No one spoke.

  

Food in their mouths.  Polyester in their robes.

They made sounds, they made faces

but never would they make -Big Eyes. Too desperate to be loved, too clouded to be wonderful.

…and I asked them what they had dreamed of the night before, & no one could remember. I asked them if they had ever dreamed at all, & no one could remember… So they discussed a movie that they had seen. 

In theaters – Together – After dinner- Out. 

It starred, a man. a man who quit his job a man who sought love a man who devoted time to tasting all life’s fruits before submitting to – Death. And in so he was young again, young for always and my mother said “how beautiful” and my father said “if only” and they went home, and slept on springs and they, Woke Up! sore – tired – wanting eggs… 

And I, from across the bendable , red and white and dressed in mayo dishware, screamed:

 Creation is a measure of Being. 

So make ashes of all idols Kneeling does not suit the Body Emulate beauty! Worship through action! Surpass thought Surpass longing and watch this world Become (what you forever blindly sought) in films and poems and wine and… E True Hollywood stories .. Which followed dead men to empty plots.

"Finally, I've escaped. Only something unpredictable and really heavy can stop me now"

-Connor my 14 year old poetry crush from Mission High!

Written from the mindset of by a 14 year old San Francisco High kid.

They say that karma is a bitch,

and so I try my best to be kind.

They say that nice guys finish last,

so I become a little impatient.

They say that good things come to those who wait

and so I did

They say that those who don't take action fall behind

So what am I to do in this world of contradiction?

Who should I be to still be correct?

I know the answer's somewhere, I just seem to have forgotten, what with all the… injections of social media and stereotypical envisionments that fabricate the world I live in.

They say that chaos is beautiful 

well, in that case my world is drop-dead gorgeous

From all the dead ends to the never-ending-happy-endings one might say that my brain is a cover up, a plastic bag pulled down on the head of my most juvenile clarity.

They say that if you are virtuous you will end your life content.

Now that's just simply not true because

I say that virtue is never taken into account in the eyes of your failure

In my world of red white and blue turned to dread spite and rue

The Disbanded States of Hysteria

Where they say, that you aren't pretty unless you've blown yourself up.

That you aren't cool, unless your daily goal is lung cancer.

And in some cases, you aren't human depending on your sexual preference and shade of skin.

They say that I will be something someday if I apply myself

and I laugh at the thought of it.

Not because I know it's a lie, but rather because they're too caught up to hear the ignorance on their words

They don't see that I am something. A boy.

A boy that lives in a pile of shit so deep, it takes all the strength he can muster to call a life.

They say that there is no such thing as a happy ending.

Now that, I can believe.

Grey matter

May your pen grace the page at the same pace as your brain

May your grey matter from now on no longer be grey

May you mean every word that you say

And may writing your rhymes be the way that you pray

Get up, Step up, never let up

Get your setup set up

Get recording, get stories pouring

Ignoring your calling and calling you ‘boring’ is boring

You need to be touring

What are you doing? You’re basically stewing

No space for day dreaming

No place for that feeling

No place for pacing the building or facing the ceiling

There’s no way that it is dealing

Your brain it is stealing

And there’ll be no change to you

And there’ll never be any change to that ceiling

I’m basically feeling that art isn’t hard

What’s hard is your heart

And it starts in the past, but the past’s in the past

So love who you are

Pass a rush of blood until your arteries blast

And let the blood rush to your arm and let your artistry start

May your pen express upon the page every feeling you’re in

May your white page – Yang

Love your black pen – Yin

May the ball in your ball point roll ‘cause that’s the point of the ball

And if we can’t make our points then what’s the point of it all?

May the lead in your lead-pencil lead you astray

We spell it L-E-A-D ‘cause we’ve made leaders this way

I know it’s hard but easy to say but I mean what I say when I say

“Mean what you say”

Potentially my pencil be the deftest thing you’ve ever seen

Adept at expressing everything that you’ve never seen

Especially when you question me

My pencil, man she gets to me

She comes to me and comforts me and takes me out to lunch you see

We have a cup of coffee, before I know it she’s on top of me

She rocking and she’s rolling me

We’re touching uncontrollably

She likes to switch the roles on me

I think I writing with her

But she it writing with me

Its my life as I desire to be

It’s only right that she’s my wife 2B

She takes me to her bed of white

We try it in the dead of night

Pages till we get it right

We make love between the sheets

May your pen grace the page at the same pace as your brain

May your grey matter from now on no longer be grey

May you mean every word that you say

And may writing our rhymes be the way that we pray

I like this write up.

the interactions between people:

without wi-fi and plugs for laptops, we noticed our customers getting their drinks in porcelain cups and talking to each other. sharing tables. hanging out. singing along with jeremy to the black sabbath soundtrack on a sunday morning. even though we’ve all seen the ways that coffeeshops can create community and anchor a neighborhood, what happens on a daily basis is different, somehow.

perhaps it’s that you’re as likely to hear a geeky conversation about coffee grinders as a dramatic recounting of last night’s scandalous activities. maybe it’s the self portraits on the wall of our bearded barista, brett, in his underwear and a coffee filter mask. maybe it’s the kids running around, the bacon maple donut on your plate. we can’t put our fingers on it. is it that everyone is happy? relaxed?  and stimulated.