Why can’t I get this right
The thing that keeps me up at night
Supposedly arrows from up above
Have me deeply fallen in love

Trees sway in the warm summer breeze
Colourful flowers swarmed by bees
But I can find no summarize 
To the playful twinkle in your eyes

I go to sleep with you in my head
And wake up just the same 
So I searched each computer instead 
For the name of your game

Days slowly pass
As I see you in the hall
As I go from class to class
Out I want to call

Just a few days ago
We spoke for the first time
Now i want the world to know
That you are mine

The magical split second
Your hand meets with mine
That one special moment
When our fingers intertwine

This has started to preoccupy
And begun to take over my mind
Nothing that money can ever buy
A love that is so clearly blind

TO BE ON THE WORLD STAGE
IS EVERY YOUNG BOYS DREAM
BOTTOM NINTH BASES LOADED
MAKING THE FANS SCREAM

BUT EVERY CAREER STARTS FROM SCRATCH
LEARNING TO RUN HIT THROW AND CATCH
IN THE STREETS WITH WHAT YOU HAD
OR ON THE FIELD WITH YOUR DAD

BOYS CAN FANTASIZE THEY CAN HOPE
TO GO HIT THAT FROZEN ROPE
THEY CAN QUESTION AND WILL JOKE
ABOUT A GUY WHO IS THROWING SMOKE

SOME WILL KILL THEMSELVES WITH DRIVE
AND IT WILL TAKE OVER THEIR LIVES
NOTHING LESS BUT PERFECTION
MR.RAWLINGS BECOMES AN INFECTION

ALL THAT WORK AND INTENSE PASSION
WILL REPAY IN SHOCKING FASHION
WITH THEIR DAD IN THE STANDS
CHANTING ALONG WITH A MILLION FANS

YOULL BE ASKED AS YOU GROW
SO THE YOUNG ONES WILL KNOW
YELLING AT YOU WITH CARDS AND PENS
THE CYCLE STARTS YET AGAIN

Inspired by “Streets of London” by Ralph McTell.

Loneliness.
The emotion that fills you
When you leave behind your family,
Feel too excluded, too different
To reign in the steady flow of tears.
The staccato breathing, sobbing,
A secret language
That only you can grasp.
You succumb to your
Loneliness.

Your desire for company,
Your need for assurance of
Your place in the world,
Go unheard, unnoticed
In your mind.

Yet, you are never alone.
Your belief in your solitude
Irrational.
Untrue.
Where some have no one,
You have your family,
Your mother’s comforting words.
Your father’s protective nature,
Friends to lean on.

The supports you need
Always in place.
Missing only in your own
Projection of solitude.

While hundreds live without
The warmth of another’s love,
Surviving each day
Truly alone.

So how can you tell me
You’re lonely?

Its round, brass realism strikes me in place.
I must leave, but cannot will my hand to move.

I cannot bear to taint its words with my clumsy hands.

After searching for so long,
I can finally see myself in a proper light:
All roundish, completely out of distortion.
I am distorted,
By view, thought, and ambition.
I know I must leave.
Yet, the way I shine in the light;
The way I’m finally large enough for my dreams,
Is a sight too true to be smeared.

A plummet, back into this proportionately disfigured real.

And
As inevitable as the fall of the sun,
I wrap my lumbering hand around its face,
Twist its neck,
And walk out the door,
Leaving.

http://diasporadialogues.com/articles/news/2011/09/08/announcing-littoronto-contest/#.Tnpzfb_GowI

There’s no age restriction, so go for it.  And tell your friends!

It is curious how we work for fire by

striking matches and flicking lighters, to

start  campfires or light cigarettes

– flames are controlled and desired – while

We also work to extinguish fire by

spraying water and rolling around to

put out  forest fires or  burning dresses

– flames are wild and feared.

I can try to make a spark, but I cannot make it catch you

I hope you’re all having a superb summer. While doing so, definitely take a look at this. It’s something all of you, grads and present students alike, should take note of. Read the guidelines carefully, and look for a detailed reminder come early September.

http://dd.maytree.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=84&Itemid=1

There are many of you – stress that “many” – that should jump at this chance. Do it!

Observing the juxtaposition of young with old,
Not of age, but of familiarity.

He remains idle in the shadows, yet can still sidle and stalk
by the most obtrusive of groups;
his clever camouflage masks his precarious visage,
shaking,
still,
from earlier pursuits, lacking in success.

Rewind…

To a simpler time,
Of his wrong, first word.