on ethiopia

or at least the American families version of Ethiopia.

my new sister just came home from ethiopia, which i'm ecstatic for.

all night it's been constant talk about how ethiopia runs and its culture.

so far because there isn't a McDonalds there, that's a bummer.
the reason they're so poor is because they're not exporting (which would probably kill the inhabitants if they did that).
there's a certain grunting if you mention it is socialist-ran.
it's good they have Coca-Cola out there.




i hate American culture, and the American-view of third-world countries.

dear third world countries,
do not attempt to become Westernized, i beg of you.
for the sake of your people, and the sake of your culture and history.

the culture of the West is like a Beast devouring all who do not follow its blood-trail.

i fell in love again...

with humans.
i adore music again.
whenever i play music i fall into a trance.

i love my friends and family...

greatly.


i fell in love with animals again, i am falling in love with trees and nature again.

its beautiful.

its all beautiful.

like all artwork there is splotches which must be taken care of, these splotches sadly inhabit much of the art of life. but the bits that is perfect, is just that; perfect.

the perfect parts just need to learn to get rid of the splotchiness of the art.

no more power.
no more greed over life.

no more trespass.

Ancient Jewish Apocalyptic Metaphors referring to Empire can be fun...

these waves are not crashing
the rocks are not standing still
my eyes do not see
the sun is not rising on the hill.

the typhoons roar on the breast of the earth
the empire rises from the sea,
the waves warned us first,
of the Beast to see

these waves are crying to us
begging us to cease
these waves see the future
of our blood engulfing the sea.

give me.

melancholy. sadness. repetition. misjudgment. apathy. depression, though there really is no real reason to be depressed, thus causing more.

a cycle.

and i'm talking to myself again. imagining the future, go here, do that, run there.

stories, myths, trees, and ants.
faith, hope, love, and courage.

4th of July Poem.

There once was a cat
who laid flat on a mat
Waiting for the brand new kill.

The mouse in the hole
Near the mat, pays the toll
of being the fastest thrill.

The cat hatched a plan
So he may demand
the scrumptious, wonderful fill.

To fill his tummy
food better than "Kitty-Crummy"
With a carcass; oh so filled!

So the cat grabbed some cheese
to slow the mouse's speed
thinking "this plan will work it will".

Tied a string to the Swiss
"It'll never know this hitch!"
Cried the cat, his blood felt chilled.

All the while, all a long
The mouse listened to the song
The cat had been singing still.

"What a dumb furry creature
Whose claws are doughy features
as if i cannot hear this animal's shrill?"

So the mouse formed a plan
to counter the cat's hand
"No no, kitty, you'll be my kill"

After the cat tied the knot
and placed the bait in spot
and then stood by waiting quite still.

The mouse saw the bait
but decided his fate
as he began his deadly skill

They thought to themselves, "when did this all start?
I don't remember when or how, but it was a big part
so I'll continue and bring the pain to him still"

So the mouse got ready,
with the knife he carried
to slit the kitty's gullet (or what he called "dunghill")

The cat's claws were sharpened
with eyes on the target
"Your move, Jack, unless you sit still"

So the mouse stood ready,

and the cat held steady
the string to the cheese to the kill

-

A couple streets down,
In old Baghdad town
March 21st, the people ran thrilled!

Bombs pummeled from the sky
And families blood burned bright
The sun spiders remained frozen still.

-

The cat and the mouse
blew up with the house
For the sake of some nation's "goodwill"

Maybe one day, the cat will stop
thinking "this is mine" and "this cheese can be a prop
for the sake of my pride to be so filled"

Such attachments, and wanting more
Causes theft, fences, and nonstop war
Dear friends,

let's

stop

this

turning

windmill.

is it time?

it happens once a month usually. but lately it's getting more and more. my eye still occasionally twitches. my mental breakdowns seem to be getting different. i don't wanna talk with anyone while it happens. not person-to-person at least. i had someone, but that didn't work out well. i feel selfish. i have G-d, but i long for someone to speak to, in person, without limit. i always try to help people with whatever problems they have, i try at least, engage in discussion, i feel i'm missing out on just talking to someone heart to heart. i haven't had that in a long time, and it always really helped. i heard someone talk about how just talking to someone when you see that they are down is the first step to helping someone, and that something Divine occurs...which i always try to do. but i haven't had it happen to me in a long time, maybe i'm good at faking because i just don't want to bother anyone. and i guess it works.

i feel like a deep well.

sorry for complaining...

The Goose and the Duck.

A wise goose was once wandering around the lake
As it saw two little ducks wading to and fro
The goose sought a conversation to give or take
And the ducks seemed like a good time to show

What wisdom the pure white goose could exhale from his beak
The ducks stared in awe hearing the sayings and prose
The goose towered them both, making the trees feel meek
"Thus all science continues to point, the earth doth grow"

Without a second thought, the method brought forth,
Was digested by older duck who swam in zeal
His curious sister though, thought twice, and in short
Was confused with why the goose falsified the Real

"Mr. Goose, with your wisdom and your words, i feel a bitter loss.."
Stuttered the duckling, trembling and scared,
"Your words are a shovel to the dirt of my heart, why such a cost?
Now, understand this, i mean you well, good sir, but are you from the human fair?"

Confused, and astounded, the goose felt a fire of righteousness within
"Little duck, have you no longing of wisdom in your feathers?
Is your beak filled with jelly, slippery moss, your wing a fin?
Don't be stupid like the fish in the lake, instead arise and be better!"

Humbly, and graciously still, the duck had a Truth to tell
"Sir, i must decline what you have to offer
Though your wisdom is much, it leaves your heart a hard shell
Why not break it away and become as small as a grasshopper?"

"A grasshopper?!" cried the goose "Duckling, dear, are you mad?
Such loathsome creatures who bother me when i rest?
Who do nothing but jump around, more stupid than a cat!
Dear, i must wisely say, stand high with pride! Pucker up your chest!"

The duck quacked, "Sir! My friends are not loathsome, and no mere bother!
They wake you from your rest to play and be in wonder
And they hop because they love their Mother,
Why dilly-dad all day, when we can hop in awe in a loving shudder?"

"Oh dear duck, you have gone quite mad, you see, i worship only i
Only i: the wise
The prophet of rationality, creeds, and philosophies
And whom do you worship, some crude silly effigy?"

Taken aback, hurt by the call, the duck began to cry "Mr. Goose!
How could you talk of Her that way? My love, my Mother
My heart has been torn, with talks of such wisdom Beauty once loose,
Now caged, and hungry, longing for a Lover
Call me stupid and foolish, and call me silly
But, i love my Lover Who holds Grace
A thousand times more is Her love to me!
Mr. Goose, while you deter my love, and run tears down my face
May a Goose answer this small question from a duckling?
Are you in love with something?
For is not love such a power we cannot hold?
Such a power, that only stories are told?
For if there is neither Love nor Care,
We are just some project in a human science fair.
But Mr. Goose, if Love is real then so is She
Because what is Love, other than another impossibility?"