Piles of stolen angels

In the 1940’s
Millions, MILLIONS of people were massacred
Their lives shattered
Their families ripped apart by cold biased hate
Without a reason
We sit shocked when we learn
I remember being 13 years old
With only a vague idea of the word; “Holocaust”
I knew in my gut it was something that provoked
Shudders, panic, sorrow
I sit in my bed at 2 AM, turning the last page
Of Elie Weisel’s Night
With frantic thoughts of these people
Wishing there was something to do just to take it back
Oh god how can we just take it back?
Resurrect these innocent lives
Dig them up from where they’ve perished
Collect the dust that is their bare bones and put them
Back into their lives
Erase that look of anguish off their faces
Do something
Do something
I cried for those bones
That blood
I cried for the survivors
Stricken by what they experienced
Stricken by the chance to live again
Stricken by the frigid terror
I cried for the piles of stolen angels
Those baby faced boys eager for life
Those able bodied women ready to create life
Those strong men, defenseless
What is this?
How could this happen?
My 13 years old mind was trying to understand
For nights, I laid awake
Trying to grasp some sort of rationalization
But none ever came
It’s three years later
and I’m being taught about the Holocaust again
About genocide
I wasn’t taught that word 3 years ago
Genocide
It’s a monster
A blood curling terrifying thought
Genocide; that mass killing
I learn the steps leading up to it
That staircase to atrocious violence
Violence provoked
I used to believe that those men
Who wore an arm band of red
A symbol, A Natzi
Those men were dragons spitting aimed fire
Completely aware
Aware of their homicides
Aware that they just murdered
That they were a brand of a different kind of mind
Capable of this terror
When put of trial later
They pleaded “I was just following orders”
They were manipulated by the compulsion to obey
I contemplate my own levels of obedience
My own raw pull to follow rules
My inability not to follow direct orders
How would I act in that situation
Where I’m directly convinced to murder
An action that propaganda has
Put into a glorified light
Murder something that has been distorted into inhuman
Murder without a single consequence?
I say now, that I’d have the will
The moral embedded in me
To do that right thing
To prevail past the distortion
But still I find it so hard to accept
That there were so many cold blooded killers
And that none had the courage to stop
They committed cold blooded
Crime after crime
Indecency after indecency
I ache at that very thought
I want to single handedly
Reverse the pull of gravity
Spin the Earth in the opposite direction
Reverse time
And modify this piece of agonizing history

Mental Heuristics

I found these at; http://www.aleph.se/Trans/Individual/Mental/rules.html

1. If you want something done, do it yourself.

2. Never procrastinate anything you can do right now

3. When you have several things you could be doing and don’t know which to do; Just do any one of them.

4. Always assume that you will succeed.

5. If you can’t find a solution, change the rules.

6. If you cannot do anything about something, there is no point in worrying about it.

7. Do not rely on conscious decisions for speed – Just do it.

8. Don’t try to explain away your actions for yourself.

9. Listen to your intuition, but do not believe it unconditionally

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“Picasso said he’d paint with his own wet tongue on the dusty floor of a jail cell if he had to” – Andrea Gibson

I want to grow
Stretch my branches
Reach toward skies
Of unusual futures
Provoke higher level thinking
Experiencing life like one
Experiences their favorite meal
Savoring each delicious bite
Savoring each delightful day
I want to be an ingredient
In a recipe for change
I want to be mixed up into inspiration

I want.

I want to suck lemons dry
Unflinchingly savoring the sour
Because life has taught me
Lessons of prevailing
I want to fly through skies of fulfillment
Tasting the clouds of satisifaction
I want to run marathons of lives
Stretching 26.2 miles to reach out to others
I want to introduce myself with unfaltering confidence
With creases in my paling skin
And white in my thinning hair
I want to smile, educated and sustained.

And indeed there will be time, there will be time.

T.S. Eliot wrote my favorite poem. The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufock

It just overwhelms me with this strange sense of being ashamed. This old man is approaching the end of his life, realizing that he has no time left to accomplish all of the things he wanted to do.

Today I felt like this man. I’m 16 years old, with only a vague idea of who I want to be.

I want to help people.

I want to read.

I want to write.

I need a sense of purpose, I need to create.

I want to be able to have a constant feeling of productiveness, and eliminate my wasted time.

I want to utilize every moment to its fullest and have no regrets.

My plan for Summer 2009.

Volunteer (in areas that will allow me to put a smile on people’s faces everyday.)

Read (things I wouldn’t be ashamed to tell others about.)

Write (things I’m willing to share, things I’m proud of.)

Learn (become more aware of what is going on in the world, lives that aren’t mine)