A Surfing Summer Sunset

What magnificently metallic golden aqua silk screen.
Incredible ripples,
glittering mirrors.
Here and there batches of soothing,
tumbling energetic cotton,
clouds above, spotty,
holy.
Glances of an orange circle of life.
Tracking of Apollo’s accomplishment.
A pulse,
from many leagues South
rises, hesitantly
lumping into
a form fit to bop.
1,
2,
3,
4, 1, 2, 3, 4.
Strokes, carefree mind looking elsewhere,
thinking here,
left foot first,
“getting
back
where it all begun.”
Ahhhh…mother nature.

-jared a muscat

blackberries and clouds prep doodle

jimi prep doodle

help (part of)

this is an excerpt from a poem titled "help" it is a super long poem so here is part of it (if you care, probably dont)

I hurried over to the academic advisors just the other day, the ones who are there to help plan my career,
They know what I need to set me on the right path, the trades at which I will succeed, with their help I can go places,
They have done this routine before, it is how they became such wise advisors, it is why they know what I need,
They work in an office of pleasant comfort, it is cleaned nightly, and when a student enters it is an inviting place,
They trained, studied, talked about, thought about, mapped out how to do their jobs they made certain they had it all figured out,
They are good at what they do, they have done it before, they have done it for themselves,
They have done it for the sluts, the jocks, the populars, the presidents, the hippies, the frats, the sororities,
They have done it for the nerds, the ugly, the good looking, the incredible looking, the closet dwellers, the well dressed,
They have done it for the gays, the Jews, the blacks, the Mexicans, the rich, the Native Americans, the Europeans,
They have done it for the insert your name here’s, Asians, the pot smokers, the coke snorters, the anorexics, the fat, the obese, the toned,
They can do it for anyone, they have done it for everyone, they will do it for whomever, they know how,
I walked in hoping to find a plan fit for me, when I entered I felt welcomed indeed, but they were not there, not to help me,
They had a good reason, they had very important matters with which to attend, there were changes being made and they needed to direct them,
They who know how best to sort us, they know the correct schedules of classes majors internships and job fairs,
They who live in comfortable houses earned by their experiences in college, in neighborhoods with all its gardens trimmed,
They who voted for the correct measures, who made the correct educated decision, who are model citizens,
They who drive cars fit for the time, or the cars that have nice flash, cars that can do much more than get them to and from their homes,
They who have created the model for the school, who wrote the sample essays that we should model, who decided what needs to be known,
They know more than what needs to be known, they have studied that and more, that is why they are here,
They know much more than us, and accordingly know the best way we should go about learning what we need,
They can tell us it is not through drugs or sex or drinking or activism or self expression or revolutionary thought,
They know because they didn’t do it that way, and if we did it that way we would be great failures,
We would be those who are slumped up against moss covered brick buildings, we would be those who clean their offices,
We would not know what is needed to be a good citizen, the facts that provide us with what we need to know,
We would not read the news, we would do even worse things than the generations before, we have a big burden they tell us,
We cannot let ourselves be swayed, we must stay straight, not all of us can let ourselves expose ourselves as gay,
We need to reproduce the next generation that will be the true saviors, we need to breed the minds they have bred,
We who have conformed rebelled invented and run away, we who have done so much yet done so little,
We who do not know the true meaning of life, who are forgetting the religions, we who have become so lazy in our ways,
We who do not go to church or temple, we who do go to church or temple, we who don’t believe in anything at all,
We who believe in nature, we who believe in Allah, we who believe in civil disobedience, we who believe in terrorism,
We who spend too much time on the technology they made, we who spend too little time on the technology they made,
We who aren’t willing to earn money, we who are too greedy, we who are spoiled and don’t need to make money,
We that no longer dedicate ourselves to the military, that no longer vote read or appreciate classic music,
We have forgotten proper manners, we have become too good at cheating, we are starting to understand the system,

-jared a muscat

Chemistry

Chemistry,
Thank you for what you have done.
The complex theories for basic classes,
The simple exceptions to the theories,
The two sided propaganda symbols.
Chemistry you are a good class.
You teach the TA’s,
You use a lot of chemicals and math,
You write tricky tests about already confusing material.
I owe you big time,
I am organic.
And it is because of you,
I am lazy with numbers,
Am bitter about facts that I’ll never use.
Chemistry you are America.
You use too much,
You need to be the best,
You have so much to be achieved,
You have achieved so much.
Chemistry I feel like you did more good than bad.
True one time you made me look like a blundering fool,
And you caused unnecessary stress,
As well as many wasted hours.
But it’s because of you so much has changed,
And I can’t even really see it,
I just know it.
The strenuous tests designed to fail,
The ill prepared professors,
The randomly appointed assistants.
It is a really beautiful fiasco.
You fight battles overseas,
You stay up late in secret guard,
You appoint brains to high positions.
The nation is not divided on you,
Nor am I.
Chemistry you were the worst best class I have taken at UCSD.
You really had it all.
Without literature you ignited soul searching,
Aided by ridiculous timing you dismantled sleeping patterns.
Chemistry come on,
What is this all about?
Why the medians?
The averages?
The fifty percents?
I read your book,
And it doesn’t make me think,
It doesn’t help me understand,
It makes it hurt more.
Is that how it is supposed to be?
Are the professors only researchers playing professors?
Are the TA’s relearning because it is that unimportant?
Did I not use anything from A in B because I didn’t need to?
Chemistry I think that all this is true.
Chemistry I don’t think you meant to but you changed me.
It wasn't the rules or eguations.
It might have been how you taught me what is needed to do science,
It might be that you overworked me,
It might be the lack of point and merit.
Chemistry I don’t mean to be harsh,
But you failed.
Not I,
I am back on top.

-jared a muscat

evan muscat, allen ginsberg, bruce springsteen

the decision to hack

The incredible moment of possible depth, diving into a plan of action leaving the conventional plains of Ohio,
Tossed into a free verse song as I roll along flowing polyurethane green with flying strands of symbolism,
I duck through a green, beige, mixed browns and orange spotted tunnel of revamped lyrical milky ways,
With loose hinges of gears, loose cloth of green flaps recreate the motion of a clock pushing the inertia forward,
Twists of the torso and lifts of the arms act as needle and thread weaving through the low concentrated solution of a crowd,
Now upon the massaging cobble stone pathway of bookshelved art foreseeing the dismount as I study a circle of physics’ bounces,
A rapid slideshow of the morning’s efficient rise that culminated with the number powered call for companion shutters through my eyes,
Kidney beans from childhood create squinting eyes of hazed enthusiasm laughingly translating a desire for sacramental communication,
Like the Beats of old gestures of brethren welcome the heating costume of now raw accomplished pride in decision,
Skips, hops, scoops, stalls, crosses, high tosses, and hustle bop about the center of academic integrity,
Perfectly hectic connections of joy magnet together, positive to positive, creating a strong force field of free restriction,
Graced by rainbows of a purple based ever transforming oval six pairs of feet dance artfully about the balls of creativity,
In a seemingly predicted link of chains time played endlessly on evaporating into a bank with insurance and full of history.

-jared a muscat

waiting room poems

i wrote some poems at the start of the quarter while waiting to get a cut on my hand sewn up...they were written in boredom and with touches of sarcasm, i kind of just think they are interesting pieces that really are only worthy of a fun read and maybe a little analysis, anywho...

waiting room 1

“Do you use recreational drugs?”
Yes, all of them.
It began with beer, but in short time it was gin
I didn’t care about what it was, as long as it made me grin,
It especially didn’t matter when people deemed it a sin.
It wasn’t long till I was over that stuff,
It played with my mind and made philosophy tough.
I wanted flowers and songs, floating high above.
I figured it would make everyone care only about love,
I guess I should have known,
That too much of anything forces you to loose touch.
So now we are sitting here,
Looking at a world leaning on a crutch.
They called it medicine to help people feel sane.
To me it looked like clear liquid that would never touch the brain.
All I knew was that it was another stupid part of the game.
I sit here hoping my fate is not the same.
How often does a man need to be told what to take?
The stuff they put me on is going to make me break.
It all feels like some giant restrain,
Each one of them pills is making me wait.
All I ask is, you let me take a shot,
And not from that gin you bought,
I would prefer to feel the clouds beneath my feet,
Let my breath run free,
Like a wind blowing through the trees.
All I really want to do is please.

waiting room 2

“It’s going to be awhile,” she said.
“I hope you can rest your head.”
I told her it was, I had no commitments in the mean time.
But what I was feeling, was that the longer I sat there, the more I would lose my mind.
The floor was like many I had seen.
The chairs and the nurses all just complemented the scene,
Some guy was sitting there without any bondage or disease.
I don’t know what he told the doctor, but to me he was merely weak in the knees.
Behind me I heard some conversation
“I am so disgusted to be a part of this nation!”
“Well we are pretty lucky, don’t you think?”
“Say what you want. But I just can’t stand this place! I need a drink.”
It seemed funny to me they didn’t want to know, why this guy in front of us was putting on a show.
He was ranting about why he was mad,
All I could figure was that somewhere inside he was sad.
To me there was nothing a doctor could give,
He was going to have to leave this wretched room, and just try and live.
Behind the desk I saw a different scene,
Everybody was content to play their part in this scheme,
They were smiling and laughing while just across the way, there was a group of ailments,
That ranged from nothing, to affairs that would last for days.
All they wanted to do was sleep.
An order that made everyone able to sleep.
They prided themselves on being the enchanted, and one of a kind.
That only made me question the idea of unique blindness,
Because to me that was what made them so proud and happy all the time.
How many times they had heard “thank you,”
I figured left them immune to making certain they received appreciation,
When it was their turn.
The mark they left on most was a burn.
Being a part of such a machine caused me to long for the day ahead,
When to me the machine could be dead.
When the soft rain would nourish the soil,
And the gentle touch of sunlight would be all that was necessary to settle any turmoil.
“Please come in,” I heard
And soon I was done waiting,
I was now moving along with the herd.

-jared a muscat

give peace a chance

bob marley doodle

original "chants" and "compassion found again"

Utopia Tease

So close,
So far.
Almost,
Not quite.
This will end at some point right?
At some point things will just fit into place?
Like the cinder blocks of the new housing buildings.
I just want to get there and settle down,
Find that right state of being.
The one where I don't have school,
Like the summers of junior high with great novels to be read.
That would be a wonderful little treat.
Just need to keep working that is all,
Putting together all the different little parts.
Soon it will be all systems go,
Like the Apollos of the space race.
So close,
Not so far.
Almost,
Soon enough.
Patience young one,
That is all.
Patience.

-jared a muscat