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This is a college level tranfer course, the second in a series where we will examine the poetics of life lived on the ground...as in rough and tumble, as in America at war with herself. This is a world art alone makes sense of, an artist's work is a gift freely shared like air...sympathetic systems aligned, the the fictive or imaginary worlds of possiblity simply an inhale or exhale away. This class is an opportunity to close your eyes and believe.
9 comments:
Howl
I was 12
You were dying
I was young
You have lived a long wonderful life
I wasn’t ready to lose you
You were preparing me for the worst
I shut down and became a shell of myself
You were trying to reach out and say goodbye
It was hard for me to touch your old wrinkled skin, and look into your hollow eyes, and smell the rotting flesh that was taking over your body
I am sad that at 12 I couldn’t wrap my head around what was happening
I couldn’t let myself say goodbye because I only saw the negative
The positive was you were my Great Grandfather
The positive is that if my mother did not have me at 17 I would have never known you.
The positive is you were my Grandpa Charlie, the man that taught me so much at such a young age.
The positive is the fond memories that I will hold in my heart forever.
I was not available while you were living, but I am available forever to share your wisdom and love for life.
My son Logan Charles will always carry your name
I will always carry your heart.
I was young
I still am
You were caring
You had a bold smile
Wiser, older,
had been many places, had seen war
you protected me, supported me
then you were gone
it wasn’t your choice
they sent you away for months at a time
we became in secure
lies and deceit
fights and tears
and not ever did I walk away
time still goes by
hurtful memories do not fade
somehow your love almost makes it go away
your sensitive
it covers up your evil side
your thoughtful
it masks your carelessness
you make me feel safe
and you make me feel insecure
somehow I still find myself by your side every night
I look at you and smile inside
I also cringe inside
How powerful the good things are
To make me disregard the past
I still could love you forever
I could also remember those hideous things forever
I will stand by your side
I trust you will stand by mine
I don’t want to give up
I feel the same for you today
As I did for you then
Stand by my side
So we can make it to the end
Jose Vasquez
You have always been my hero
I have always looked up to you
Ever since I can remember I have always wanted to be like you
You were the one that taught me the most important things which is
To always tell the truth even when it hurts
Because of you I feel that I have become who I am
I have realized that I was brought here for a special reason
You always tell me that I have to some one in life no matter what
As I go through my mission searching for the answer that will lead me to my future
I always think about you how you were able to conquered unknown territory
Doris Lewis
English 1B
11/5/09
Growing up in a household of 3
It was hard like hell
Trying to maintain a positive vibe
You being so strict, I hated
Having to go to church for bible study and every Sunday
You say I will not regret the way you raise me but to appreciate
Why me I ask? Is it only me
Going to school and coming straight home
Not being able to go places without supervision and
You not meeting certain people
Being a 3.5 average student
Graduating with you by my side telling me I can do it
Being there for me like no other, grandparents I never had
Ready to get out on my own, I thought
Being 18 was a good feeling, knowing that I was close to be grown
Was I really ready?
Life doesn’t hit me until my responsibilities started to come into action
Not knowing life was this hard
In physically I was ready mentally I was not.
Appreciating life that god spares me
Hoping he guide me through each journey of my life
No regrets to my little bug that love dearly
Realizing I have to maintain positive attitude and actions and be a role model for him
To the loser in me
I saw the most opportunities lost within the mind of a black boy
Barreling down the street in buses abusive himself in the quiet
Or noise rather
Who eneath the growling engines and people rowdy and brown skinned
Mean and sensitive somewhere at home where they actually cry under the smoke
The weed and the drank and Tupac all eyes on them as they calm down
The death of a million aborted relations and friendships
A million new converts to Christianity, pan-africanism and love
Death.
Who Ripped from the womb of hope and crushed by fear and denial with tongs of
excuses. A bunch of thoughts begotten in blue sweaters, light blue dress shirts and cordaroids. Classrooms and hail mary’s and pledges of allegiance. All of this plays as mobs of thoughts running down the busy street of his mind tipping over confidence like cars, knocking over hopes like focused businessmen, splashing coffee on newspapers scaring people into door ways
who makes friends with the opposite sex and secretly falling in love failing to keep it real
and fawning over them as they confess about the guy in which they are in love
with hoping it were you
who missed people, stopping homework for brief breaks so you can talk to those who
possess breasts, good breath and long hair, to feel cared for and loved bc love is feminine and no man gives love like she can, no man cares like she does, looks like she does, walks like she does, holds like she does, or is soft like she is
Huge smiles masking huger pain.
who wished that she was yours for a moment because fear does not allow much more.
Fear only asks for a night not life, Only a kiss not a fight, Only a glance not a number
who all those days laughing in the mirror not just because what you thought was funny
but because the reflection was amusing it brought joy to you it made you smile
This secret of yours
Who thinks you are beautiful But like a vampire this belief only works at night
In the light you are just a man, just without a haircut, just black, just old, just
working, just reading, just writing, just chilling, just wishing to just…be held
who reads all kinds of mad interesting things that people are mad about and you long for
the day wherein you can meet someone and over orange juice not coffee you can
gab about these things these songs these poems the articles these prayers these
answers these speeches these sermons this hair these lips these days and those
nights
Who is almost holding hostage a host of happy, huge, hilarious,
Eye contact eye contact eye contact eye contact eye contact eye contact text
messages and text messages Facebook status updates what else to do with a mind
that minds so many and is hardly minded the longing within to be in constant
communion with a soul drinks you and you lie in the belly of lonely
who is dying to come out
who is dying
dying
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your a great poet jermaine. your words really flow well
Itzel Diaz
English 1b
I’m 18
Life is moving
One gets married; the other one has a baby
I’m still 18
I go to school, I work
They have babies, they do not work
I do not feel 18
What is a 18 year old supposed to do?
They live harsh lives, while I play to live
They’ve gone so far and I’m stuck here
I feel ageless, like if I’m not growing
I’m standing here, and they are still going
I learn everyday from my mistakes
Have I really learned?
I’m still 18
Munkhjin Munkhbaatar
Enligh 1B
Professor Sabir
Howl
Remember the times we had together
You raised me and made me who I am today
I always wanted to be around you
But you were busy most of the time
You were my hero and my protector
You taught me so many things
Life is unfair
I was 12 when you left me
All I can do is now
Is to take care of you children
I know they will be like you
Someday they will be successful
And will continue
What you wanted to do
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