April 19, 2013

This Is Our Song

 by: amica paige

Just because you’re caught
Doesn’t make things right
The people are hurt,
the children are dead
When you pulled that trigger
and lit that cooker.


Just because you’re dead
Doesn’t make things fine
Those who remained—a part of them died
When you pulled that trigger
and lit that cooker.


But because you‘re caught
There’s one less dirt
No one gets hurt,
no child will die...
until one of your kind
looses his mind...

And because you’re dead
There’s one less scum
Nobody gets hurt,
no child will die
Until one of your kind
looses his mind...


And because we’re here
All of US hear
The havoc you man,
the destruction we see
Yet for life,
we stand.



For Boston, we stand. For Newtown, we stand. For New York we stand.
For the children, we stand. For the women, we stand.
For the voiceless, the helpless, and the blood of the innocent, we stand.
Because despite all our differences, we stand. For life.

This is our song. Though our bodies may fail, our spirits prevail.
Life overcomes evil.

January 18, 2013

To IG or not to IG - that is the question...

..and the dilemma. We should have seen it coming. Of course, the usual course of things once they’ve grown from their humble beginnings is to protect their interests and keep a firm hold of their properties, even others’, in some cases, unfortunately, or not.

To illustrate, let’s say a toaster suddenly decides to merely warm a slice of bread without the bread owner’s permission. (For simplicity’s sake, let’s not ask if the owner is actually the baker, or we’d complicate the picture and mess up any allusion herein.) Or let’s say the same toaster suddenly starts burning all the bread that enters its slots without the owner’s permission, and the owner happens to be the same person who put the toaster to good use in the first place, which is really a sort of employment; and if that toaster could speak, I would highly suggest that it thank its person. Now the person finds himself/herself in a jam that should have never occurred in the first place, since it could actually have been helped, if only the toaster hadn’t entertained any wild ideas. Plus the person doesn’t even like jam in his/her sandwich.

So should the owner stick with its toaster and their shaky relationship due to the latter’s questionable reliability, and perhaps suffer even more severe burns in the future? Remember, anything is possible. Or should the person dump the toaster, which has become too big for its own good, and sever the bond they once shared. Now the toaster claims to have ownership of the owner’s bread, and God forbid it goes for the person’s head next. If it were your bread, what would your person do? Keep your head in mind as you figure this out.

One way to deal with this knotty situation is to take a different slant. Let’s take a look at creativity, for example. While thieves, impostors, and copycats continue their acts of thievery, forgery, and all manners of trickery, all the real creatives—the true owners of original artistic expressions, executed through various mediums and under the guidance of their creative visions—will have only been consumed by their own new projects. They’re always onto their next novel thing, innovating while trying to keep up with and stay true to their visions. True creatives are carried ever forward by this creative flow. There is no stopping this natural creative process. It is an endless overflow that only goes towards the direction of its own unadulterated, creative spirit; and that, my friends, can never be manufactured nor fabricated. ‘It is what it is’; creativity is, though you have to forgive me for the tired, old cliché.

Then again, reality hits and gravity holds our feet to keep us from our lofty ideas and ideals. Maybe I should sleep on this one after I create a few more images over milk and cookies, and a pot of Joe. Then I can decide if I should stay, or I should go. What do you plan to do with your Instagram account, knowing that it is now Facebook's property?

January 10, 2013

LIFe...eARTh...heART...heARTh.

by amica paige




of joy, of pain
of home, of friends,
of fantasies and predicaments,
of heroes and victims,
at times these are
one and the same—
roses and thorns.

stars and dust,
the stuff of life is deemed
from without, come within,
and the world is seen
this is my subject,
my awed impressions
this is my art and soul’s expression.

October 4, 2012

Ode to Life (poeTry)

***In honor of National Poetry Day

by amica paige


Uplift us to your heights
We'll ride the winds of time
upon your eager wings.

Take us to your depths

Adrift, we only kiss
your face when lost at sea.

Pull us past your dirt

deep within your hearth.
We'll fan your dying heart.

Then shoot us out of here

Spring us up with fire
into the open haze...

where the clouds will cradle us

if only for a moment,
as in our mothers' wombs...

And through a hundred cycles,

we'll tread the sea again
until the end of time

when Earth decides to hurl

our silent ashes up,
spent as offerings.

Did God have joyful tears?

We're glorious winged specks,
creation's golden dust.

We'll shine it, all the light

we muster from the heavens,
reflect it to each other.

Because even the spineless worms

can see the senselessness
in your rampant absurdities...

So fill us with thy breadth.

We'll ride your fickle wind
and spread our hidden wings.

Ode to Nature (poeTry)

***In honor of National Poetry Day.

by amica paige


Nature, nature
Pensive stature
Reds, yellows, and oranges
Blues, greens, and violets.

We marvel at thy breadth
Mountain heights and ocean's depths
Morning dew on summer leaves
Icicles on winter trees.

Nature, nature
Golden stature
Dirt...hydrogen...oxygen...burns
Air...water...fire...and earth...

We marvel at thy breadth
Glorious heights and cosmos' stars
Moonlight shades of autumn wind
Early buds of April spring.

September 20, 2012

Bestir. (poeTry)

by amica paige


Be still, my fear
we're fine, refined
our actions speak
their words that don't

Bestir, my dear

our spirit's free
the heart doth see
whose minds are blind

Be strong, dear one

though oceans rise
we, both, we'll ride
the tides of lies

Be well, dear friend

we'll strive and thrive
illuminate
the darkest nights

Be mine, beloved

we'll wine and dine
we'll sing and dance
they'll chant, who can't

Abide, let us

please stay, I pray
though kingdoms fall
we'll live it all.

A Bright New Day...Aneurysm.


by amica paige

This day was going to be his last. If he only knew some twilights ago, he would have tried harder to preserve on canvas the moments lavender kissed the evening sky. Next, he would have looked for artistic venues with more intent. What a delight this sudden change of air in him would bring to his family and friends, but he'd have to put off the news until later. An early morning run at the park, free of any encumbrance, his cell phone included, was exactly what he needed to mark this new beginning. His thoughts flitted past his dimming mind as he lay on the track by the river, his bright eyes reflecting the blue expanse above as his heartbeat slowed to a stop.