closetedwriter76

[closetedwriter76]

I’m ready for some thunderstorms...

July thunderstorm in Pawnee National Grassland, Northeastern Colorado ~ Eileen Kitayama 2018

[closetedwriter76]

Playing by the Ocean

Please let me go I cannot be so late

I promised her to be back home by eight

These friends they laugh and splash and scream and squeal

My mother says they simply can’t be real 

She turns around and looks me in the eye

She won’t believe and calls my tale a lie

I ask if she has ever been so brave

To put her ear up to a mighty wave

You must get wet and ruin your Sunday best

To hear the creatures calling from their nest

~

The final drops of sun do stain my skin

My leg it tingles with a passing fin

I’m glad a stranger wasn’t walking by

For he would surely let out a fierce cry

At the sight of her fins and skin and scales

With the color of a Beluga Whale

A face and general form like me and you

Without a hair and webbed from head to toe, it’s true

No taller than a feeble forest sprite 

I promise you I taught them not to bite

[closetedwriter76]

Shame

The smooth and strong expanse of the desert lays before the forest.

The forest’s gaze greedily soaks up every detail of the toned dunes and the perfect shape of the desert. It appears as if not a grain of sand is out of place. God took her time methodically and tenderly creating this vast and alluring landscape. 

The forest loses itself momentarily, but then is brought back with feelings of shame crawling over it like the web of a spider with an unlucky fly tangled up in it. It is upset it will never look like the beautiful desert. It will never achieve the smooth silky surface, as the grass, trees, mosses, ferns, and shrubs all grow continuously and in every direction. It would not be able to tame them and achieve the same level of symmetry the desert seemed to have effortlessly perfected.

The forest looked down at itself with a new feeling of contempt. It glared at the trees. Especially the ones who stood at odd angles or the ones with some branches missing. It cursed as it saw the patches of moss on the sides of trees and growing on the faces of rocks.

[closetedwriter76]

For some reason this is everything. I want to create these worlds but with words... You get what I’m saying :))

Art by Oleg Stepanko

[closetedwriter76]

this.

s a l t

the taste of salt on your skin,

reminds me of a place, 

across thousands of miles 

of land and sea. 

.

reminiscent of the ocean breeze 

that once caressed my face, 

tinging my existence with salty taste, 

walking along the shore,

with sand crusted feet, 

taking simplicity of life

for granted at fifteen. 

.

i wish i didn’t have to worry 

about money, responsibilities

or infectious disease. 

this marks ten years since,

i’ve been back to see- 

the waves dancing, 

fishermen singing, 

and merchants bickering. 

.

ten years since- 

i’ve walked up hilly streets 

and down the narrow alleys 

that once led to a cherished place. 

.

ten years have passed.

but, it’s ten years too many.

my loved ones are no longer there, 

the apartment is no longer theirs. 

.

so when you ask me why

i line your body 

with hungry kisses 

it’s because -

you remind me of a place 

that once was precious.

.

- aleta jay

[closetedwriter76]

my absolute favorite spoken word 

Loyce Gayo - “How We Forget” (CUPSI 2014) “We forgot crowns do nothing for kings but put weight on their heads and a target on their backs.” Performing during Finals at the 2014 College Unions Poetry Slam Invitational for UT Austin. Austin took first place in the tournament.

[closetedwriter76]

Ice

I wish my hands were colder than the snow.

It’s a peculiar desire I know,

But I want my skin to be covered in ice,

A persistent but delicate white stain.

So that every time a snowflake fell on them

It wouldn’t melt but remain.

---

I’m currently working on making this into a longer poem, but I liked the first part and wanted to share :))

[closetedwriter76]

Him

I am swept away by the waves of sleep

It’s calm transition at first but it slowly gets more violent

The water numbs me and my thoughts drift away

They float on the surface as I sink

-

The dark currents pull me down

It’s what I wanted

The sunlight was too bright

-

You live down here

With the fish and shipwrecks

I don’t know why you stay

You should have left a long time ago

I came here to to avoid you

-

Nonetheless I see you

Floating around the debris

The curious thing is,

I’m there too

A specter of my past self

-

You’re smiling and so am I

I can see the happiness that was on my face

We were holding hands

And walking down by the river

I was telling you my truth

And I thought you were telling me yours

Maybe you were, 

But I’m expert at deceiving myself

-

The scene changes abruptly

I see myself again, but this time everything has changed

There are tears on my face

The hurt in my heart is so potent

You’re standing next to me

But it’s different than it was before 

You caused the hurt and pain I felt

You were there but in a different form

-

I hated the way it felt

I hated the way you ruined the story in my head

I hate being wrong

-

Everything starts to fade again and I’m pulled up towards the surface

I don’t want to go back but I don’t have a choice

The sun blinds me and I blink frequently to try to regain my sight

The worst part is that you’re here too

As I blink I see your silhouette in the distance

-

I wish you would leave

But I think part of growing up is accepting that you’ll always be here

[closetedwriter76]

Writing Goals

I think it’s important to write down why I am writing and what I want my books/other works to convey. So here it goes,

- I want people to question how they interact with the natural world around them when they read what I write.

- I want people to think about everything they know about the environment and everything they don’t know. 

- I want people to think about the impacts that they have on the world not just immediately around them, but on the broader global environment. 

- I want people to have to confront the idea that society right now is destroying  the environment and using resources at an unsustainable rate.

- I want people to worry about future generations and how they are going to have to adapt to the changing environment. 

- I want people to understand that they have a choice. This choice is to continue to be willingly blind to the problem or be uncomfortable and face these problems head on. 

What do you want people to feel/take away from your writing?

[closetedwriter76]

Family

I blame you for nothing. I’m glad I have you,

But since we are getting into the fine details, I do have some comments.

-

I blame you for the high pitched voice I use when talking to animals, 

For the nausea on windy mountain roads,

For the need to know the inner workings of everyone’s relationships,

For the skin that breaks with the lightest touch of a mean hearted word,

And for the pimples that started at age 14 and haven’t stopped since.

But,

I’m glad you showed me how to admire creation,

For giving me a kind heart,

For demonstrating what it means to do what you love,

For the determination I have to be happy,

And for the passion I have to teach and help those around me.

[closetedwriter76]

First attempt at integrating environmental themes into my book

Traffic is bad today. Jake curses himself for taking the bus right before noon when everyone is on their lunch break. He looks out the window and sees the road overflowing with vehicles. Everybody is bumper to bumper and he doesn’t think the bus door could even open all the way with how packed in everyone is. He imagines what this scene would look like from above. Not from on top of the bus, but from something like a bird flying over this part of the city. He thinks it would look like a can of sardines with how squished everything is together, but then quickly changes his mind to imagining all of the cars as ants. All the ants are moving in the same direction, like there is a carcass of a dead animal ahead and they are all eager to tear off a piece and bring it back to the queen. He shakes his head as he dismisses this analogy like the previous one. Ants are all working together towards a common goal; keeping the colony alive. 

All the cars here are just full of impatient people with their own motives, their own desires, and their own lives. Jake acknowledges he is also one of these impatient people and decides it best to not travel any further on this train of thought.

[closetedwriter76]

Another Intro that needs work

Right before you die, your mind tends to wander. It probably does this to keep itself from imploding over the impossible notion that in a very short period of time, it will cease to exist. A man laying at the bottom of a trench was experiencing this very phenomenon, and he was not enjoying it in the slightest. He had a hunch that his impending end was the cause of these thoughts, yet he still couldn’t shake them. 

He couldn’t stop thinking that it was mind numbingly stupid that people use to say “In the year of our Lord” before a specific date. An example that had come to him was in school when learning about Christopher Columbus. In one of the documentaries they had watched he distinctly remembered it saying “In the year of our lord 1492, Christopher Columbus sailed across the Atlantic and landed in America”. This whole “year of our lord” business was a lie and he knew it. If it truly was the Lord’s year, he figured God, Jesus, or whoever would have tried to keep some sort of peace on Earth. Sadly, that didn’t happen and all of the native peoples were raped, pillaged and plundered by Christopher Columbus and other Europeans. It was pretty lousy for the Lord to let that happen at any point in time, but especially if it truly were his year.

[closetedwriter76]

An Intro that needs work

The sky ached to split open. It was an ache that felt eternal. The same ache Job had felt for an end to his suffering caused by some almighty game. All it needed was a holy hand to lightly brush by the outermost layer of the atmosphere and it would let go. It would finally let go. 

It had felt this urge to break open and unleash the smoke and fire that had been amassing behind it’s blue sun filled sky as well as its grey storm ridden face. Every atom that made up it’s seemingly endless expanse felt the urge to implode, to split into millions of impossible fragments and escape to the edges of the universe. 

The sky envied the red sea, ripped apart by God as Moses lifted his staff. Below lived both the Egyptians and the Israelites. It’s best assumption for why it wasn’t yet allowed to fulfill it’s one final wish, to burst, was because the world was grey, filled with not only Egyptians, but trace amounts of Israelites as well. But even this the sky didn’t fully understand. It dealt in absolutes. From above it was much easier to see the truth; the differences between black and white, right and wrong, good and evil. 

Although this was true, it stayed together and remained strong, just as it had always done since that second day. 

As the creatures on the earth looked up to the sky and wondered, the sky looked down and did the same. The celestial beings didn’t catch it’s attention, rather the creatures and spirits down below.

It had seen the conglomerations of human civilization spread across the face of the earth like sores across the body of a leper. But this time Jesus had not come to heal the diseased. Slowly the air turned sour, the waters couldn’t support the fish that used to call streams and lakes home, the deserts grew and the forests dwindled. The host was losing the ability to support the life it had once sustained.

The sky was angry it had lost the creations that used to lay beneath it. It was angry at all the injustice it saw, between people, between people and the other creatures that called Earth home. This is why there was a fire brewing behind its face. This is why it waited patiently for the day that it could cave in. It longed for a new chapter. 

[closetedwriter76]

this

Blank pages don’t exist.

I see you in between every carbon atom of the paper.

My pen can’t write without bleeding ink into you.

-WanderingWorlds

[closetedwriter76]

A lil paragraph I’m proud of

It’s unusually warm for August. Not that August isn’t generally hot and uncomfortable, it’s just that it seems especially unbearable lately. The sun’s rays have been unrelenting and the shade of a cloud feels as distant of a memory as the cooler temperatures of the spring. Words like sweltering and stifling were cheap and on everyone’s lips. The urban heat island has turned into the urban heat continent and everyone in the city is wilting under this newfound and oppressive weight.

[closetedwriter76]

Free write inspired by Coping Mechanisms by Tayla Parx

It leapt out at her. It was violent and strong. She thought the transition would have been slow and gentle, like the tide steadily rising and sweeping her away on a soft but purposeful current. She couldn’t have been more wrong.

The music was loud and coming from the tv speakers in front of her. She felt the vibrations in her chest and her exposed skin tingled with the rhythm and beats of the bass. It was more than vibrations to her. She felt covered in the song. Not submerged, but covered. The song wasn’t everywhere in the room; it was around her. Stuck to her skin and soaked into her hair.

She liked it. She needed this. All of her senses were focused on this sensation. It wasn’t sexual, but it was pleasurable. She didn’t want this feeling to go away. She didn’t want to stop experiencing this. For a brief moment in time, she didn’t.  

[closetedwriter76]

If it burns

If it burns should you light it?

Would it care?

It hasn’t indicated that it does.

If it will eventually burn,

Why can’t you?

What difference does it make

to burn now or later

if the end result is the same?

dust and ashes

 If it screams should you beat it?

Would it care?

It has indicated that it does.

Repeatedly

Fervently

Loudly

It will live a life of suffering.

Others will beat it.

Why can’t you?

What difference does it make,

to be beat now or later

if the end result is the same?

bruises and scars