empty], full of despair.
His listless physic requires remedy.
The aura's clamor clings to his skin,
lingering as sticky unconditioned
climate air.
                   Suddenly he's mise en scene,
aloft, in the portrait. The ascension;
atop the crag he submits to the gods
that grant him peace [briefly]. Breathing deeply
before being lent patience, discreetly
descending through the clouds, but down he trods
and leaves the frame.
                                   He exclaims, "I don't need 'em!"
and, again, breathes in that thin sense of freedom.
His life before the clime had been weary,
but art became his apothecary.


Word of the day
- vamoose - def: to go away quickly; to leave hurriedly

"Anew Criticism"

It is what it is; nothing more, a frame
and dried paint, by an artist, with a name,
an overzealous yet underwhelmed one.
It is what it is; it is musical
if you see further, it is beautiful
if you read beneath, ever so seldomly,
       the contours, imagery and landscape.
Create a context, its energy, and translate.


Words of the day:
- preponderate - def: to surpass others by becoming more influential, powerful, quantitive, important, predominant. OR def: to be heavier; to sink at a downward incline, regarding balance.
- lout - def: person who is ill-mannered, a boor, a flout, or [by treating others as so] contemptible

COMM 110: one fun assignment!

Transcript—Hypocrisy and Firewood

                Good day my fellow classmates, for the next few minutes I’ll be speaking on behalf of the deceased wilderness to inform you all of some illegitimacies of environmentalism on a political scale. In recent years environmental activists (i.e. green advocates) have proposed litigation and passed legislation which claims to help preserve our forests for the future, and do help to an extent, but these new laws are perhaps too encumbering and prohibitive of other, what we’ll call, anti-green businesses such as the logging industry.

                Before continuing I must note that these activists’ ideology in general isn’t invalid, but their agenda can be clouded by passion and subsequent stubbornness. With that said there are flaws in and of these, pardon my colloquial politically incorrect terminology, tree-hugging hippies’ philosophy ironically embedded in their unwavering belief in conservationism. These hippies are delegating too much attention to this one axiom, arguing for the fundamental “right to life” principle, when they should be allocating their research and diversifying their focus to a wider array of issues. However good-natured their perceived advocacy is the overarching political stance of a stereotypical tree-hugger is fallacious because of unincorporated and unforeseen variables.

                There are two variables, which have been unaccounted for in activists’ political activity and seemed to have circumvented their stance, include the proliferations of 1) the infectious mountain pine beetle and 2) fertile destitution from drought. With these two variables coinciding there is palpable risk for environmental cataclysm, most commonly resulting in forest fires. There are two specific examples of such destructive results, which have just come to pass in our country over the 2012 summer season: 1) the Little Bear fire which, according to NASA’s Earth Observatory, burned over 37,000 acres destroying over 200 residences in southeast New Mexico, and 2) the Waldo Canyon fire which burned about half the acreage of the Little Bear but destroyed at least 500 homes in and around Colorado Springs, Colorado.

                The Waldo Canyon inferno was a bigger deal, getting more media play given Colorado’s population density in that area, because of the accrued destruction in the fire’s path, but the New Mexico fire in an equally lethal fashion to the environment physically affected a vaster area. On a personal level it caught my family’s attention because the Little Bear fire came within several miles of our cabin in Ruidoso. These two cases having striking environmental conditions such as similar dry climes, comparable elevations, presence of the pine beetle pestilence in their forests, and government restrictions of deforestation. Thus, the forest fires spark easily [given the drought], spread [given the exorbitance of dead trees that the beetles have inhabited and consumed], sustain [given the legislation in effect and place], and increase the possibility of larger issues in the future. My point is some environmentalist’s political intervention may inadvertently do more harm than good. The trees’ so-called “rights” they advocate are fundamentally flawed because the logging industry does have a positive purpose, which merely seems destructive, because in reality at this day in age deforesting is necessary to remove dead trees in specifically afflicted areas so our environment can be safer.

                Before I take my leave lambasting let me placate the cause I’m arguing against. To all of you listeners, don’t deny the greenies, hippies, tree-huggers, environmentalists, or whatever associative appellation’s well-to-do push for progress, indubitable efficacy, and unyielding passion. I’ll admit a fact that is hardly accrediting to my reputation; those who know me think of me as a novelty hippie. That’s me, so I suppose once I’m done you can know of me as a little hypocrite [hippie-crit] and then think what you want. Nevertheless, for the sake of the living population of people, we have to take action, analyze some legislation and repeal or amend the porous laws, and uproot the trees whose souls are with the gods. Truth is; many forests have countless trees that are dead yet still standing. Trust number two is; these decaying trees aren’t alone, they’re found in families of forests, and these forests are everywhere! Truth number three is; they make great firewood. Sometimes, even if the idea seems counterintuitive, we must rely on our societal axioms, as if embracing the beetles’ sense of survival, by reverting to indulging in and relishing from over-consumption.

Metextempore

Remember that promise? Neither do I.
Reason being the argument I have
On hand against aforementioned hairs halved,
Sanctioned blurbs, a mitigation for my side
Dissembling the prior statement's merits.
Those serene matters, within the stare's eye,
Of affluent discord the ear inherits
Are things with which cannot be compared by
Such suppositions, therefore order is
En via, palpably. You hearing this?
Absolutely, but not buying a bit of
Each terse remark, though the fire they lit up
Will cease to extinguish and kindle out
These platitudes, defined as middle brow.


PS:
word of the day:
exiguous-- [def. or i.e.] scanty, little, small, meager

Two: 101

I'm awfully confused by the blogsite's understanding of time. I was just looking at my first blog, which is simply terrible, and it was apparently written on the eve of New Year's, which is wrong! Oh well, fukc komputers. Pardon me, "Take It Down" is what I'm listening to.
Gotta change the subject. I've been obsessed with these The Wailin' Jennys, check out their 40 Days and Firecracker LPs, since my beloved cousin Beth has been so kind to me. I got two of their aforementioned albums over Thanksgiving while at our family cabin in Ruidoso, New Mexico. That break was a blessing, as is this, but fukcin family is funny yet frustrating as fukc because I'm apart of it. Yah'mean? I inherited all of their faults.
Which I recognized, or rather re-cognized, because today I packed everything, planning my return for Montana tomorrow morning, a Thursday, at 7am, and just before I planned on going to sleep my father walks into the room, the house's study with not much more than four walls, two doors, two bookshelves, one dart board, one fish tank, and unaccounted miscellany. My brother Graham, often referred to as Grump or Grum [but not Grammie, don't ask] or GrA-ham or give me some time to think of other pseudonyms...and I were enjoying a game of darts. He was beating my ass, including one game to 301 and two to 101, until finally on the third, more brief game I got him somehow in one turn; in a game, first to 101, I had three darts and hit a triple 20 with the first, a double 20 with the second, and a 1 with the third. Pure luck. Yeah, I recognize I still have a losing record overall.

Anyways, there were many other things that happened today. I woke up at eleven again, quite a late tick I tell ya. We went straight to Sonic, at first planning to go to a Waffle House but thought better of it at the last moment, and got some breakfast there; a croissant sausage sandwich, french toast sticks, french fries and an awfully scringy coffee. Then we went back to the Half-price Bookstore where I purchased Dickens' Hard Times, some book about The Evils of Revolution in the philosophy section, and a short compilation of poems by T.S. Eliot. Then we went to an outlet mall in Cypress, TX, some 'burb just outside Houston's limits, and I got myself some quality, relatively cheap running shoes. Excuse my life in excess for now, I'm living with my parents! No excuses, though. Anyways, then we went to hit a few golf balls at the Top Golf corporate facility. Look it up because it's a great place for gaming, a comparable metropolitan hobby to shooting in the country, good stress relief. Then the rest proceeded...

I'll let my limited audience know that, from here on out, I'm going to cater to them by being more informative by providing oddball pieces of newfound things, such as music, books, movies, other arts, geographies or demographics, blah facts, idioms or proverbs, etc., words, altruism, straight up, and facts that haven't to do with me.

First, for one, for now I suggest to you, since they're playing the background, The Wu-Tang Clan's Enter the 36 Chambers album. I won't go on about it since all y'all niggas gotta listen firsss to go figure, yo.

Then, secondly, I have a word, a;
Word of the day which will become of theme of this blobger, so I feel inclined to share:
Proclivity--from the Oxford English language lexicon stack--def: a tendency to choose or do something regularly; an inclination or predisposition toward a particular thing:

One quatrain

You wouldn't dare take a bite off my slam

Which, somewhat reminiscent to a sand-

Wich, is slathered with peanut butter and,

Although you appear awf'lly jelly, jam?

p.s. pardon one broken promise, but, if I may, here's a little some-willy-nilly-and silly-somethin' from that same evening said promise was put forth...