May 24, 2013

Emily, Emiy, where aRT thou? [POETry]

by: amica paige


Emily, Emily, where aRT thou now?
Can you hear us? Can they see us,
those with you—
are Poe and Bukowski?

We wring our guts from the foods we ate

We swallowed a rock we can't digest
The sharpest parts stabs our chests
We choke our tears to gasp for breath

Lost at sea, what have we chased?—

The seeds we'd tossed—have the beanstalks raised
the beast that slays the golden sun?
The rotten egg has spoiled the fun.

Our faces drawn—a bitter frown

Our heads, weighed down—a painted crown
Is it just us? We must have made
a wrong turn somewhere there...

We've meant to change this course we're on

If we turn here, will we stay long?
“I'll be your guide,” I hope you say—
Please don't mind me say.

Emily, Emily, where aRT thou now?

Can you see us? Can they hear us,
those with you—
are Poe and Bukowski?

The Muse At The Seams. [poeTry]

by: amica paige


Perpetual disarray.
Discombobulated
and knotted hair.
A feet of floss
for an inch of green...
Broccoli...parsley,
all else in between.
You peered in the mirror,
so as not to be seen.
A fleet of Albatross!—
your flitting mind screamed.
You knelt down right
before you jumped in.
The morning shower
you now lingered in...
thoughts discomfiting
and late lunch sans cream.

A peek at thy thoughts show
the muse at the seams...

Still Life... Or Calm Before The Storm. [poeTry]

by: amica paige


Ominous sky outside.
Dark clouds surrounding us.
Yet the preachers preach their thing,
and the audience, and the leaves, hang still.
A storm must be brewing near.

Unlike the APPles...red and green,
the brushes—all frayed, unseen...
Yet the hands like to draw neat things,
though the air 'round here stays still.
A storm must be brewing near.

May 20, 2013

Today is done. [poeTry]

by: amica paige


Today is done.
Nothing else to be sung.
We shall close our eyes
one two many times to-night
We begin the descent this eve
and fall into another deep sleep
We shall rest like this,
we’re designed like it.
Then we rise again,
and on and on again.

Home [poeTry]

by: amica paige


you're a bird,
guided by moonlight,
calling the wind

you're a bird,
perched on the crowns
of elms and evergreens

you're a bird,
riding with time,
spanning the seas

you're a bird,
soaring the heavens,
spreading your wings

you're a bird,
roaming the world,
but the air is your home.









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?