Wednesday, December 9, 2009
5 poems
KYLE
Freemasonry
Not a secret society,
A society with secrets,
Speaking to the public indirectly,
Symbols aptly representing morals
Bettering men and preventing quarrels,
A deistic culture preventing religious fracture
Unlocking man’s true potential
By changing the function within your mental
A nation built from their ideas and beliefs
Fighting ignorance, fanaticism and tyranny
Infinitely diminishing fear from me
FIRST TRACKS
To my left and right was barren hill
clad in a thick and fluffy blanket of white.
The luminescent, joy bringing, gift from the sky
sitting peacefully atop the needles that dressed the strong branches.
The condensation that lay below my feet and all around me
glistening and sparkling
with the reflection of the radiant sun.
An open field lay below me
Excluding trees and rocks.
Few knew about this place
I was the first to be there
Alone,
the early start of sunrise,
as the sun still glistened in a vibrant array of oranges, yellows and reds.
I stood there
at first admiring the majesty of it all
that would soon be destroyed with two skinny tracks zig-zagging down
leaving it all behind.
I had the path I would take.
I had first tracks.
KYLE
Different colors
Different metaphorical meanings
Representing feelings
Red for anger
Blue for sorrow
But the meaning could change
In the hours till tomorrow
Black for darkness
White for light
Green for life
But look at a billboard
It might change your mind
Perception can’t be defined
But it can’t be denied
Your brain could have lied
Your apathy towards colors might reside
But there is no need to decide
The reason in your mind might die
But it is on for you to try
KYLE
Stories
Of dreams and lively wonder to discover
Love felt but not seen
Faith, dangerous negative emotions
Crazy games of life will change
But now what is next?
Check out the sexy super beach
Playing with a bad wet girl
Feel long quick boost growing
BOOM…
Milk
hehehehehe
Kyle
My greatest fear was losing him
My fear was facing him
A terrified son
who lost the biggest form of support
Helping me get back in line when I steer off blindly
But now I would find my own path
The bitter realization initiated a frigid chill that ran down my spine
My apathy showed that I was fragile but at the same time strong enough to get through it
Grasping the morals and values left by this battle
I think I am not proud to admit my own father is a screw up
I want to say he is dead sometimes
Then I am free from the humiliation of his story
I have tried to prove myself better than my predecessor
I have dealt with responsibilities and I am prepared to handle more
I don’t know if I would ever talk to him again
He created trauma but initiated a better person unknowingly
I have been graced with a town of people who care
Friends who will do anything
And an angel of a mother
Writing this is not easy
It is not a story I tell to anyone
But when the day comes that I have to face my father
I will be prepared
Freemasonry
Not a secret society,
A society with secrets,
Speaking to the public indirectly,
Symbols aptly representing morals
Bettering men and preventing quarrels,
A deistic culture preventing religious fracture
Unlocking man’s true potential
By changing the function within your mental
A nation built from their ideas and beliefs
Fighting ignorance, fanaticism and tyranny
Infinitely diminishing fear from me
FIRST TRACKS
To my left and right was barren hill
clad in a thick and fluffy blanket of white.
The luminescent, joy bringing, gift from the sky
sitting peacefully atop the needles that dressed the strong branches.
The condensation that lay below my feet and all around me
glistening and sparkling
with the reflection of the radiant sun.
An open field lay below me
Excluding trees and rocks.
Few knew about this place
I was the first to be there
Alone,
the early start of sunrise,
as the sun still glistened in a vibrant array of oranges, yellows and reds.
I stood there
at first admiring the majesty of it all
that would soon be destroyed with two skinny tracks zig-zagging down
leaving it all behind.
I had the path I would take.
I had first tracks.
KYLE
Different colors
Different metaphorical meanings
Representing feelings
Red for anger
Blue for sorrow
But the meaning could change
In the hours till tomorrow
Black for darkness
White for light
Green for life
But look at a billboard
It might change your mind
Perception can’t be defined
But it can’t be denied
Your brain could have lied
Your apathy towards colors might reside
But there is no need to decide
The reason in your mind might die
But it is on for you to try
KYLE
Stories
Of dreams and lively wonder to discover
Love felt but not seen
Faith, dangerous negative emotions
Crazy games of life will change
But now what is next?
Check out the sexy super beach
Playing with a bad wet girl
Feel long quick boost growing
BOOM…
Milk
hehehehehe
Kyle
My greatest fear was losing him
My fear was facing him
A terrified son
who lost the biggest form of support
Helping me get back in line when I steer off blindly
But now I would find my own path
The bitter realization initiated a frigid chill that ran down my spine
My apathy showed that I was fragile but at the same time strong enough to get through it
Grasping the morals and values left by this battle
I think I am not proud to admit my own father is a screw up
I want to say he is dead sometimes
Then I am free from the humiliation of his story
I have tried to prove myself better than my predecessor
I have dealt with responsibilities and I am prepared to handle more
I don’t know if I would ever talk to him again
He created trauma but initiated a better person unknowingly
I have been graced with a town of people who care
Friends who will do anything
And an angel of a mother
Writing this is not easy
It is not a story I tell to anyone
But when the day comes that I have to face my father
I will be prepared
Kids book
Once upon a time there was a family of prairie dogs named Jimmy, Timmy, Tammy and Tommy
They were all sleeping at home with their mommy
She sat in her hole alone and cold not once getting out of bead
They thought she was dead until she woke up and said,
“Children, I feel very ill”
They asked Uncle Bill why she had been ill,
He told them she has prairie flu
He told them “it’s common, just go ask the shaman. He will know what to do.”
Jimmy, Timmy, Tammy and Tommy squirmed through holes like fast little moles to seek out the shaman for help
They dashed through the prairie where they soon met Larry
Larry was weary, afraid of the dangers, the fast moving strangers
They flew down the track with a smack and a whack
As their friends lay flat like a pancake
Jimmy, Timmy, Tammy, and Tommy didn’t know if they could help their mommy
The strangers zipped past going terribly fast not noticing the family of four
Jimmy and Timmy and Tammy and Tommy had a wonderful plan
They assembled a clan of Stan, Dan and Anne and then they began
To dig and dig and dig
They dug a tunnel that went under the black hard ground
And without a sound they found that they were at the other side
They eyed the other side then looked around
They saw a couple holes that ran in the ground
Inside the ground without a sound they found,
A little wrinkled grey rabbit
Who had a habit of forgetting
Jimmy Timmy Tammy and Tommy asked the rabbit if he could help their mommy
He looked around with confusion and fright and not very polite said,
“get her out of bed and give her some bread”
This old rabbit is crazy they all thought to themselves, he’s been in this hole too long
And the rabbit burst in song dancing in place before he soon asked “who are you and why are you in my space?”
Jimmy Timmy Tammy and Tommy left the hole to go help their mommy
When they looked outside to all of their fright
They saw that their hole collapsed and their neighbors were stuck on sites
Piled metal and people screaming into the night
Jimmy Timmy Tammy and Tommy all ran across the road to their mommy
Glass, metal, and strangers around made the children aware of the danger around.
Jimmy ran in to a broken machine and stole a roll
They scurried across and ran to their hole
Where they ran down and dug like moles
Jimmy Timmy Tammy and Tommy finally ran home to greet their mommy
They brought her outside and gave her some bread and the strangers were looking at this funny sight
They stared at each other with wonder and fright and this went on throughout the whole night
Jimmy and Timmy and Tammy and Tommy including their mommy ran inside with all of their might.
So Jimmy and Timmy and Tammy and Tommy went to bed at home with their mommy.
They were all sleeping at home with their mommy
She sat in her hole alone and cold not once getting out of bead
They thought she was dead until she woke up and said,
“Children, I feel very ill”
They asked Uncle Bill why she had been ill,
He told them she has prairie flu
He told them “it’s common, just go ask the shaman. He will know what to do.”
Jimmy, Timmy, Tammy and Tommy squirmed through holes like fast little moles to seek out the shaman for help
They dashed through the prairie where they soon met Larry
Larry was weary, afraid of the dangers, the fast moving strangers
They flew down the track with a smack and a whack
As their friends lay flat like a pancake
Jimmy, Timmy, Tammy, and Tommy didn’t know if they could help their mommy
The strangers zipped past going terribly fast not noticing the family of four
Jimmy and Timmy and Tammy and Tommy had a wonderful plan
They assembled a clan of Stan, Dan and Anne and then they began
To dig and dig and dig
They dug a tunnel that went under the black hard ground
And without a sound they found that they were at the other side
They eyed the other side then looked around
They saw a couple holes that ran in the ground
Inside the ground without a sound they found,
A little wrinkled grey rabbit
Who had a habit of forgetting
Jimmy Timmy Tammy and Tommy asked the rabbit if he could help their mommy
He looked around with confusion and fright and not very polite said,
“get her out of bed and give her some bread”
This old rabbit is crazy they all thought to themselves, he’s been in this hole too long
And the rabbit burst in song dancing in place before he soon asked “who are you and why are you in my space?”
Jimmy Timmy Tammy and Tommy left the hole to go help their mommy
When they looked outside to all of their fright
They saw that their hole collapsed and their neighbors were stuck on sites
Piled metal and people screaming into the night
Jimmy Timmy Tammy and Tommy all ran across the road to their mommy
Glass, metal, and strangers around made the children aware of the danger around.
Jimmy ran in to a broken machine and stole a roll
They scurried across and ran to their hole
Where they ran down and dug like moles
Jimmy Timmy Tammy and Tommy finally ran home to greet their mommy
They brought her outside and gave her some bread and the strangers were looking at this funny sight
They stared at each other with wonder and fright and this went on throughout the whole night
Jimmy and Timmy and Tammy and Tommy including their mommy ran inside with all of their might.
So Jimmy and Timmy and Tammy and Tommy went to bed at home with their mommy.
my memoir
Kyle Northrup
Creative Writing
As my father was slowly escorted into the black and white vehicle I tried to grasp what was happening. Maybe it could have been my age, but I simply could not understand what had happened. I had always looked up to my father, so I never questioned his actions. I never questioned why my mother was crying because I was being punished.
My greatest fear was for the longest time that I would never see him again. But as I became older my fear changed, I am now apprehensive to face him again. Every night I fret over what I would say to him, if I even wanted to talk to him, what he would be like etc… But I know to this day that he is thinking the same thing.
When I was six, I received mail. In the white envelope was a letter so eloquent that it took at least a year to write and revise. Being only six I didn’t notice this, but I knew that my dad was different. The amount of pain, sorrow and bitter remorse in his words could deeply effect even a six year old. I imagined my dad sitting in his jail block with a plethora of crumpled up papers scattered on the ground while he is in a cold metal crying. My dad, the six five body building giant, gently sobbing while writing this letter.
It is a terrifying world for a little kid who grows up without the support of a real father. When you look at the stands and among the roaring crowd of over-anxious family members screaming at the top of their lungs, and not seeing one dedicated solely for rooting at their own blood. Reminiscing on times that you want to remember, not the times that have made people who they are. Going to the park and playing pass never seemed to be the one thing in life I would hang on to, but looking back I realized that those times would stick with me the rest of my life.
One day I looked around my video collection and stumbled upon a video. Without a name or label, the mysterious tape eluded me. I popped it in the VCR and stared at the T.V. with amazement. My mother and father stood there together, smiling and cheering as I paraded around in my little electric dump truck that I got for my third birthday. I drove it around without regard to what was around me. Running into walls and driving off curbs. But my dad was always there to pick me up and put me back in line the way I needed to go. I only wish that he could have done that in my life. Help me get back in line when I steer off blindly, instead of me having to find my own path.
I put the tape back into its sleeve and carry on. I head up to my sisters old room to sit on her cold bed. She is off to college, leaving my mom and I to fret on our own. The bitter realization of this creates a frigid chill that runs down my spine.
But I had some hope. In times that this loneliness hits me, I know I have my uncles. Uncle Jack and Lawnie are my father’s younger brothers who live in Oletha. They are wonderful people who would do anything to see our family be happy. During a visit to the dusty corn field town, I met with my big bellied Uncle Jack. He knew instantly what I was feeling. He put his giant hand on my shoulder and talked to me about it. We talked about my dad and my family and how I was handling it. Even his younger brother knew that something was mentally unstable and unfamiliar with his sibling. But what he didn’t know was why. He knew my dad loves me with all of his heart, but nothing could explain his malicious actions. I have never seen a man as big in my life well up with tears, but this event was deep enough to make a well strung, calm and god like man to give in to the emotion felt within.
My other uncle, Lawnie was always the type of man to crack the most wonderful jokes to enlighten your soul, and for a long time I was not allowed to see him because he still talked to my dad. But this commotion was too powerful to be disintegrated by a nice sarcastic joke. This was as well his brother and he too knew something was wrong with him. Lawnie had tried many times to get his brother to see the light and try to fix some of the mistakes in his life, but his attempts were in vein. Lawnie once again told me that he loved me with all of his heart, hoping to heal some of the scars left by his own family. I could see by loosing a father I had gained two more benevolent ones that lived only a couple miles away.
I went back home, passing corn fields and looking the whole time out the window. I didn’t notice anything I had been looking at. I would stare at the river next to us and never realize its beauty, only looking at it without any sentiment or demeanor. My apathy showed that I was fragile but at the same strong enough to get passed everything and grasping the morals and values left by this battle.
What confuses me about my own self, is that I never share this history or any knowledge of this with my friends. It might seem like I am blocking them out of my personal matters, but I think I am not proud to admit my father is a screw-up. I want to just say that he died sometimes because I do not want to deal with the humiliation of saying that he went to jail and now has a restraining order against him. In someway I think people will think I am going to head down the same road. I have tried to prove myself better than my predecessor and become a near perfect person by not committing the same vulgar acts as he once did and is currently doing. I have dealt with responsibilities and I am ready to be handed new ones every day of my life. Maybe someone will see that I have the ability to overcome multiple obstacles and relate to it in some way.
I still do not have a clue if I would ever speak to my father, and what I would say if I could. It is a daunting realization to know that when I turn 18 that I will most definitely be contacted by the man that has caused so many traumas but yet made me a stronger person. Somewhere within the hallowed shell of this horrid person is the man I once loved. Whatever makes me choose to talk to him or not is not controlled by me, fate will decide. The one who still shows he loves me back and wants to make things right. Or maybe that is just me being optimistic.
Although I have lacked the male connection with my mom, I have been graced with an entire town of people who care, friends who will do anything for you, and an angel of a mother to lookout for me. Some things have been given to our family due to the events that had happened, but a plethora of them have been earned by my mom, my sister, and me. Writing this now is not easy, but it is a way to tell my story that has been bottled up inside for so long. And I do not tell this story to hardly anyone so it is not easy. I also want to thank every person who helped me through this, friends, family, teachers, even people I don’t even know, they have all paved the way of my life, Given me hope, and good morals. But I know deep in my heart that one day I will have to face my father, and when that day comes I will be prepared.
Creative Writing
As my father was slowly escorted into the black and white vehicle I tried to grasp what was happening. Maybe it could have been my age, but I simply could not understand what had happened. I had always looked up to my father, so I never questioned his actions. I never questioned why my mother was crying because I was being punished.
My greatest fear was for the longest time that I would never see him again. But as I became older my fear changed, I am now apprehensive to face him again. Every night I fret over what I would say to him, if I even wanted to talk to him, what he would be like etc… But I know to this day that he is thinking the same thing.
When I was six, I received mail. In the white envelope was a letter so eloquent that it took at least a year to write and revise. Being only six I didn’t notice this, but I knew that my dad was different. The amount of pain, sorrow and bitter remorse in his words could deeply effect even a six year old. I imagined my dad sitting in his jail block with a plethora of crumpled up papers scattered on the ground while he is in a cold metal crying. My dad, the six five body building giant, gently sobbing while writing this letter.
It is a terrifying world for a little kid who grows up without the support of a real father. When you look at the stands and among the roaring crowd of over-anxious family members screaming at the top of their lungs, and not seeing one dedicated solely for rooting at their own blood. Reminiscing on times that you want to remember, not the times that have made people who they are. Going to the park and playing pass never seemed to be the one thing in life I would hang on to, but looking back I realized that those times would stick with me the rest of my life.
One day I looked around my video collection and stumbled upon a video. Without a name or label, the mysterious tape eluded me. I popped it in the VCR and stared at the T.V. with amazement. My mother and father stood there together, smiling and cheering as I paraded around in my little electric dump truck that I got for my third birthday. I drove it around without regard to what was around me. Running into walls and driving off curbs. But my dad was always there to pick me up and put me back in line the way I needed to go. I only wish that he could have done that in my life. Help me get back in line when I steer off blindly, instead of me having to find my own path.
I put the tape back into its sleeve and carry on. I head up to my sisters old room to sit on her cold bed. She is off to college, leaving my mom and I to fret on our own. The bitter realization of this creates a frigid chill that runs down my spine.
But I had some hope. In times that this loneliness hits me, I know I have my uncles. Uncle Jack and Lawnie are my father’s younger brothers who live in Oletha. They are wonderful people who would do anything to see our family be happy. During a visit to the dusty corn field town, I met with my big bellied Uncle Jack. He knew instantly what I was feeling. He put his giant hand on my shoulder and talked to me about it. We talked about my dad and my family and how I was handling it. Even his younger brother knew that something was mentally unstable and unfamiliar with his sibling. But what he didn’t know was why. He knew my dad loves me with all of his heart, but nothing could explain his malicious actions. I have never seen a man as big in my life well up with tears, but this event was deep enough to make a well strung, calm and god like man to give in to the emotion felt within.
My other uncle, Lawnie was always the type of man to crack the most wonderful jokes to enlighten your soul, and for a long time I was not allowed to see him because he still talked to my dad. But this commotion was too powerful to be disintegrated by a nice sarcastic joke. This was as well his brother and he too knew something was wrong with him. Lawnie had tried many times to get his brother to see the light and try to fix some of the mistakes in his life, but his attempts were in vein. Lawnie once again told me that he loved me with all of his heart, hoping to heal some of the scars left by his own family. I could see by loosing a father I had gained two more benevolent ones that lived only a couple miles away.
I went back home, passing corn fields and looking the whole time out the window. I didn’t notice anything I had been looking at. I would stare at the river next to us and never realize its beauty, only looking at it without any sentiment or demeanor. My apathy showed that I was fragile but at the same strong enough to get passed everything and grasping the morals and values left by this battle.
What confuses me about my own self, is that I never share this history or any knowledge of this with my friends. It might seem like I am blocking them out of my personal matters, but I think I am not proud to admit my father is a screw-up. I want to just say that he died sometimes because I do not want to deal with the humiliation of saying that he went to jail and now has a restraining order against him. In someway I think people will think I am going to head down the same road. I have tried to prove myself better than my predecessor and become a near perfect person by not committing the same vulgar acts as he once did and is currently doing. I have dealt with responsibilities and I am ready to be handed new ones every day of my life. Maybe someone will see that I have the ability to overcome multiple obstacles and relate to it in some way.
I still do not have a clue if I would ever speak to my father, and what I would say if I could. It is a daunting realization to know that when I turn 18 that I will most definitely be contacted by the man that has caused so many traumas but yet made me a stronger person. Somewhere within the hallowed shell of this horrid person is the man I once loved. Whatever makes me choose to talk to him or not is not controlled by me, fate will decide. The one who still shows he loves me back and wants to make things right. Or maybe that is just me being optimistic.
Although I have lacked the male connection with my mom, I have been graced with an entire town of people who care, friends who will do anything for you, and an angel of a mother to lookout for me. Some things have been given to our family due to the events that had happened, but a plethora of them have been earned by my mom, my sister, and me. Writing this now is not easy, but it is a way to tell my story that has been bottled up inside for so long. And I do not tell this story to hardly anyone so it is not easy. I also want to thank every person who helped me through this, friends, family, teachers, even people I don’t even know, they have all paved the way of my life, Given me hope, and good morals. But I know deep in my heart that one day I will have to face my father, and when that day comes I will be prepared.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
