ozzy osbourne

You made us this way
Uneasy, tempestuous
Crazed and searching

But never finding
Within ourselves that which
We sought from you

We seek from them
As if their love
Could make us whole again.

You never understood
Love unconditional
Only the bawl of midnight drunks

The look from your father
That made you shiver
With cold, wet fear.

With us you tried
To heal your wounds
Cherishing your favorite

Because tenderness
Was something you never knew.
So you made love conditional

Something we had to prove
To fill that hole in you
Creating two holes anew

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being vs. self

I have glimpses, at times, of truly limitless being—of what it would be like to live without fear. It is always when I let go of my self-constructed narrative, the pain that was crucial in making me. I feel the bloom of freedom in my chest as I forget myself. I am mere consciousness, breath. The earth around me fades, my personalized view of reality disintegrates—I transcend time, space, bodily existence. I relinquish my role, the fervor with which I cling to identity construction and authentic expression.

I aim always to capture the truth of being and of feeling, the hidden meaning behind what we say and how we perform our roles. Through the active, performative iteration of my Self, I believe I can awaken the construction of the self in others. But the self is separate from being and from true humanness. The self is merely a guise we subsume, a costume we don as we wake from our dreams.

summer haiku series: cancelled / postponed

Just dropping in to say that I’ve decided to withdraw from my Summer Haiku Series. Perhaps I’ll pick it up again next summer, but for now, the form feels more constricting than freeing, and since this project was self-imposed, I have the freedom and the right to abandon it. I realized quickly after starting the series that limiting myself to a topic per week inhibited the free-flowing creativity I experienced with my haiku-a-day project. It felt too academic, too restrictive; I want my writing here to feel not like a chore but a portal through which I can escape—detach from the cruelty of the world to explore fully the wildness of sentiment.

And that’s what I plan to do, what I will do. But I will do it in the form I feel most in the moment. I have the rest of my degree to abide by imposing rules. So, to the few of you who visit this online diary every now and again, you can expect more prose and longer poems, short reflections, recapitulations of memory. I might also share some photos I’ve taken, and although I’ve just spent a paragraph griping about it, a haiku or two. It was through this form, after all, that I rediscovered my longing to write not only creatively but consistently.

summer haiku series: nature

I intended for this category to be about the natural world, but somehow it morphed into a reflection on human nature.

I.
July’s sunshine blinds
Cloaks me thick like muggy fog
I melt, gleam, glisten

II.
Sensitivity
By nature consumes me whole
Alone I am free

III.  Smile
The predator hunts
The prey cowers, then defends
Don’t be a rude bitch

IV.
Two generations
Of drinkers course through my blood
Second day sober

V.
Outstretched before me
The skinny shadow beast glides
Son of the stark sun

summer haiku series: love

Pair with this album.

I.
Violet evening
In your eyes, the warmth I seek
Soul of my solstice

II.
Not a feeling but
A place, the space between you
And me: a repose

III.
Moments before sleep
In my grandparents’ side room
Cocoon of covers

IV.  Emily
She captivates me
How she lives, perceives, creates
Integral ally

V.
True intimacy
Exists not through limbs fusing
But devotion voiced

summer haiku series: identity

I.
Your long, bony nose
Like a woodpecker’s, they said
The sting that made me

II.
Secondhand clothing
I don to invoke the past
Assume former selves

III.  Caucasian (Steal)
Lacking tradition
Appropriate to belong
The rootless privilege

IV.
Two thousand fifteen
The year I poisoned myself
With drink and grave men

V. 
Mere leaves on a tree
Uniform yet specific
We are each other

summer haiku series: youth

I.
From the beginning
You and me: free, safe to be
Because of their love

II.
The smell of roses
Drifts through a weak-hinged screen door
My first memory

III.
Ripe with bright promise
Lemonade and endless play
Lawless summer days

IV. 
Since growing older
I yearn for youth’s innocence
The crimeless lilac


I’ve found this new method of composing—deliberately choosing a subject to write about instead of writing about a moment in the day, letting it come naturally—to be more difficult. It is an exercise I will continue to pursue, however. Part of combating writer’s block is writing even when you’re not inspired.

Writing about my youth made me feel sad, nostalgic, like I wasn’t quite capturing its essence. I must return to it again, refine it, explore it further; it made me who I am. But how do you capture who you are, how you were made, in a mere 17 syllables?