Poems from ComposedDiscomposure

When I think about the world with my tendency to be inspired, I see not merely the trees, but their roots; I see not merely the people, but I ask who. I’m young and lost among a sea of emotions which I can hardly understand, and yet I am asked to write what they mean to me. Can I describe the thoughts registered by allowing an ill raccoon to fall asleep upon my lap? Can I put to words the palliative moment formed by brushing a mule deer to soft music, calming him in a storm? Can I express the helplessness I feel knowing I can do nothing to ameliorate my sister’s depression but merely watch as she inflicts her wrist with another blade? How can I inform another of the personal resentment I feel when I look within my own full refrigerator with the knowledge that millions have nothing? Words are my hero, the only possible method of conveying my mind’s ever-aloof awakening to others, and yet when the words matter most of all, they falter; ideas and emotions overcome the logicality necessary for coherence. Thus, to write the narrative of my life when the plot is unfinished is a difficult task indeed. I cannot describe the category of person I am, because I strive to live without categories. Rather, I am a conglomeration of small inconsequential experiences, awe-inspiring moments, and intellectual aspirations which have molded the person I am today, and will continue to mold my future. Why is it that even with this vast supply of inspiration, my journey to self-discovery exists only in rhyme? I’ve lived within my mind for 17 years, and yet the only coherent self-expressions I have are in verse. Thus, in order to understand, one must see the only way in which I can understand myself. I wish I could describe less furtively the person I am, but I look to actions and ideas rather than proclamations of supposed intelligence and superiority. The narrative of my life is incomplete, the plot un-deciphered, but I believe that this will be the theme: I am alive and I strive to learn what that means each day. I vow to plunge into every opportunity which approaches my ever-curious heart. I commit myself to coloring outside the lines, to living by the words of my favorite clearance-rack T-shirt “Be dynamic. Be a revolutionary.”
Complacency  will be the death of me, Admonished by life's many things. As I regain my fallen feet this fallen world has timed my beat-...