300

This is a poem. The post is underneath it. I just watched the movie Slam starring Saul Williams and decided to share one of my poems. I made it all bold, so you can skip past it easily. However, if you are interested here it is.

Yesterday was the 300th day I have been in this country. 300. That seems like a fairly substantial amount of time.

If time is just a numb3r I can divide it, or add it, or subtract it. It’s mathematic.

My choices are eternal, and as I write in this journal,
I notice my organs are not all internal.
In fact, look, here is my heart,
Displayed unabashedly upon my sleeve.
And yes, you best believe, what I believe will be noticed.
And though, I’m not a photographer my words will be my focus.
I snap pictures with phrases and synonyms,
My images viewed in my sentences,
My witnesses, are you, and you will be the interpreter.

I am the spirit, you are the shaman.
I’m the solutions, you solve the problem,
I am the passion, you are the action.
I’m the muse you use while you’re crashing.

But if I’m truly pure, then yes, I must become flesh.
To hold the weapons of humanity and slash until I take my last breaths.
You see, I cannot deride you unless I am standing beside you.
And if I plan on being, I can’t just hide behind my reading.
I’ve got to take the initiative to make the change and to see the derivative.

And yes, freedom fighters all think in calculus,
Because though it may seem miraculous,
Paradigm shifting can’t be done without momentum.
There I am, you see me sprinting.
I’m a coward, but I’m unrelenting.
I’m afraid, but I’m pretty damn stubborn,
And I can’t let them burst my bubble.

Because I’m the one bringing trouble.

And though the world will think I’m the bad guy
In the end when I’m gone, they will stand by,
And think, “Why did we wait so long?”

So, so long . . .

Goodbye . . .

Oh, don’t worry I’ll be back.

I grow and die and grow again,
It’s the cycle we all are living in.
Notice that we’re all evolving
And our issues are not self-solving,
Though it hurts to see us not winning,
Good always triumphs by the ending.
I will suck up my tears and start again from the beginning.

Yes, in my head, I see things,
I have tangerine flavored dreams,
I see apples growing on cherry trees,
And all of the sort they say is impossible.
Maybe that’s why I believe we’re unstoppable.

Tearing down hearts instead of walls,
And cultivating ideas and making calls.
I are we, so there we am,
Holding up fists and fighting for stands,
Coming up with master plans,
Instead of burying heads in sands.

My biggest fear is still water.
My biggest fear is sick daughters.
My biggest fear is imaginary numbers,
Dead sisters and brothers,
Not you, but me, instead of each other.

I will close my eyes tonight and dream of what is to come.

I will wage war and be a fire starter.
And listen, if I become a martyr
Remember this, when you’re about to falter,
They can’t kill the idea, only the authors.*

If you read the poem, I hope you enjoyed it. If not, moving on . . .

300 days really does seem like a substantial amount of time to be in a new place. I still feel very “green” very new. And yet, I just applied to help the new trainees. You know, teaching them the important things like proper cockroach removal techniques. Here it is displayed RPG game manual style.

A little lame I know.

Your starting weapon is a

Slipper

ATK: 50 Range: 20 Speed: 40

Most levels have a broom upgrade, but sometimes you’ll have to purchase one.

Broom

ATK: 40 Range: 50 Speed: 60

The next weapon is best for dungeons with many enemies.

Bug Spray

ATK: 1-100 (increases with time) Range: 100 Speed: 100

When the player reaches level 20 he/she will gain the The Closest Thing Near Me Ability. It allows the player to make use of all things as weapons. Including but not limited to books, other shoes, and even liquids.

In less than 100 days I will have been in this country for an entire year. It’s strange how time passes so fast and so slow all at once. It is fascinating.

I’m dealing with my stuff (read: issues) by taking care of myself better and not dwelling so much. I’m moving, so that’s good. I had a long conversation with my girlfriend that forced me to verbalize my passions, and as I did (though maybe partially to her chagrin) I became re-energized and more stubborn to live a life dedicated to making the world better. I feel like that sounds pretentious, but living for a life that is comfortable seems empty. Well, unless it is improving the world somehow. Until the world is perfect (heh), we have no right to live lazy, complacent, comfortable lives. It’s good that I re-examined my goals and dreams, however. Like good ol’ Socrates says, “The unexamined life is not worth living” I guess my life is still worth living, eh?

I guess I better stop now. I feel like I have been too preachy as of late. I will tone it down next time. Hopefully.

Much Love,

– Brandon Holly –

*The poem is kind of about being a writer and an activist and how they are not mutually exclusive, but they create mental storms not unlike the physical ones created by the collision of cool dry polar air and warm moist tropical air. In other words, when I’m DOING I don’t write and when I WRITE I’m not doing.