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Showing posts from 2016

A Sleeping Beast

Peacefully they sleep in a city of gold among the stars of their own conception

In the cold waters of the bay, a still surface glimmers the hopes of those it reflects

The beast waits, deep within the coves of a watery grave dug eons ago, so they thought

In ignorant bliss the city-folk walk upon the bridges over the lake, all the while their reflections dance to a different tune

A terrible scream of drowning rips through utopia and into the hearts of the masses-- fallen upon deaf ears they still don't know

The Devil's paladins march down the sewers and gamble away in games of deceit and betrayal

As below, so above in shadows, never daring to break the bliss they enjoy in passing

The Devil waits, knowing his time will come when the sleeping beast awakens and leaves the grave

A thousand golden apples, a silver tree, platinum leaves

The water rises, the sewers flood, the apples fall

Men eat their fruit

The reflections come to life, the shadows lift, the city darkens

A terrible scream of drown…

On the Origin of War

If one reads the newspaper or watches the news what would they see or hear? Without a doubt, they would probably see something about a war. If one goes to a library what will they find? Hundreds of books on the various wars throughout history. A quick Google search on the term “War” brings up two billion and eighty million search results. I would argue that war is among one of the most talked about subjects in the existence of our species.
Human conflict, in one way or another, has been a staple of our history since the dawn of our creation. Talk to any historical scholar or cultural anthropologist and they’ll unanimously agree that peace on earth is a rare occurrence. In “The Lessons of History,” historians Will and Ariel Durant claimed that if you define war as an active conflict that has claimed more than 1000 lives then, “of the past 3,421 years, humans have been entirely at peace for 268 of them, or just 8 percent of recorded history.” This projection doesn’t even account for sma…


Calls of righteous pride scream out into a heated expanse.
Fire and water crash into thunder. A steam that seems only to rise.
Newly-opened eyes look around and see nothing but anger.
Division --The Great Vice-- threatens to tear what decades have let thrive.
And a battle of words not weapons. Fought over radio waves and power lines made of industry from decades past. An industry that seems forgotten.
A collective spirit struck. A long-lived harmony conflicted. And Us.
Between two symbols the crusade was fought, ripping apart frayed threads and trembling fabric. A blanket in tatters.
Divided selves, divided families, and divided communities. A divided land.
A frayed quilt-- the entirety of everything that was and is this land. Bloodshed and brotherhood. Science and progress. Unity and freedom. Onward determination and backbone.
Now the patches of generations and ideologies are loose, pulled at by the winds of our devise. And yet we continue cutting, hoping to make a distinction from …

Wandering Man

Down the twisted roads of a forgot highway you may find a wandering man.
His calloused feet, dirty hands, and tired legs.

The places he's past are innumerable, and if you ask him, he'll remember everyone.

The old coal town with no mine. The city with towering glass but no sky. The farming town with no water.

He's looking for a place to rest, but he's never found one because on this highway you can't rest.

Only go forward.

He's seen libraries with no books and farmer markets with no food. 

And everywhere he goes he does good. Making the towns a little better than when he arrived.

Cause he doesn't know where he's going or what he wants, and he may never, but he'll keep on walking cause he's sure he'll find out when he gets there.

In the distance a gunshot rings. And the man walks on blades of grass like blades of knives even when it stings.

But he never stops.

Some say he's lost. But how can you be lost when you've got nowhere to be? 

Some say he …

Making Someone’s Worst Day ‘a little less worse’

It was late at night when I found myself riding in the back of an ambulance on the way to the hospital. I didn’t need medical attention, but the silent 1-year-old infant on the gurney did.

The child had been having a seizure for almost 20 minutes. All I could think about was the worried look on the mother’s face as a team of firefighters and EMTs huddled around her baby and the panicked voice of the baby’s older sister as she told her mother that she was scared.

The ambulance rocked up and down as it sped down the road in West Valley. Mack Holt, a 22-year-old paramedic, was busy preparing a syringe with a small dose of medicine. He carefully administered the dose to the child. It took only a few seconds before the infant started to cry for the first time since we had arrived. The seizures had stopped.

“A crying baby is a good baby in this profession,” Mack said with a smile.

This is the type of daily routine for thousands of emergency medical technicians (EMTs) and other emergency medical…

A Tower Fallen

There's a tower.

The people around it marvel and push it on, telling it to reach higher.

So it reaches further into the heavens, trying to match the expectations it's been given.

But it's weak. The foundation rattles and the walls start to sway by hairs.

But it persists. It builds higher, taking on new tenets and diversions, because the worse thing it can do is let down the people below.

And it shakes. The internal stress causes internal confliction. Internal fractures and broken support. But no-one is the wiser.

The tower holds on, rising higher. They can't know, lest it be abandoned and condemned.

But the weight above compiles, the foundation starts to give. Things slip by, steal cracks-- yet no-one, somehow, seems to be the wiser.

The tower builds higher. It breaks so closely to the heavens.

Then it falls.

Everything that it's worked so hard to build tumbles to the world below in a torrent of angst, self doubt, and failure.

What is the tower to do when those th…

Sander's Rally Eye-Opening Experience

A few months ago it donned on me that this will be the first presidential election that I'll be able to vote in. Because of this, I've been paying more attention to politics now than ever before.

I've watched the Republican and Democratic debates, listened to what the candidates have said and have formed my opinions.

There are fewer ways for a voter to be more involved in presidential race, than by attending a presidential candidates' rally. So when I first found out that Bernie Sanders was coming to Yakima Thursday, March 24th, I knew I couldn't miss it.

It's not every day that a presidential candidate with a serious chance of getting their party's nomination comes through the Yakima Valley. Because of this I wanted to get everything I could out of the experience.

I knew getting a press pass was the best way to go. So I put in my RSVP, crossed my fingers, and waited. Long story short: I found myself waiting in the media line with thirty other journalists be…