Remnants

You hang,
     empty and brittle.
My sugar maple,
     your last stand.
Slit on your back,
    your creator's escape.
Now you hang,
     hollow and dry,
waiting for wind,
     to take your final flight.
Your presence, your husk,
     marks summer's end.

Emote

Calloused tips stretch,
               push lines of steel.
Pulling pitch,
               sculpting sound.
Melody drips rich
                salted notes.
leaving a trail
                of incorporeal inspiration.






                

Torn

Torn

Waiting alone—a shredded nest,

            Crimson streaks on black vest.

Only broken shells remain,

            Protectors of life’s domain.

Was it wind or beast?

            An accidental tryst?

Blood feathers scattered,

            Torn from their scabbard.

Remnants of an unseen feud,

            Shards of a dismantled brood.

Mourn for the fledgling,

            Victim of feline fowling.

Gentle songs fill the trees,

            Drifting softly on the breeze.

Life, death on a single breath.

Stretching for flight—suffused with evening light.

Grass Stains

For the moment free.

Sunlight scattered through leaves.

Blonde waves tease the flowers,

She leans to push higher.

She sees through tight eyes.

Innocent, free she flies.

Grass stained feet push,

Moist earth, a familiar touch.

Lost, but not afraid,

Anything fearful fades.

Gravity the only foe,

Defeated by dirty toes.

Bourne

Systematic fluidity.

He leaves his mark on the screen.

Absolute abstraction.

Coding without seams.

A creative conformity,

Of a construct well-conceived.

Unraveled encryption,

Fulfilling a need.

Masterful configuration,

Prodigy with a keyboard.

A Binary linguist,

Each line in accord.

Singular functioning language,

A multi-user platform.

Debugging processes,

Working to reform.

A life-long passion for data,

Pallet of Unix commands.

Developing a world,

He understands.

Code compiled and now complete,

Relief of creative need.

Finished at the moment,

Work needed to Breathe.

Digital Education

Twelve years, it had been twelve years since I had stepped into a classroom.  My sophomore year of school seemed so distant and fuzzy. The school has grown, the parking lot expanded, and the amount of students enrolled has tripled since I’ve been gone.  Laptops and cell phones are now the norm and they occupy every ear and every table.  People now huddle in groups around the few outlets in the commons; they are an oasis of power for the machines we seem to be attached to.

Social websites thread a bit of irony into the room.  Groups of students forcing themselves to be social but at the same time the topic of discussion is the social networking sites they hold so dear. It’s a feedback loop of social reclusiveness.  

Paper and pen have been replaced with binary code deciphered by our computer screens.  Texting has left an aftermath of misspellings and slang in its wake.  Grammar has taken a back seat.

Younger students expect information to be instant in the classroom; seeking the fastest information instead of information rich with understanding. They seek spoon-fed information that is able to be regurgitated onto standardized tests; an expectation left over from standardized high school curriculum.  Professors are accommodating and tailor their lecture with Power Point presentations, emails, and steep grading curves.  I’ve even heard the word ‘client’ used in reference to a student. 

Things have changed.  Some have gone too far. Political correctness seems to be the underlying theme. Education is formatted and rigid instead of fluid and moldable. 

There are some changes that have become excellent tools for research and learning. When used properly, the advantage is astonishing. The ability to have a library beneath your fingers and have an open communication with professors is a priceless resource.  Books are being replaced with digital formats and intricate study guides.  Flashcards can be sent to your smartphone faster than you can retrieve note cards and practice tests are available from the publishing companies.

Unfortunately college has become a learning factory geared towards testing and scores. There are still some professors who harbor the true idea of learning.  They understand that learning is a social act and human interaction is needed and desired. Knowledge streams better from a peer than from a wi-fi connection .

Moments

We base our life on moments, pivot points of existence. Our minds let certain memories prevail to remind us of who we are. Some of us are able to capture those brief experiences and share them with vividness.  Driven to share our moments, we find the tools we can manipulate well enough to give them a pulse. We share our moments because we must, because they burn in our veins and plague our thoughts. The snap of a shutter that allows light to bathe the waiting film, the brush that releases its hue, a stone exposing a form, rhythm transforming the air, and language detailing the world with beauty—these are our mediums.

Searching for a voice that will echo far beyond our own existence, we long for a sense of immortality. Our life inevitably fades, so we expose our experiences, our moments.  We scream into the future so our life will be remembered. The medium we choose acts as a beacon so humanity will know we were here, that we mattered. We contort the physical to express the spiritual.

Architects transform the skyline. They move mountains to be remembered.  Scientists explore the unknown to make sense of who they are. Athletes shape their bodies to be remembered for their perfection.  All of us look for a moment that glistens divinely and hope to capture it. We hope to capture it in a unique way that connects all of humanity by setting us apart from it.

Mortality is a moment that we are chained to; however we shouldn’t mourn for our unavoidable demise. We should find our brushes, our hammer and chisels, to capture our unique view.

***Find the language of your immortality and proclaim it to the universe.***