\\The Journey is the Thing///

\Massive sheets of green aluminum
Scattered all over the country are acting as little hints
To loosely direct us to whichever destination we’re heading toward
While countless bands of concrete underneath our tires get us there.
Once you’ve been surrounded by this seemingly unchanging scene of
Gray and green and brown and blue above becomes the destination.
More time seems to be spent here than where I’m actually headed.
Hours spent dozing off
Sprawled out in the backseat
Arms bent effortlessly behind the back of the seat
And legs extended over and around the passenger seat.
I came to in Waco in the late afternoon to discover that my environment had not 
Changed much since I drifted into dreams in Baton Rouge hours ago.
Things were so spread out though…
… It was strangely disorienting.
So much vast space painted different shades of brown and tan
For endless miles with a few dustings of green and white.
The Journey is the Thing/// 

12:27 am  •  21 June 2011

I have neglected this blog so much lately~ I’ve got tons of new things to add.

Most likely in a different format, since writing that neatly and that small takes entirely too much time/// 

I doubt anyone even knows this exists, more or less actually reads this stuff~

Have a lovely Father’s Day.

Trapped in a hotel instead of exploring Austin is not very exciting nor stimulating…

Texas is the Reason~

6:20 pm  •  19 June 2011

.Deforestation & The Process Of Rebuilding.

I was only fifteen on that cold February night.
The night that you,
after months, maybe longer, of keeping this secret
deep inside the catechism of the disease you call
your heart.
Spoke up.
It got to the point where the guilt crept inevitably to the breaking point.
The fruits of your labor.
The bitter, sour fruit with the power to make even the most rock-solid unit
crumble to pieces, and a fruit so sweet and ripe that upon the first bite,
all of the “problems” that caused you to plant this seed go away in an instant.
Only when you saw the tears flow from the faces of the ones who loved you most
did it hit home,
and you realized that planting that seed was the end of it all.
That seed that grew, massively, in an instant
and with the release of that guilt, acting as an axe, cut it down and in one fell-swoop, that tree came crashing down and shattered the life you built, to pieces.But I, I refused to let that happen.
The second those words left your lips, I made the decision to pick up those pieces and make something out of them.
It would never be the same as it was before, but something much more honest, much more genuine than before.
Something that will last and could withstand the blow of trees twice the size of the one you claimed, and come out the other side unscathed, and even stronger than before.
I’d plant my own seeds, and in time, they would grow into a forest that would stand tall for years to come.
To never be torn down by the razor-sharp edge of guilt and left to fall
on the ones I held closest to my heart…
…My heart, that will beat strong and beautiful
like yours once did
never to be plagued by mistakes of such magnitude
as the ones you’ve made.
And yet…
I understand that we are all human.
Despite the monstrous mistakes we make
they do not, under any circumstance
define who we are.
No grudges are held within my heart.
Grudges only make our already susceptible hearts
even more likely to contract the poisonous mistakes,
as you’ve shown me first hand.
I take it all as a learning experience.
Everything may not happen for some divine reason
but it does happen.
So that we, through the mistakes of the ones before us
can learn how to be
b e t t e r.
So that the ones that come after us
can carve our legacies into the trunks
of the trees
we. planted.
———————————————————————
[This is something I’ve been thinking about writing for some time now, it’s about the destruction of the family unit, and how it can be viewed as learning experience and how it’s up to the ones affected by it, to make something positive out of it. I don’t know why I liken families to plants and trees, I guess just the whole “growing” aspect of it all really stands out to me. I hope it makes some sense.]
J.Smith 1993-XXXX

10:47 pm  •  24 March 2011  •  4 notes

.The Ocean Never Ends.

I never wanted to sink
but the pond of differences between us grew
into a vast, raging ocean of distrust and half-truths
that I couldn’t sail alone…
Without even the slightest consideration, you decided
for the both of us that it would be best that we let what we had
go down with the ship and we float our separate ways.
While you were drifting comfortably back to the shore in the safety of your life-boat I was clinging for life on a wooden board;
What was left of the mangled remains of the ship we built together.
Too much of a coward to let it go as easily as you had.
I made the conscious choice to hold tight to the wreckage
and subject myself to the cruel mercy of the sea that was once a pond.
You reached the shore, it was safe and comforting.
It took a week or so, and your ocean had dried up the like the Mojave desert.
While it took me months, drifting in the harsh waters of our m i s t a k e s.
And my pond still exists.
No longer the vast ocean it once was, but I’m still ankle-deep
in apathy and my clothes are still damp.
But instead of floating helplessly
I’m standing, with my feet firmly planted in the pond.
Waiting for the winds of acceptance to dry me
and evaporate the standing water of the past, pooled around my ankles
like shackles, to painfully remind me of what once was.
So I can walk forward and carry on.
Until the clouds decide it’s time to rain the old pond it once dried up, down on me
once more…
and f l o o d.
The Ocean Never Stops.
———————————————————————
[I wrote this in class on a whim. With no intention to write whatsoever, it just came out of me. I’m really somewhat proud of it. I never like anything I do, or make, or say, or write but this doesn’t seem too bad. It’s just about some things that happened a while ago that I’m still holding on to in a sense. I edited it a bit as I was typing it up here, adding some things.]
J.Smith 1993-XXXX

8:37 pm  •  18 March 2011  •  3 notes

.INKandPAIN.

It is so oddly therapeutic,
the act of writing.
The simplicity of a pen scratching
its ink into paper.
With and iron heart and mind kept under
l o c k and k e y.
Astounding how something so simple can bring relief
to all the dark, sad, harsh and hard feelings kept
i n s i d e.
Kept inside from the past days, months, and years.
With enough pain and tears to last
MULTIPLE LIFETIMES.
Simply scratching that cheap, black ink
into that wrinkled and worn piece of paper
and NEVER stopping, can be the absolute
p u r e s t & t r u e s t
of cures to the broken, beat, tired human soul.
———————————————————————
[The notes at the bottom is just a note I left to myself about what inspired the poem. Meeting a new friend can be the most inspiring fucking thing. He made me want to write again. It’s really self-explanatory I think. It’s just about how writing can help you heal.]
J.Smith 1993-XXXX

8:09 pm  •  18 March 2011

THESE.ROOTS.GROW.DEEP.

Born a seed,
Planted firmly in the soil.
I grow.
Seeing people grow.
Change.
Forget who they are.
Too often forget why they’re here.
We are all born seeds,
meant to grow taller and stronger
than the ones who planted us could ever dream of being.
Too often forget that we are
MEANT
for GREAT things.These roots grow deep so that I…
I, will NEVER forget who I am.
What I’m meant for. what I can do.
So… Plant your roots firmly in the ground,and NEVER forget.
THESE ROOTSG R O W  D E E P.
———————————————————————
[We were asked to write a poem about ourselves for my Comp 2 class, and I hate talking about myself more than anything so I wrote this. It’s just about not forgetting where you came from, and appreciating it, and not ever losing sight of the fact that we are all meant for great things, whether we believe it or not.]
J.Smith 1993-XXXX

7:57 pm  •  18 March 2011

context ender.

7:54 pm  •  18 March 2011