A Modest Proposal

In a desperate state of panic, desolation, and indigestion; a time comes. A time of pride. A certain calling towards mankind. A personal perspective must become routine, therefore separation is mandatory. We may obligate ourselves on the path of restrain and hiding, but we must demand a path of freedom and righteousness! So for the common wealth, the simple context of dignity itself; I, Ryan Harris, demand independence against one man and one man only! Mel Gibson.

The composer Mel Gibson has as he entitles his face with blue paint effects the world! This pathetic, unfortunate, undignified act makes me drop my head and cry.  "Are you ready for war?" No, no Mel Gibson; I am not ready for war, I have a wondrous idea. Why don't we paint our faces blue and chase English people screaming, as if we were fighting for Scotland's freedom or something. I've been forced to critique this filthy ignorant mirror image fool! The charming way you tear limbs and thrive gashing kidneys upon kidneys, how is it you manage to go back home, and eat the General's Chicken without even washing your hands? What is this, the 13th century? I raise my hand to you Mel, I rise my hand in a state of confusion. I raise my hand to count all the Lethal Weapon movies made one, two, three, or nine hundred seventy two? That beats Harry  Potter ; he may have a scar on his forehead, but at least he kept his head! "I don't make things difficult. That's the way they get, all by themselves." Ha no Martin Riggs you make them difficult on your own. To a fascinating point that makes you say; "Whoa, how did I manage that?"You didn't manage that! The green screen behind you did!

Men of God

The family and its warming spirit engulfed around the table. The spirit, the love, the heat. The sense in our hearts we feel today we pray to stay this way. The world out side is a different thing. Oh how it has changed. "Noah, I remember when I was a kid. Just like you. I would go to ball games with my pop. Oh those days. I remember the first time I threw a baseball, the first time I loved someone. My how I'd love to be a kid again. We'll step into the stadium to play our game, it comes and goes. The game ends at a time everyone knows it will. As if it were a movie. They said that years ago these games were played with out anticipation of when they'd end. Noah do you know how old I am?" The tables environment turns red, a red mist, a red wash. "Yeah grandpa, you're sixty." Darker it grows, it changes. "Well Noah I have to go, I might not be back for a while. But I promise you'll see me again." A string is broken, a string is burned. "Where are you going grandpa, wait, why is everyone crying, mom, dad?" Shear darkness. "Noah, I'm going to see new things. I'm going to be released." The door closes. "Mr. Richard, it's time for your release."

2010 Veterans Essay

Patriotism has changed, it's no longer routine. Patriotism is no longer about nations, ideologies, or ethnicity. It's a statement, by which an individual thrives upon to benefit himself. Or at least it is to me. It's safe to say patriotism isn't what it used to be. Unfortunately we must accept this, as today's priorities and method's are economy and business. Patriotism is still strong towards others' hearts; those who have fought or died for our noble country. Patriotism is a certain dignity that should be respected; but I believe many aren't dedicated to it, simply because the man or woman next to them isn't.
Patriotism lays root from the Elizabethan era; patriota "my countryman." In the 18th century religion in opposition to state, often contradicted with patriotism. For loyalty to the state indeed presented loyalty to the religion. Jean Jacques Rousseau a philosopher and composer was an essential contributor to patriotism. His philosophy's influenced the American and French revolutions.
"This Iraqi walks up to us and says, 'How can I help?' " Says Sergeant Bowers, who has served two tours in Iraq. Is patriotism dedication to one's country, or is it one's good will. The courage to say "How can I help?" the courage to do more in depth research the courage to share and the courage to do what's best for the person next to you. Releasing 400,000 of the government's classified files on the war in Afghanistan is in my opinion the most noble and courageous act of patriotism. A government has nothing to do with patriotism it has one thing and that is propaganda. Wiki leak's employees and contributors are sacrificing themselves to show America truth. Now its up to all citizens to ask what they can do to help.
 All governments aren't perfect. As a matter of fact they are far from that. A president, a king, or a democracy is just an idol; an idol that represents itself as something to put fear in someone's eyes. This is how it was, and this is how it will always be. This is any form's most basic method. Governments are against changes, against revolutions, against rebellions. A president can't give us change, it's simply impossible. A presidents an illusion; but such a big illusion, someone wouldn't question their self, their country, or their government.
Nationalism takes so many different forms people find it hard to conclude the one true form, because the government has made it that way. Before Christ nationalism thrived. It still does. Nationalism certainly didn't have the same name, or the same definition. But it was essential for mankind to survive, mankind needed pride. Pride for its territory, pride for its peers, and pride for itself. So I ask you this. Isn't patriotism what you take pride in? Isn't patriotism the way you help to make everything beneficial and better for the world itself?

It's an irony, to wake in the morning. To wake to hellish noise, a hellish noise of shear silence. To wake knowing you're the last man on earth. Many say oh that would be such a luxury so cool. But to walk endlessly down the roads of Manhattan with the smell of death a simple repetitive circle in life. You start to look forward to things, like the next time it rains, or the next time the sun will ever crescent the earth's atmosphere. Ask yourself is it a luxury to look forward to death? The healthy human mind doesn't wake up every morning thinking it's the last day on earth. But I think it’s a luxury, a certain freedom to know you're close to the end. You can either set priorities, or just watch the world burn right in front of you. Every season leaves fall from a tree, onto the ground. Everyday I close my eyes begging for a flashback of what a flower or a rose looked like. Being the last man on earth flushes the color out of you, flushes every damned memory in your mind.

Nature

*Authors Note*

This is a somewhat long piece. Thank you if you read the whole thing. I did the Fictional Piece while Collin Kane did the poem.

The growing global demands and the corruption of world economy may very well lead to total failure of human structure. The most current event in my eyes is a peak to this crisis, the gulf oil spill. Corporations and companies, such as the oil industry must find a more efficient and eco friendly process to pull through with their objectives. Despite the growing demand and despite the current issues concerning the government. A law may be passed as to open the door to this much larger crisis.

The crisis of global warming, our Earth can’t possibly sustain the pressure we are placing on it right now. We haven’t measured the level of effects we have or when the world will end, but what we do know is that our previous decisions aren’t helping. For example one of the million causes towards global warming is indeed oil, companies must put more effort into the process, or the system by which they transport their materials. Not just throw darts at a map and come to a spontaneous conclusion.

Oil companies themselves effect the environment, but a nice temporary solution is synthetic oil. As it helps the environment by reducing the bad or used oil waste stream. Researchers must perform the proper research and sacrifice the proper materials to find a separate eco friendly element, by which will open a whole new door to the demands and needs we face every day. If we can’t keep up, the world can’t either.

Water sloshes along the banks,
While fish swiftly swim,
Through the crystal clear water.
Small pebbles roll along with the current,
Stones being tossed in,
Disrupting the gentle sway,
The sway of this stream.
The ripples travel throughout the water,
And the fish scatter greatly frightened.
Further along the stream,
Frogs lie on lily pads,
And rib bit bringing an enchanting theme,
The theme of a stream being untouched,
Of no buildings,
Of just peace.
But it ends as a black substance travels down the stream,
Fish unknowingly stay near this mysterious thing,
Breathing it in through their gills,
Then realizing it brings pain,
It brings sickness,
It brings death.


Standing above all the other trees,
Delicately moving with the wind,
Branches hanging down,
Leaves sprouting,
The old willow tree.
Perfect for small animals to start their home in,
To start their family in,
To start to live.
Many animals claim their place in the hollow tree,
Building nests,
Building burrows,
Building love.
Animals scurry down the trunk looking for food,
Looking for water,
Looking for things to sustain their life.
They come back to a stump,
Of what used to be their home,
The old willow tree is tipped over,
With strange animals on two legs picking branches up,
Picking up nests,
Picking up carcasses.


Green grass covering the ground,
As a soft cushion above the earth.
The trees elegantly standing,
Silently watching.
Small animals make their homes in trees,
Hatching eggs,
Storing food,
Living as God intended.
Loud noises disrupt the serenity,
Noises not heard before.
Large things heading straight for this forest,
Straight at this home.
Trees crack and fall,
Animals scatter at the noise,
Scatter from the orange machines tearing apart their homes.
Though some stay protecting their homes,
Not knowing the power of these things heading for them.
The machines crush everything in their path,
They bring pain,
They bring sickness,
They bring death.
They are Mankind.


As I soar through the sky, the ground below me appears a delicate, fragile, and graceful piece of our future and our past. Herds of horses valiantly trample through the wide open planes. I may say that yesterday, today, and tomorrow are everything I would expect. Nature and all it has to offer is infinite. I land in my favorite spot in the whole wide world, the willow tree. The smells of its flowers and the care it shares with me. Never asking for anything in return. When I needed it most, it would comfort me.
Winter came, as I migrated south for months with the other birds. Admiring the luscious ground below us. We land in the desert and playfully wonder through the cloudless, illuminated plains before us. As time passed so did our environment. I decided to say here for longer, as I felt commendable. At first changes were small, but they grew larger and faster. Immense blocks all around me everywhere I passed it wasn’t preventable. The only thing that kept me together was the willow tree. Every night everyday I would dream of the willow tree.
I met one bird just like me, as he was quite admirable indeed. We would think of our homes and the warmth by which they gave to us. He was my companion forever. Soon we agreed to return to the willow tree. Ecstatic and joyful I couldn’t wait to lay my eyes on the willow tree, but in the back of my head I was disturbed and tormented by the changes of the once fertile and delicate ground. All the immense cubes and darkened rivers growing larger and larger even as we watch! My companion and I are filled with joy as we see the willow tree once again. Oh the willow tree, valiant as its branches sway in the wind, as it reaches towards the sky, symbolizing hope and love.
We lay our nest in one of the highest branches of the willow tree. As we proceed in the circle of life we lay our eggs and insure all we have into the willow tree. Weeks I would lay on those eggs, until finally one day they hatched. The heartwarming love the hatchlings brought to me. I felt complete with my companion and hatchlings life couldn’t have been better. My many trips in hunt for food and supplies still brought me the disturbing images of the blackened rivers and smoked clouds.
As I fly back to the willow tree, I am petrified from the once valiant tree laying in front of me. Just cement and black rivers, for now there are no hatchlings to comfort me, or a willow tree, or even my companion. Only my tears may comfort me, in my dreams and during the day, for they never ask for anything in return, as they share with me.

*Author's Note*



"Have you ever felt that strange unexplainable presence in your life, that bloodcurdling, yet miraculous experience? Were you ever afraid to be alone, to be in the dark? Were you ever afraid to turn around?"





Knock Knock Knock

Round and round the clock

3 o’clock

2 o’clock



Time began to spin

The air was growing thin

A breeze went through my skin



"W-We-Well, officer it was about 3 o’clock when I first woke up, for the air felt so br-br-brisk. I thought there surely must be something wrong with the th-thermostat, considering this I would've hassled Don, my husband, however he, he was at a business trip in Georgia for the next few days. S-So instead I got up and out of bed to check on the thermostat. First in th, the kitchen I wandered around for the light, b-but instead I switched the patio light on. And that was the first sighting... A dark silhouette stood in the window watching me almost as if it were a s-statue, I rubbed my eyes and it came closer, again I blinked and it continued closer to the window. It was a pattern almost as if it didn't exist when I was watching it. Afraid I fled and didn't c-come back until day break. I was sure I had overreacted and that it was some misunderstanding, so I proceeded to sleep in my bed last night. At 2 o’clock I woke again and it was that very moment when the sound of glass smashing into the ground c-came from the k-kitchen and in the doorway stood the same silhouette in my doorway, so I blinked and it was in front of my bed reaching out towards me, so I switched the l-lights on and it was gone."



I thought in my head. "There's absolutely no way this is true, this woman is crazy!"



"Sally I'm sure whatever it's you saw isn't there anymore. Perhaps I can give a psychiatrist a call for you, or perhaps your husband?"



"No r-really officer it's true!"



"Sally I'm truly am sorry, but I just don't have time for this."



"W-Wait, Wait! Officer!"



I left.



It was the night of that day, when I was woken around 1:30 getting a call from the station.



"Roger, we got calls from pedestrians in Meadow Brook; they claim to be hearing screams from their neighbor’s house. Do you think you could check it out?"



"Fine." I acknowledged in an unenthusiastic manner.



I soon arrived in Meadow Brook slowly patrolling the streets. Finely arriving at Sally's house I slowly approached the door. Nothing seemed suspicious at all. I knocked and knocked, but no sound.



"Mam, open the door." I shouted.



No response. So finally I broke the door. I drew my side arm filled with innocent fear.



"We have a code alpha in progress, suspect is at large, possible kidnapping, possible homicide. All available units respond."



I followed the trail of blood, out to a patio. No body in sight and nothing but blood.



Finally other agents from FBI with other organizations arrived and took over the scene.



The next night I woke up at 3 o’clock, as the phone beside by bed goes off again. I pick it up.



"Roger?"



"Yes?" I answered in a suspicious manner, for the female was calling in the middle of the night.



"It's Sally"



"Sally?!? I thought you were dead!"



"Well Roger, I am dead."



"Then who is it?" My heart racing.



"I am."



"You are who!?"



"I am. Something quite questionable indeed, I'm real, but I'm not real you see?"



And silence. I sat their in my bed, as the air around me grew brisk.

*Author's Note*
" The best type of the worst type of governments is democracy. All formats of politics are ridiculous and out of control, however there's always a best of the worst and its not going to change anytime soon. And so I bring myself to a point where there’s indeed an urge to compose a rather simplistic, yet parallel response acknowledging the current, growing, almost virtually poposturous event of politics and the obstacles it continuously throws at us."

They used to say everyday
That springs and oceans would play
But the new manner I feel
Gave me a violent delay

Hope is such an irony,
We die in reality
We will always fade away
My sister would think about…
But now we‘re filled with doubt

Trees around me dismantled
Root to the ground of exile
The ground I stand on is whiffed
Flowers in a dark pile

The sun above us is red
And all hopes of life are dead.