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Article posted April 26, 2012 at 03:29 AM GMT •
comment (1) • Reads 289
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War and the Popular Vote: As it involves the risk of American lives, whether or not America declares war on another country should be put to a popular vote, not solely by the government. America is supposed to be based off of democracy. With this foundation, we the people are supposed to hold supreme power. In most cases American citizens vote and the government tries to give social equality. But, the government over looks one of the most important subjects without giving citizens a say so: war. They send drafts to American boys and men to be sent to war against their will and put every American citizen in a dangerous position many do not want to be involved in. This is the most unjust act that can be committed. Every single American is affected; no one is left untouched by war. The people of America should be able to vote on whether or not they want “their” country to go to war no matter what the circumstances are. Everyone should have their beliefs and opinions looked at in the form of voting. American citizens should not have to sit by and watch “their” country go to pieces. Even if the result from the vote was to go to war, at least the people would feel a little better knowing they had some kind of chance in the decision. Who is to say the government is above its people? There is absolutely no justice when decisions are made up for someone by officials who think they know best. We the people should be able to make every choice for our selves, not by the government. Where is the supreme power we were promised? When it comes to war, it is obsolete.
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Article posted April 26, 2012 at 03:29 AM GMT •
comment (1) • Reads 289
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They Call Me Flower Child
Article posted April 22, 2012 at 03:31 PM GMT •
comment • Reads 54
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When I was in about fifth grade I went with my dad to one of our many trips to his friend Dave’s parent’s house. I’ve been going there for as long as I can remember. The house was huge and really, really old and they owned a crawfish pond and a large amount of land all around. It was one of my favorite places to go when I was younger. We all went walking in the woods to make trails and ride 4-wheelers and in the midst of being there my dad picked a flower and gave it to me. It was tiny and colorful, a simple flower but yet it is still one of the prettiest flowers I have ever seen. I believe its meaning from that moment brought all of the beauty to its simplicity. I kept it in a safe place until about seventh grade when I bought a silver necklace that opened. It had little designs shaped with the silver so you can kind of see inside. I put the flower he picked for me those few years earlier into the necklace. To this day I still have the little flower in the necklace and you can see its aging through the little silver designs, but its meaning to me has only grown. When I look at the necklace with the soul filled and heartfelt flower inside I am back flowing through all of my memories of me and my dad. There is no negative energy from it, just euphoria and maybe a little nostalgia for my childhood. I have not looked at it or held it in a long, long time and now that I am sitting here writing this and holding the flower it me makes me realize how the little moments are what matter the most, to me at least. Something so simple brings me to a peaceful atmosphere. I do not even know if he remembers that day and I definitely know he does not know I still have it or what it means to me; I will tell him one day. This is one of those memories that shaped me, no matter how small it seems in the eyes of someone else. This flower means so much to me. It scares me to think that was seven years ago, it seems like yesterday. Just like the flower I am going to remain free and growing on the inside, what my dad would want. I think it is very symbolic of us two and our relationship. I will carry my flower and its secret life for ever and ever.
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Article posted April 22, 2012 at 03:31 PM GMT •
comment • Reads 54
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They Call Me Flower Child
Article posted April 22, 2012 at 03:30 PM GMT •
comment • Reads 40
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When I was in about fifth grade I went with my dad to one of our many trips to his friend Dave’s parent’s house. I’ve been going there for as long as I can remember. The house was huge and really, really old and they owned a crawfish pond and a large amount of land all around. It was one of my favorite places to go when I was younger. We all went walking in the woods to make trails and ride 4-wheelers and in the midst of being there my dad picked a flower and gave it to me. It was tiny and colorful, a simple flower but yet it is still one of the prettiest flowers I have ever seen. I believe its meaning from that moment brought all of the beauty to its simplicity. I kept it in a safe place until about seventh grade when I bought a silver necklace that opened. It had little designs shaped with the silver so you can kind of see inside. I put the flower he picked for me those few years earlier into the necklace. To this day I still have the little flower in the necklace and you can see its aging through the little silver designs, but its meaning to me has only grown. When I look at the necklace with the soul filled and heartfelt flower inside I am back flowing through all of my memories of me and my dad. There is no negative energy from it, just euphoria and maybe a little nostalgia for my childhood. I have not looked at it or held it in a long, long time and now that I am sitting here writing this and holding the flower it me makes me realize how the little moments are what matter the most, to me at least. Something so simple brings me to a peaceful atomosphere. I do not even know if he remembers that day and I definitely know he does not know I still have it or what it means to me; I will tell him one day. This is one of those memories that shaped me, no matter how small it seems in the eyes of someone else. This flower means so much to me. It scares me to think that was seven years ago, it seems like yesterday. Just like the flower I am going to remain free and growing on the inside, what my dad would want. I think it is very symbolic of us two and our relationship. I will carry my flower and its secret life for ever and ever.
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Article posted April 22, 2012 at 03:30 PM GMT •
comment • Reads 40
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Reflecting on The Vietnam War
Article posted April 17, 2012 at 11:52 PM GMT •
comment • Reads 63
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Believed to be the most controversial war in history, the Vietnam war lasted from 1954 to 1973. The US got involved to help South Vietnam prevent communist forces, North Vietnam and the Vietcong, from taking over all of Vietnam. This war caused despising sides between Americans because while there were many protesting against it there were also many along side with the government. Thousands of American boys and men were drafted into the war; without any say they were forced to go into battle. Over 58,000 Americans died in Vietnam and tragically more than two million Vietnamese soldiers and innocent civilians were killed. Eventually it came to a point where American victory was no where in sight. This misleading by the government resulted in many Americans losing faith and trust in their government. After all was said and done, after all the lives that were lost and the ones who were left mentally and physically wounded, in 1975 North Vietnam succeeded in taking over all of Vietnam. This war brought strong Americans together with antiwar movements and radical protests while also tearing some apart with troubling revelations about the government. One can now see what is left from the Vietnam war through thousands of pictures with thousands of words flowing through them, and many poems reflecting the thoughts and beliefs of its witnesses who tell the dark clouded stories.
Rosenburg, Jennifer. "Vietnam War." About.com 20th Century History. About.com. Web. 17 Apr. 2012. <http://history1900s.about.com/od/vietnamwar/a/vietnamwar.htm>.
Nelson, Cary. "About the Vietnam War." Welcome to English « Department of English, College of LAS, University of Illinois. Modern American Poetry. Web. 17 Apr. 2012. <http://www.english.illinois.edu/maps/vietnam/vietnamwar.htm>.
PBS. "Battlefield Vietnam." PBS. PBS. Web. 17 Apr. 2012. <http://www.pbs.org/battlefieldvietnam/>.
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Article posted April 17, 2012 at 11:52 PM GMT •
comment • Reads 63
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Bohemian
Article posted February 25, 2012 at 05:54 PM GMT •
comment • Reads 102
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My mother is the sky
My father is the earth
I am the universe
A different kind of tribe
Rhythms and roots
Foundation laid by
Music Art Culture Soul
Open minds
Free souls
Painted faces
Good vibes
Nourished by dreams
Seduce the spirit
Bare hands dig into the earth
The arms of all I’m keeping
Somewhere along the way you lose yourself in and out
Hair dancing in the wind
Paint caressing skin
Pebbles humming under your feet
A gleaming hallucination
The way I move
A foreign groove
Lay on you like water
Growing my roots around your rib cage
Pluck the petals of the flowers under your collarbones
My light flowing through your veins
My fingers touch your sleeping lips
As you drink me in
Feel us tiptoeing
Our spirits run naked thru the cities of the universe
So deeply rooted it wakes the earth
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Article posted February 25, 2012 at 05:54 PM GMT •
comment • Reads 102
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Bohemian
Article posted February 17, 2012 at 02:29 PM GMT •
comment • Reads 89
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My mother is the sky
My father is the earth
I am the universe
A different kind of tribe
Rhythms and roots
Foundation laid by
Music Art Culture Soul
Open minds
Free souls
Painted faces
Good vibes
Nourished by dreams
Seduce the spirit
Bare hands dig into the earth
The arms of all I’m keeping
Somewhere along the way you lose yourself in and out
Hair dancing in the wind
Paint caressing skin
Pebbles humming under your feet
A gleaming hallucination
The way I move
A foreign groove
Lay on you like water
Growing my roots around your rib cage
Pluck the petals of the flowers under your collarbones
My light flowing through your veins
My fingers touch your sleeping lips
As you drink me in
Feel us tiptoeing
Our spirits run naked thru the cities of the universe
So deeply rooted it wakes the earth
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Article posted February 17, 2012 at 02:29 PM GMT •
comment • Reads 89
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Bohemian
Article posted February 15, 2012 at 05:32 PM GMT •
comment • Reads 66
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We’re a different kind of tribe
Rhythms and roots
Foundation laid by
Music Art Culture Soul
Open minds
Free souls
Painted faces
Good vibes
Nourished by dreams
Seduce the spirit
Bare hands dig into the earth
The arms of all I’m keeping
Somewhere along the way you lose yourself in and out
Your hair dancing in the wind
The paint caressing your skin
Pebbles humming under your feet
A gleaming hallucination
The way I move
A foreign groove
Lay on you like water
Growing my roots around your rib cage
Pluck the petals of the flowers under your collarbones
My light flowing through your veins
My fingers touch your sleeping lips
As you drink me in
Feel us tiptoeing
Our spirits run naked thru the cities of the universe
So deeply rooted it wakes the earth
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Article posted February 15, 2012 at 05:32 PM GMT •
comment • Reads 66
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Nirvana
Article posted January 5, 2012 at 12:38 AM GMT •
comment (1) • Reads 125
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Where do I begin to begin? I found Louie when he was lost. He had murdered his being, a subtle kind of murder with a smile on his face. Of all the things he lost he missed his soul the most, but sometimes we lose our plot in life. Having a bare canvas he was homesick for a place he had never been. He had no perception. He thought I was a myth and he was so foreign to me. I first saw him in my dreams and when I woke up where he was all I could see of him was his shadow. I felt him tiptoeing; it was the sound I had been looking for. I wanted to live inside his delicate bones and soak into his skin. I was a breath of fresh air into the lungs of someone like him. I was like an anthropologist taking back his cultural destiny. He hated me because I had what he needed. I told him to meditate, to be curious not judgmental. So I held the hand inside of him. I made him feel sensations he thought was dead, he loved the feel I brought. Louie was the one I decided who could be one of my kind.
Through my wild eyes I brought him too escapism, my reality. I brought him into a place where he bloomed. With my LSD pencil I twisted him bringing out the essence. We drifted here and there in and out of dreams, to the bottom of the reefs. My tribe blew his mind. Picking acoustic roots I planted him into Pandora’s seed with a rhythm so deeply painted it woke his soul. It let the ecstasy drip into the swirls and whirls of his mind. Like the trees he swayed to the melodies. I revealed him to himself. He learned to pet the wolf and to let his senses run naked. He is now humble for he is made of earth. Now he leaves his own trace of color. With music we paint pictures and create atmospheres. We breathe, we dream, we create.
Beautiful people do not just happen. We are too weird but too rare to die. We believe in open minds and free spirits. We live by the sun and love by the moon. We are a different kind of tribe. My name is Livy; I bring life through the supreme state of free bliss, to unearth one’s individual existence. Whether I led him to illumination or degradation depends on the spirit in which one takes them. But always remember that we are made out of real life.
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Article posted January 5, 2012 at 12:38 AM GMT •
comment (1) • Reads 125
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