Never Free (Spoken Word Poem)

All I want is to be free,
Like a lost refugee attempting to flee.
My soul longing for an escape
Held in place by a single piece of tape.
While my wrists are held together by broken promises to quit;
And my brain continues to chant: “Do it!”

People pray that in the morning they will wake,
But when my eyes open I want to beak.
I can’t move, cant breathe, can’t even function,
Like I’m not even me, someone’s abduction.

Long sleeves on to hide my wrists
Which look as though I’ve been writing very long lists.
Because no one will ever know
The pain I choose to never show.

So I’ll fake a smile
But just for awhile.
Until I’m home alone,
Alone in my own zone.

I am not a lost cause!
But I am filled to the top!
As the blood begins to increase.
As the cloth fills with regret.

I close my eyes
Hoping this will be the last of many tries.
Because I am a lost refugee attempting to flee,
And all I want is to be free

I have suffered from depression for the last 4 years. When I wrote this spoken word a friend of mine passed away and my depression hit me. I couldn’t get our last conversation out of my head, he was leaving to go on vacation and made me promise that when he returned My wrists would be clean. We hugged and parted ways for what I thought was going to be 2 weeks but it turned into forever. In the heat of the moment I wanted to release the pain like I always used to but while looking for my razor I found a pencil and began writing, writing how it felt instead of actually feeling it. This actually worked and when I read it over it actually flowed and rhymed and so I kept it. Reluctantly it became my spoken word and on the first day in front of a member of the school board, my principal, my vice principal, my teacher, oh and 30 of my peers I announced my darkest secret. Since then I have felt a lot mor confidence in myself, I haven’t been this happy in years.

J. D Salinger

Jerome David Salinger was born January 1, 1919 in New York, New York, United states.

Salinger spent most of his young adult life attempting over and over to be published in the New York magazine but never quit made it. Until, he wrote a story ( A Perfect Day for Bananafish) about a young man named; Holden Caulfield.

Shortly after Salinger joined World war II. Even during his time with the military he continued to write everyday. And when he was deployed home he was filled with enough experience to write a book about Holden Caulfield and his struggle of innocence. He wrote The Catcher in the Rye.

Now honestly what caught my eye about this book was that my older brother and his friend all enjoyed this book and recommended it to me. But the thing that most stood out was that John Lennon (guitarist for the Beatles) was murdered and his murderer, Chapman, claimed that the reason he killed John Lennon was in the book The Catcher in the Rye.

There are several ways you can understand this novel. The two i founder were: 1.) The way Chapman saw it as the world being full of phoniness or 2.) Trying to remain innocent and never growing up, being the Catcher in the Rye. A Rye being a field with a bunch of children are playing and if one were to get too close to the cliff and fall off into adulthood the catcher would be there to save them and their innocence.

I loved Salinger because he was not afraid to be different and put profanity into his books. He made a whole new voice no one had ever heard before. I would very strongly recommend The Catcher in the Rye as well as Salinger as a author to anyone old or young, everyone takes away something different. I would also recommend his documentary on Netflix, the trailer is right here:

Salinger – Official Trailer (HD):

Instant Death

What is an “instant” death anyway?

That thought kept repeating in my head over and over like the repetitive screams of a jealous alarm clock in the early morning. My fist gripped tightly around the oak handle of the flawless stainless steel blade, gliding it through the sunlight admiring the power and grace with every turn.

A slow hoarse moan emerged from the table below me, the venom of regret and guilt began to pulse through my veins. “I don’t want to hurt her,” I thought. I felt a pressure slowly being pushed into my back, increasing as the moments went by. Before I could catch it the word “shit” shot out of my mouth like a bullet out of a gun. The pressure stopped, as if impaled by my loose word. I swung around in an attempt to witness the damage I had done only to see a thick black cloak a few inches from the tip of my nose. The smell of moss and rotting flesh burned my nostrils and down my throat. A thick long growl rumbled through my ear canals and vibrated my ear drums. I wanted to run I wanted to hide with my tail between my legs like an innocent puppy freshly scolded.

My fist clenched tighter around the handle of the blade as I slowly turned back around to face the torn feet of his… My… Victim. The pressure returned to the mid of my shoulder blades. I took a few steps towards the head of the table and extended my hand toward the rag covering the victims face. My fingers clenching around the blood soaked fibers as I hesitantly lifted the rag.

I saw her. Her cold eyes staring up at me pleading for help. I have always been her best friend, she has always trusted me. How can I do this?… Will she understand its me? Does she realize this the end? I danced the cold hard blade across her delicate skin.

The pressure on my back began to increase significantly, I couldn’t take it any longer. I pointed the blade across my lower belly and drove it in. Slicing deeper and wider with every thrust. “I would rather die then hurt her,” I gasped.

To be honest an instant death is different. What is an instant to you could be a century to me. So to answer what an instant death is would be nearly impossible.


images        “Could this really be it?” I stopped just before the cross walk on the corner. I took a deep breath inhaling the beautiful scent of rain as it cleansed this city. I could hear the rain drops tapping furiously on peoples umbrellas and sliding off onto the growing puddles which trickled into the sewer drain in the middle of the road. People were laughing and giggling as they came out of the diner on the corner across from me.

My backpack straps pulled firmly on my shoulders reminding me of the events to come. I took a step onto the road and heard the water scatter beneath my feet. “You can do this,” I told myself. “She is your Mom, she didn’t have a choice but to give you up.” I saw a beautiful woman standing in front of me and when our eyes met, I knew. That was MY mom. No more sharing someone else’s mom. This was all mine.

“Elliot?” She said softly and gently. I nodded slightly still mesmerized at her presences. I was so captivated by her beauty.

Tears started rolling down her cheeks as she smiled up at me. Her smile, wow, I have her smile. “My baby.” she exclaimed while reahing out towards me. “I’m so sorry for all the pain I put you through.”

“Mom…. Can I call you that?” She nodded excitedly, “Mom I dont blame you, I would have done the same thing. besides it wasnt the wort life. I got everything I could have wanted. I got a child hood that I knew you couldnt give me. And now, I have it all.”

She leaned in and grabbed my head and pushed it into her shoulder trying to hug me despite her being shorter then me. I pulled away and wiped the tear off her cheek and lead her into the diner.




River Writing

7259338382_122976b2ac   The river is fast paced and very full but under control. Almost as if in a hurry to get where it is going and reach the end, but not forgetting to reach the shoreline and fill every curve and bend. The river is stressed, filled with so much power and energy it is able to devour anything and leave people weak and feeling lost. Rivers can also help you navigate, find your way through life by following the current and mainstream ideas, or you could fight the current and go your own complete way. A river is clear and not cloudy although the deeper you get and the more you get involved the more deeper blue it becomes. The rain drops that gently fall to the river making ripples and adding to the river bit by bit, if the raindrops were to continue for a long amount of time the river would pool over the shoreline causing the water to become cloudy.

Grade 12 is like the River fast pace and everyone is in a hurry, a hurry to graduate, a hurry to apply ,or even just a hurry to get out of here. Though near the shore it may seem clear and calm as you wade deeper into grade 12 it becomes dark and confusing and it seems all you can do to keep yourself from drowning. Through all of this most of us still don’t know who we are or where we want to go in life, whether we want to follow the current, or fight it, or even just drop out and leave the river all together. And with each new bit of stress like raindrops slowly filling us until we spill over the shoreline and become engulfed in the clouds of stress, anxiety, and depression. As the year goes on it becomes harder and harder to reach the shoreline keeping time for family, friends, and hobbies becomes increasingly more difficult. The continual logs and leaves and garbage that gets thrown and caught in the river, being homework assignments, tests, and diplomas being huge objects in the river to graduate.

Burning For You

Whenever I look at you I feel a simmer inside.
I will follow you anywhere even at low tide.
Whenever I’m angry and I start to flare,
I can count on you to always be there.
You make me weak, and bring me to my knees,
But I still want to be with you, you know, birds and the bees.
Though I may grow old to only an ember.
I hope you will always remember:
The sparks that form every time you wave,
All those cute little raindrops, I will always save.
And if I happen to slip out to sea,
I won’t even hesitate to get down on one knee.
I’ll take a deep breath, and swallow my pride
Because whenever I look at you I feel a simmer inside.

   I enjoy writing music and raps, so writing poetry comes simple if I can find a good beat to play off. I am not the best at expressing my feelings with just plain words, whenever I get into a stump over what I truly want I tend to start writing a poem. Finding words that rhyme and sentences that go with a theme including those words is a challenge but also almost a game to me, a distraction from the real problem I face but at the end I always come to a conclusion. This specific poem above, was inspired by my boyfriend and all the feelings that come with falling in love for the first time, or even the second. and as for picking fire and water I really wanted to capture both of our spirits, him and I are extremely different, he’s always calm and laid back and easy going, kind of goes with the flow; whereas, I am very wild, energetic and if you feed my drive I can become out of control.

   My audience is for anyone really, keeping it short and simple and making it relatable. I think every knows a fire or water, either in themselves, family, friends, significant other, or in a book. My goal for this poem was to make it relatable and tell I a story with out dragging it out.

End of the Rails

train for blog    The wind seemed to grow colder as it blew past her and stung my arms like a thousand angry bees. Her angry breath piercing my face and the words injecting their venom into my heart.

“I just don’t see us working out, you are too busy with your work.” She explained while starring at her and my feet. I couldn’t help thinking how beautiful she was even as the makeup ran down her face. She couldn’t mean what she was saying, could she? We’ve had our fights and I have told her I love her, I gave her everything! She couldn’t possibly mean this.

She stared at me begging for a response. The cold winds hands grasping at my cheeks and holding onto every word that tried to escape. The air was becoming so humid the angrier she got, making it harder to pull past the lump forming in my throat. “Well? Aren’t you going to say something?” Her voice shaking and cracking, “See, you won’t even fight for me anymore.

I wanted to scream! I wanted to grab her and hold her close and explain I do love her, but the air silenced me. The air held me back.

She began to grab her things off the grass, I tried to stop her but I felt like I wasn’t on the ground anymore. My girl, she was leaving, and I couldn’t do a thing about it! She walked away across the field and I stood their hopeless. As she disappeared over the hill. The wind stopped, it let me go. I hit the ground hard and couldn’t control myself, I screamed at the top of my lungs. The venom coursing through my veins and the guilt started filling my lungs with ever gasp it got harder to breathe. The boiling tears hit my cheeks, I can’t remember the last time I cried.

I opened my eyes and it was already dark. I stood up and rubbed my burning eyes, how long could I have been here? I had left a body imprint in the soft earth. I could hear the faint rustling of leaves behind me, hoping it would be her I turned around, only to see a very startled squirrel.

“Jeremy!” someone shouted from the street, “We have been looking for you everywhere! Your girlfriend, Izzy, she jumped in front of a train. No one could get their fast enough, they say it was instant. I am so sorry.”