Sarcasm

Wasting time
talking of those we don't really care about
talking to those we don't really care about
Why do we bother?
Sense of acceptance
Communication
Fitting in
Filling the silence
Sense of community
My, this pencil writes beautifully!
Or is it me?
I suppose I'll never see him again
Unless by chance
Probably its better this way.
But it's a bit sad.
We could've had a friendship.
Alas.
Alas! Alas! Alas!
What could be in a world without fear...

The soul of a poet is vibrant and faded
My, my, my...isn't that LOVELY?
If I part my hair this way, or wear it in curl
shall you love me?
And where is the key to the hidden back gate?
Why did you let it become overgrown with vines and decay?
It didn't deserve to be treated that way.
No, not today.
Or tomorrow for that matter.
Probably never.
Perhaps in 2 years.
The alarm will go off and my heart will break anew
or scoff at a past self
or smile at a silly game
or turn and face the rising sun to soak up the rays
forgetting it is still locked out of the garden.

The Build Up

With boots on my feet
And shoes in my bag
The affluence of my place in society is evident.
And though my lunchbox
is torn and stained with years of use
there is a lunch inside it.
And should I be still hungry,
a card in my bag (which is new by the way)
will get me all the nourishment I need.
Well, physically at least.

But you see, I wanna live the simple life
Not Paris & Nicole
Not a trailer park girl wannabe
But the life that doesn't need
one more shirt, one more beauty product
a new phone, a big house.
And its so easy to blame society for making us this way.
But I am society.
I am the consumer.
I eat up the diseased messages they feed me.
Starving.
And I pull out my card
and try to feed myself.
And come away hungrier than before.
And angry.
Angry at society.
Big, mean society
that wants to destroy my hope and crush my passion.
But I bought into it.
With 2 plates in front of me,
I chose the one within easy reach
and filled with candy
and gorged myself
till I was sick.

So I walk away
and try to leave the nausea behind.
I do not want to be uncomfortable.
But the couch is lumpy
and the floor is hard
and the arms of the world are weak and conditional
only offering side hugs at their convenience
with no one to work the graveyard shift.

Disillusioned
Disenchanted
Disheartened
Disregarded

My stomach is grumbling
and my heart is broken.
And I know where to find the food and the tools
A voice says " Come to me and I will fill you
Come to me and I will mend you
Come to me and I will comfort you
I will delight in you and love you"
I'll try.

But not really.

I am the unathlectically gifted grade 8 girl
who joined the team to look cool
and get a participation ribbon.
I accept my skill level
and do not listen to the coach.
I did not come to learn.
But as my teamamtes improve
I am left behind
I am not a part of their victories.

Back to where I started
After all, its my trademark move.
So I put on my headphones
and pump up the volume
louder and louder and louder and louder
until I drown out the world

Escapism
HA!
Because I'm not really escaping.
I'm making it worse.
Until my heart is nothing but broken, worn out pieces of what was once there.
Until I walk to the middle
of a big open field
and cry.
And finally face my mess.
Because inside me, like so many others
is a messy tangle of my sins and the sins against me
So hopelessly tangled that only a master could even begin to sort it out

So I walk up to his house
to spend time with him every day
and he works on the knot
Slowly, and painfully
it comes undone.
And as it does, I realize
to live that simple life
is to make the simplest decision.
Accept an offer
An offer I refused far too many times to count
Still available, despite my poor qualifications

Love
Free love
I am a flower child of the 60's
under the influence
And suddenly my eyes are open
to a colourful world
that was always there
but that I had refused to see

Now comes the hard part.
Now comes the good part.

I'm Angry, Glen

I'm angry Glen.

I’m angry at Glen. He’s always polite to me and I’m angry.

He shouldn’t challenge the pain of my mistake. It’s my disaster. It’s my learning.

Glen is constantly caught up in his paperwork, leveraging the isolation of the world for his own economic gain.
Not mine.
No, my pain is my own. And Glen will not take it away from me with his polite beliefs and his culture of paperwork.

I’m angry, Glen.
You tell me the youth of this world shouldn’t be angry. That I am young and ignorant and I haven’t experience and I know nothing.

What do you know, Glen? You haven’t seen the world through the eyes of anyone but yourself since you were born and I hate you for it.

How dare you try to take my passion.

How dare you mock my pain with your dismissive polite dares and passive aggressive chortles, your deafness.

You don’t know me, Glen. And you don’t know my people.
We are strong and we are hurting.
We are angry and we are learning.

I know people, Glen.

You know, the ones you’re trying to escape.

We’re full of piss and vinegar and we’re gonna piss on you and yours.

You know nothing, Glen. You can’t take peoples’ pain from them.
It’s my struggle.
Capitalize on that, Glen.

We thought it would be a good idea to post some creative things we have been working on lately. Creativity is something we will strongly encourage and support in our house. These are works that have been created under the influence of recent happenings in our lives, some of which include developing ideas for this house. So...here they are!