Chants/update on life

i read last night at an open mic presented by The Giraffe Catcher Poetry crew and it was quite a lovely evening...i read some poems that arent up here, but will be sooner or later...i didnt read this one so i figured i would put it up...its titled

Chants

Listening to the Buddhist chant of the monks of India,
I stretch reflecting upon the six hours of awakeness.
Happily I sift through positions of balance and silences,
The mysterious mind aiding echoes of prayer guide my conscious.
Into literature I dive becoming a kid on the hillside.
My hair soft and fresh hangs in front of my eyes adding to the shade,
Soon poems of the night before play quite confidence.
Without anticipation flow breaths of humming tones deep and fitting.
Crossed legs fit together as legos providing base for arch ways.
Into my heart spiritual ecstasy runs tuning me into the flowers.
New lines of compassion form baskets of pillows.
Sudden visions of self create heart beats of open strength.
With unaccounted for gales of freshness my lungs take to pulses of thought.
Uniquely simple splotches of airy alarm bring me to shine.
Forward I migrate towards patience of fast exploration,
Studying alongside tradition I transcend into beautifully written anarchy.

-jared a muscat

Compassion Found Again

From cardboard of creativity,
Into the ears of my mind comes story of zen passivity,
Fueling long paced loud breaths of personal mirrors,
Sewing together words of belief and unexpected hums of patience and forward thought,
Revealing inside senses with worth pride and temporary inspirational fulfillment.

Willing now to nakedly collapse into the fields of flower and knowledge,
Singing expression enveloped in remembered compassion and unrelenting will,
Effortlessly thanking outside powers of informality,
And finally un-closing the shade of retreat,
Laughing with hearts of activity.

-jared a muscat

Standing Up

Here I am,
Standing in front of you.
With painful scars visible and hidden,
With strength noteworthy and exposed,
I stand not alone, I stand alone.
To one side are legions of supporters,
To the other are legions of opposed.
Both, with so much to say.
Both, stubborn as mules.
Neither is wrong,
Neither is per say, correct.
Embarrassed by radicals.
Embarrassed by slackers.
Here I stand,
Free to criticism,
Free to praise.
I stand as an activist,
A failure,
A gay,
A straight,
A slut,
A virgin,
A Hispanic, Asian, African, Muslim, Catholic, Jew, American, Buddhist.
I stand as a farmer,
As a paper firm,
As a meat lover,
As a vegan.
I stand before you offering everything,
I stand before you offering nothing.
I am a soldier, seaman, fighter pilot,
I am a protestor, communist, peace lover.
I don’t drink or do drugs.
I love beer and gin, as well as vodka and tequila.
I do LSD,
I snort coke,
I smoke pot,
I shoot heroin,
I deal pounds,
I listened to my parents,
I ran away.

When will it be obvious?
When will the world get along?
When will we say sorry?
I am not going to say sorry,
I act in the name of the Holy Lord, Allah, and the United States of America.
I am a doctor, I know how to heal,
I am fat, skinny, sick, in shape, infected, and need medicine.
I practice yoga,
I use herbal remedies,
I go to the gym,
I bike in the park,
I run on the sand,
I sit on the couch for days at a time.
I don’t want to let the Mexicans in,
I want to help the Mexicans assimilate.
I want to cut back spending,
I want to better education,
I work for my work I share,
I work for my money it’s mine.
I think the planet is getting too hot and it’s your fault,
I don’t worry about global morning, I wont be around.
I stand here seeking judgment.
I dress in fashion,
I have piercings and tattoos,
I dress with mixed patterns.
I have a 4.0,
I got a 2200 on my SAT’s,
I am on Academic Probation,
I drive a bus.
I read the news and know the events of the world,
I don’t read the news,
I read the news and have no clue what is going on.
In front of you I stand,
In front of you I am not noticed.
Until I do something wrong,
Until I cause a ruckus,
Then, I will be in the news,
Then, I will remain exposed.

-jared a muscat

International Walk

Sit along I-Walk on any day of the studying week, Sunday through Saturday, and you’re sure to receive a genuinely warm hello,
It is truly a magical stretch of well placed squares of concrete creating a path of great intrigue and distinction.
There are the lovingly long conversations in the varied languages of the world,
There are groups of kids weighed down by backpacks of books on their way to life’s lessons and life’s classes,
There is that crazy crew of boys playingly dancing with that colorful noisy little ball creating a scene and a roadblock,
There are the cigarette butts of heavy sticks of unrelenting nicotine resting on those comfortable dually colored concrete benches,
In the windows are lazily hung flags of many nations and proudly presented posters of political thought and streaked blue and gold paintings of Triton Spirit,
In the windows are small gatherings of friends spread through the common dining room living room kitchen area going about their collegiate ways,
In the windows are happily prepared suppers from foreign countries hastily found on the cook books of the world wide web,
In the windows are endless rounds laughter, scholarly debate, tears, spiritual speech, beer, marijuana, and liquors of all different alcohol percentages,
Across the walk flow shouts of the night’s plans and the day’s jokes from window to window,
Across the walk march students, professors, janitors, public citizens, incoming freshmen, gym employees as well as goers,
Across the walk fly conversation waves transmitted from the laptops adorned by the network of Facebook,
Across the walk are Toby Plate Drop Off Spots with bins overstuffed flowing and stained with the grease of the incredible delicassies from Café Ventanas,
During the nighttime on the weekends kids huddle into small patches boldly conversing in the open air with special plastic red recyclable cups,
During the morning there will be a mystical air of silence invading the walk as individuals go about the start of their day and others finally head to bed,
During the afternoon discussion sections in Asante dismiss and flood the walk with complaint of the general ed known as MMW,
During the afternoon the janitors will eat on the benches laughing happily, the kids will talk with the janitors and the other kids, and those boys with the ball will be running around playing through the sunny stretch of day,
It really is a noteworthy place that really does deserve its fame,
It is a place with a fast growing tree planted by Jane Goodall and overhangs willingly rented by our Authority,
It is where great friendships have been made, legendary stories have occurred, hearts have been broken, and hundreds of cigarettes have been smoked,
It is a place where childhood themed parties carry into the morning and are well documented by many digital cameras, happy RA’s, and RSO’s with birthdays,
International Walk lies between the buildings where young minds are allowed to travel the world,
International Walk is the runway for those nervous to study in the great abroad program of the great university system of California,
International Walk provides soap boxes for impassioned speech and a theater for willing ears,
International Walk will give you a hug or a kiss on the cheek or a hacky sack to the noggin,
Sit along I-Walk Sunday through Saturday and you will be happy you did.


-jared a muscat

ps thanks to anyone who came to SLAM tonight, it was my first reading ever so i hope i did alright, hopefully i will be accepted to some other ones...got a lot more of the book done and quite a few new poems that should be coming up sooner or later

Random Order

The mind of a man,
When scattered about,
Will leave his actions aloft.
From the collage,
Can be found an order of creativity.
But, in reality, what is order?
(it could mean there is no disorder).
But why is it better than random?

At a moment,
There can be great wonder,
Flung into the air.
And immediately thereafter,
A heavy comforter may be cast upon the mind,
Forever smothering that moment of splendor.
(blankets are tricky things)
BUT!

Why say good bye?
There most certainly will be another encounter,
For in a world of such little structure,
There will most certainly be another run in.
Brilliance is too bright to be completely dwindled.
How strong it will make the mind feel,
The images energizing!
The empowering motion of memory!

Labels could most certainly pursue.
Names both false and verified,
The purpose will ring loud as church bells.
The rhythm, well, that is to be decided on the spot.
The message, delivered with open ends!
For a moment of brilliance confined to a package,
Is no better than the comforter,
Keeping the mind in bed.

-jared a muscat

a failure of a writer

ok well...i havent written a completed poem in over a week...i will be straight up honest, i got stuck writing a book/still am writing the book...i have some almost completed poems i might post soon, but i havent been able to tear myself away from my story long enough to translate them from paper to computer and even if i could my hands are so tired from typing that i would refuse to...i am going to submit a few poems for publication that havent been posted for that reason...so maybe someone will think i have some sort of skill and decide to publish them, that way you can see them...otherwise just stay tuned and someday a friend will bring a camera and there will be some decent sketches on this blog as well as some decent poems and maybe a short story or two...who knows really?

cheers