apocalypse

something i wrote, inspired by the road by cormac mccarthy.

they had come on the news saying all would be okay
the smiling hand shakers that pretended to be movers
they said that we were prepared for this.
nothing could have been further from the truth.

that night, the black came full
the overpowering color of hate came to the skies
the billowing clouds and the pillars of dust
that came and took my world away

the world is black and all i've left
is this part of me that was born that day
in the hospital of revelations at 12:07
the glittering scales shimmered in the sun

now we walk the road that is littered with the flesh of the dead
we talk and survive and do the best we can
i teach him to survive because i know the truth
i am soon to die and he will be alone

we head to the ocean hoping to find someone else like us
another carrier of the light, someone we can trust
instead we find the cattle herds of survivors
being raised for their harvested limbs for food

we raise in the morning, we are walking dead
the flesh droops from his too old face
someone as young as he should not have seen this much pain
why did this have to happen to him?

we come upon an unused shelter, a gift from a nonexistent god
for surely if he existed, he would not allow this to happen
but at least we have this haven for a few lonely days
the less you think, the less you feel

we are living in hell, always hungry, always scavenging
he is losing weight, i am coughing through the night
the ultimate ending is soon to come for me
but what will become of him after i am gone

should i make this easier for him? the thought enters my mind
i hold the tool in my pockets, two metal tickets for a train
heading straight out of hell but to where i don't know
i hope that it will not come to that

today we came across a hunter, wanting to kill us for our flesh
the depravity of it is mindblowing
my actions must be justified, i did what i had to do
i protected my last piece of peace by putting one of the tickets in the hunters brain

this morning i didn't wake up and he cried over my body
his thoughts turned to his future, he had never considered this
"what will i do, i don't know what to do
i am lost, i am scared, i am going to die"

now he is just waiting for someone, somebody to help
in this world of pain and this hell of hate
someone does come and offers him shelter
but to help him or kill him, i'll never know

art

while i was in new york city, i went to the museum of modern art, mainly to see the sculptural exhibition of richard serra. according to my cousin cari-esta, it was a once in a lifetime experience and i truly enjoyed it. his work is challenging and epic. my dad and i entered the museum first because of good planning on his part and so we were able to get some pictures of me in the work that would have been impossible at any other point while there.

i was also privileged enough to see the first american exhibition by dan perjovschi, a romanian artist who in completely inspired by the current state of the media and its representation of current events. he creates grafitti inspired, site-specific drawings with a "big fat black marker" that are in a way comic, but far more intelligent and thought provoking than most comics could dream of. he is constantly offering what appears at first glance to be simply funny drawing but when reviewed are quite incisive to the current social state of the world and intelligent. i greatly enjoyed the exhibition and hope to see him gain some exposure in the states.

writing

this is not written by aesop rock as the previous one, but by me:

i don't see why superficial assholes who only think of sex
so easily get good girls out of their dress
i do all things right method acting as myself
i sacrilegiously go through life ringing the rusted bell
the rocket toting lethargic tourists around me
wave their flying peace signs on kite string
this american dream of life in school
drinking, fucking, hating all that's not "cool"
this anti-aesthetic fear of art is struck down
by those who listen, their endangering the crown
worn by a king who can't sit upon the falsely furnished throne
and order all about, "be this and that you disinterested clone"
these people strike down the fear of love and life and pain
really are well endowed, the world is theirs to gain