Organized Chaos

Upon the cessation of a private review session I had with a fellow classmate before World Religions class, I realized I was really pumped for the midterm we were going to have.  I walked into the auditorium thinking “I’m totally going to ace this!”  Around question 61 I realized the GTA lied when I specifically asked if there would be questions that weren’t covered on the crib/review sheet.  Fortunately, those incredibly specific questions regarding obscure passages in the readings were quite limited, so I have no excuse for not receiving an A.  The first 90 questions were multiple choice and the last 10 were short answer.  I left one answer out of 102 blank because I couldn’t for the life of me recall what important figure brought communism to China.  It was not on my review sheet and it was part of a reading that was not mentioned in class.  I sat in my chair for 5 minutes mentally scanning names of important figures we learned about and couldn’t even conjure up some semblence of a good guess.  I was quite ashamed for leaving an answer blank, but, I had to get over it.  So, I attempted the bonus questions.  Of course, one just had to ask what family Ganesha was a part of.  Since I know Brahma is generally overlooked, I narrowed it down to Vishnu and Shiva in the Trimurti.  And being such a fan of the counter-culture, I chose Vishnu because Shiva is so blasted popular.  Curses! I was wrong.  I could have hung myself, but the second bonus question asked to explain how Buddhism rejected Upanishadic and Vedic Hinduism.  Thankfully, I knew that answer.  I just hope it was what they were looking for.  I found myself trembling whilst testing and at some points I thought I’d go mad.  At first I thought it was just my desperation for the grade, but several hours later I remembered I had about 18 ounces of coffee earlier in the morning. 

I walked out of the exam with a lot less arrogance, realizing the exam had humbled me.  But I respect DeChant more for it.  This class is not an ‘easy A’ and if I eventually attain it, it will because I put forth the effort.  At best, I’ll find out my grade on Thursday, but most likely it’ll be Tuesday before I know. 

I walked my anxious self to the library after class, as I regularly do and worked on some Anthropology homework.  I completed my readings for tomorrow but have yet to complete my project.  It shouldn’t take too long.  A 3 to 5 page essay and a kindship chart should take but 2 or 3 hours of my time? 

On my drive home my head swirled with what I still have to accomplish before this week is over: a kinship project, Russian homework, completion of the eastern religions reading, and a couple poems for a certain Poetry Jam to be had on Thursday evening.  My mind wandered from school to recreation and contemplated what my compositions’ focii would be.  I thought of incorporating my studies into the poems.  And an idea to express music as a religion was born.   I hope to work on this tomorrow after classes.  But it, of course, will take a backseat to my studies.  And with all that I still have to make it to the nearest computer with a decent internet connection and headset tomorrow by 5PM BST to hear Shardcore’s interview.

On the Horizon

So, I’ve registered for the Poetry Jam and am awaiting more information from a Tom Taylor.   I went through my usual routine of being charming and witty in e-mail and all I got was something to the effect of “you’ll be receiving further information soon”.   How anticlimactic. 

Perhaps I expect too much from people.  

So, I am faced with two options:  composing two new works or recycling some old.  I have a lot of extra credit to catch up with, along with a midterm exam, and a project to work on in the next two weeks.   If I don’t compose something immaculate during a drunken stupor, I really don’t know what I’m going to do other than reach into my bag of old tricks. 

In case I am not blessed with an epiphany or I just resume creative writing laziness, I will contemplate using these: 

Option 1: 

I thought about you

I thought about you
and the way your fingers grazed my lips
your fingertips
tasted of saline
and the sway of my hips
matched the slow rhythm
of Miles Davis’

I Thought About You
and the way your tongue
Accelerates
positively and negatively
in my mouth.
Your strength berates
my inhibitions
I’m in transition
for a new disposition
and

I thought about you
with your “I’m so cool
without even trying” hair

I’m lain bare
In despair
for pressure
More
pressure
please
I can’t take the lightness
of touch
It is not enough
I’m not asking for it rough
I
just need you
to break through
I
knead
you
hard, not light
Despite
The love that is here
Do not have fear
of Breaking me
I won’t break
I know what I can take
But
I am ready to
test the threshold.

Option 2: 

Dissatisfied

I am not pacified
I am dissatisfied

I watch my finger tremble
from the anxiety inside

I am a careless drifter
I move with the tides

I am a faithless person
all trust denied
I simply can’t abide
with how society’s inclined

So now I decline
what you have to offer
there is a place for me
in some other dimension

I must transcend
this burden of reality
I don’t need a friend
to take with me
they dissatisfy
they cannot pacify

I am alone in life
with all my strife
I am a selfish one
an egocrentric one

My world is I
My world is I

Your time has come
So what if you come undone
Your world is you
Your world is you

We are selfish ones
Always hungry for more
We are not pacified
We are dissatisfied

Option 3:

Formulating Denials

Visiting the inquisitive with my illicit hogwash
Introspective and indulgent
my perspective is tarnished
tainted by the wear and tear
of every day life
painted in coats of flair and dar-ing
and every day strife.
“Give me peace,” I say
but this lease on life, I’ve yet to pay
in full, but every day
it takes its toll
more and more
I’ve begun to abhor
this dungeon I’ll live in forever more

I’m a pimple
on the face of humanity
nothing’s simple
when I’m on the verge of insanity
I’m losing grasp
I may just snap
my syntax has lapsed
I need to be slapped
back into normalcy
but the formality
of reality
is enough to make me retch

I’m a corporate wench
satan’s hench-woman
and I still worship man
denying myself
of mortal health
I’ll remain in this state
seal my fate
until the date mortality meets immortality

I’m tired, yet inspired
and I’ll let this run its course
until I’m absolved
no longer involved
in the iniquities of man

I’m searching for tranquility
possibly unearthing infinity
on this journey to serenity
but I bide my time
never truly crossing the line
because in a hack’s life
nothing is ever really accomplished

Do not be astonished
Even though I lie
I wouldn’t deny
My ability to see glimpses of truth
though my perspective’s skewed
truth is subdued
still alluded to
through the lies you despise

I’ve bought into satan’s franchise
and we’re selling lies
hiring spies
and targeting humanity
this is a tragedy
I take part in
but you’re no victim
you are an assassin
and if you don’t believe that
you’re in denial just like me

USF Poetry Jam

A poetry jam will be held at my university library on October 18 at 7PM and I am contemplating going. Now, if I want to perform, I will have to register by TOMORROW. Do I really want to participate? It would mean providing some original works and speaking before an audience. I have no problem with either, but what of my style? Those poetry jam sorts all tend to have similar styles in the US from what I’ve encountered. They sound like hip hop artists and rappers. Now, that’s not my style. Their focus seems to be to exude energy and “pack a punch”. I’m a big fan of Saul Williams, but I could never properly emulate his style. Even if I could, I would feel like an utter hack.

When I translate text into spoken word, I aim to put listeners in a near trance-like state. It is a dance of words, but my dance doesn’t involve breaking or poplocking, I consider it more of a waltz and mambo. Not solo, but partnered and to be married at all times. Bouncing between passion and elegance, I do not aim to divorce, but sustain fluidity between partners. I don’t care to awaken anyone with a political message, I want to wander about in their heads and slide between the conscious and subconscious. I want to travel their bodies; first covering the entire surface area of their forms then seeping into their pores and grazing over muscles and fats. How bumpy would my ride be, I wonder, or how smooth. I want to find my way through capillaries, veins, and arteries as well as the atria of the heart. The spinal cord would be my elevator to the beloved brain – my final destination. Here is where I hope to leave a bit of myself. And in this place I wish to create a pleasant system of reciprocation where listeners care to provide what I provide them.

I think I might just register for the “Jam”, but I think I’ll suggest everyone close their eyes whilst I read.

Time for a crash-course in guided meditation.