not now, not never

one day they will find us
and they will eat us,
I will wear a suit, and you will be called to jury duty

one day they will catch us
and they will join us,
I will go to work, and you will watch law and order

one day they will trap us
and swallow us whole,
I will have bills, and you will be wed

one day they will grab us
and take us away,
I will read the paper, and you will pull an all-nighter

one day they will call us
and we will come to them,
but that day is not today, so we run, like children

end

We live fast.

A summer of questions.

I feel blindsided by the way my relationships from two years ago have turned out. I thought none of them would change and when we saw one another again it would be like we never left. I thought my name would be remembered in my tiny high school and I would always have friends that woke up for its attendance. My name is now whispered by my mother and my brother. My friends are in college and have forgotten about what used to be. I see them change only in profile pictures. I see their interests only in Times New Roman. I feel our names are no longer connected. We have all turned to whispers even to ourselves. I have lost one friend completely to drugs and binge drinking. I have lost others because of distance. What does the future hold for them and me?
Have I changed? Have they lost me?

no one could stop us

We were lions
That summer when we told each other secrets
And we spent every night sleepless
Hunting, playing, watching,
Never waiting, never wishing, never wanting,
Through grass and through strange streets
We strolled on tires and on our feet
Exploring, taking, wondering,
Never sitting, never longing, never hoping,
The sun, the sound, the stagnation of the summer,
All were as close to us as we were to each other
Loving, praising, touching,
Never liking, never lacking, never yearning,
Sleeping in the morning in a foreign place
Gargoyles of the human race
Stealing, accompanying, kissing,
Never giving, never alone, and never quiet,
All of us with the collective fear of being dissolved
Constant wishy-washy feelings of segregation
Connected, collected, contained,
Never separated, never divided, never alienated,
Reminding each other with unspoken messages
The steady question we whisper, “Are you my brother?”
And the unvarying answer, “Till the end.”
That is all we needed to know because
We were the pride, we were the pack,
We were the lions


For a second there I felt invincible
I felt alive and unafraid, I knew I was going to be ok,
I knew who I was and I knew the boys who slept around me
and that was enough.

Mirror

Things have been bugging me lately, I'm constantly put in situations with people who group themselves into statistics, trends, and mediocrity. Its this blending in, hiding who you are, and hating what you could be, that is driving me insane. We all fall into trends (I'm definatly not an exception) but between going to school and work I am flooded with look-a-likes. We put on masks to hide what we are, we live through our stories and friends instead of our futures, we are proud to not know anything about ourselves. We are content with grouping ourselves into these neat packages that are easy to explain. We make rules about our personality, our emotions, and our thoughts. I believe humans are deeper than what we show other people. I think we are deeper than just cells, tissue, and carbon blueprints. We are deeper than science. We are more unique than we all like to believe. Our skin is a permanent Halloween costume. I'm not writing this to change the path of society (this is a free blog posting competing with the advertising industry that spends three billion dollars on ads a week...trust me I'm not trying to win this battle). I just wish everyone was proud of everything that makes them different. "if only you were camoflage, you could return back to the trees, but you and I both know you could never leave the city."- Fear Before

thanks for reading
JOSH

my old place

I've been thinking lately about some thing that is very disappointing about Earth (not that I don't enjoy living here). I find our desire to find magic in anything has ceased to exist. I would very much like to find a hidden wood where no greed has ever wondered into, where the animals still talk, and good beats evil under every circumstance. I still pretend that those places exist. I go into forests all the time pretending I'm still the leader of the centaurs. I cast spells and make swords and spears out of branches, but they aren't like the ones my army used to make me. I used to make crowns to put on my head and I was a prince that fought in the name of a good empress. I was blessed with the best land and a beautiful princess. I created creatures in school and then when school was over I fought them (or befriended them). The land full and I loved it there. I went everyday to be with my friends, the trees, the centaurs, and the animals. I was the protector until the day I couldn't protect any longer. I watched as the trees stopped talking to me and the bulldozers and tractors slowing took enormous chunks out of the best land that was given to me. My land got smaller and smaller until war was finally upon us. I watched as my centaurs fought so bravely to keep them away and lost their lives. All the creatures I had created, all the friends I had invented, and all the things I protected from unstoppable nightmares they all looked at me. I could hear what they were saying though they did not speak, "Come on prince, one last time cast them out of your land, stop them, save us all like you did all the other times." But I could do nothing but watch as the machines killed them, taking all their land and leaving the survivors to starve. I can't go back there. I was their prince, their protector, and their life; I stood by and watched them all perish because there was nothing I could do. I miss them all greatly. I wish I could write a book about all those things I did, but my life doesn't really allow me to stay focused on one subject for too long. Maybe one day when my life is less crazy I'll be able to record everything that I experienced as a prince of a land forgotten. Maybe.

the shrub that should be a tree

In the Garden Center of Home Depot, where I work, there is this tree (it's more of a shrub right now but it will be a tree) that was dying for the longest time. It is on the edge of all the other trees of its same type and unfortunately it was neglected for too long. All of the employees walk past it everyday and pay no attention to the dying tree that sits on the edge of the shelf in the heat, where it is never watered. The leaves have all fallen except for one branch that still remains green but the soil is dry and the other branches are brittle and burned. We, including myself, thought it was a lost cause to care for the tree that has been overlooked for months. It held on for as long as it could watching as we all walked past with buckets of water, plant food, fertilizer, and water hoses that spew water all over the concrete. It watched as we watered its peers and then looked at its brown body in disgust and awaited the day it would be thrown in the garbage for being completely dead. Holding on with its one live branch and roots in the dry dirt in the container that confined the plant to its personal hell, waiting for someone to even wish it well.

As I was watering one day I looked at this shrub that should be a tree and looked at it and looked at it and looked at it. I thought about how it must feel to be that tree sitting there being burned slowly alive and no one cares, everyone walks by waiting for you to die so they can throw you away. (The plant distributors will not allow us to throw away plants unless they are completely dead) The more I thought about it the more I realized that I treat people the very same way we all treated this shrub that should be a tree. I walk past people who need me, who need just someone to care; someone to just listen to them and bring them out of the heat and save them from their personal hell they are contained in and cannot get out by themselves. I see these people, they are acquaintances, strangers, and friends who just want someone to give them advice, tell them they aren't alone, to pull them into the shade and water them. Just like the shrub that should be a tree there are people who should be my friend and I don't allow that. I hold onto friends who never really needed any watering or care, and I kept the shrub out of the range of the sprinkler just like I keep people out of my heart, I break them down and slowly kill them (emotionally) to where they don't want to be my friend they are waiting to be thrown away. They hold on for months and years and sit on the edge of my heart and I do nothing, I walk past them and invest in friends who are fine. These people wait for me to stop and look at them and look at them and look at them and realize that I could help them through what they are contained in, I could bring them into the shade and water them. I could care for them and let these people turn into friends like they should be. I'm going to care for them, it's what God created me to do.

The shrub that should be a tree has now been put in the shade and watered not only by sprinklers, but is also hand watered everyday that I work. It has been placed in the center of all of its tree friends and so far looks like it is going to make a recovery.

we all need friends

A friend, that is what you need,
someone who listens, sheds skin,
anyone who is there to be there
not somebody ready to recieve,
but somebody like a pool of water
that you can indulge in,
water doesn't talk back, it listens,
like a friend,

you need someone you can jump into
for shelter, to cool down, to listn to you,
a pool of water to ripple, splash, dive,
to keep you afloat, to make you light, and boyant
you need a pool of water
not to drink but to listen,
to cover you in liquid,
shower you and cleanse you,
to befriend you,

you need a friend like a pool of water



(not directed at anyone just think that everyone could use a friend like this)