Em Portugues

Entao, pra esto, eu vou escrever em vez de falar.
Tudo esto seja muito mas dificil que eu querei.
Tudo ema guerra que nadie quer mirar.
E de mal maneira e o governo nao quer notar.
Estou tan brava com o pais que nao gosto de falar com meus companeiros.
Nao gosto de falar com meus pais
Com meus amigos
Com tudo a gente que eu queria confiar
nao quero
nao posso
e impossivel.
A unica pessoa que posso falar e confiar
E meu mente.
E solamente meu mente.
Com tudos os trupos morriendo e tudos as vidas terminando
A unica pessoa que posso confiar
E
Eu.

Final Post!

Two analyses of photographs.

Explosion

Chancellorsville

Two creative pieces.

Seasons

Self-Worth

Two letters.

No One (New)

Response (New)

Group effort post.

Justification

Medium other than writing/photography.

Dreaming Through Eras

Own design and execution: dream

Gas Station (New)

Song lyrics.

Heavenly Harmonica (New)

Comic strip.

Ooh Funny Haha (New)


Author's note: Matt, thank you so much for an amazing semester, I've thoroughly enjoyed taking this class and having you as a teacher. Have a great summer and I hope to keep in touch!

Comic

Gas Station

This scene takes place
tucked away in a mountain bed,
at a lowly two a.m. broken down gas station
whose prices expired with the rusting door hinges.
This scene takes place
under an oranged streetlamp
that casts a shadow blanketing the forgotten station.
The building frays around its edges,
like a library book that’s been soaked and elapsed
in the anguished time it’s been set aside in a shelf.
The merciless mountain mouth swallows this modest little shanty
viciously gulping down every last memory it once held.

Heavenly Harmonica

Travelin' Soldier by: Dixie Chicks

The dawn passed Eden
He waited with feverish banter in his aunt's gate
Sitting down in a bench in a city that
Gave him orders to a gig with a beaten-in heavenly harmonica
"Hes a little shy" so says Gibbons holding a soda
At Hally Saunders. "Would you mind stayin down for a while
And talking to me?
Im 'fraid a lad's lost."
She says, "I'm outstanding in a harmonica and I know what we can get"

So they went down and they sang out to people
Hally said "I bet you get all bashful but I dont" chuckling
In greed. not one thought sent luck to Eden.
Whose young mind intelligibly Indulged so on benches having thoughts like:

"I can't
Never gonna have the harmonica of a gig"
'Too young for harmonicas', they told him
Waitin for the luck of a thinking sinner
Ongoing luck with no end
Waitin for the sinner to cross paths again
"Never make the performance again without the luck sadly",
Again so counted the harmonica-ist.

So the luck came from an amazing chap
In colors thread vivid
And he thistled harmonicas out his hands
It might be luck and all of the things Eden was so scared of
He said "why its getting kinda rowdy over here
I think out the dawn should darn a ton per
All" It came more efficiently and seemingly that people smiled
"Dont worry but I wont be around tonight" whispered Father Almond


One friday night at a fiddlin' gig
The luck played sufficiently and the audience sang
A man screamed, "Folks would you bob your heads"
Fiddlers, awestruck, listened on. Listening vehemently, distainfully.
Eden, all alone under the stage
Was a-playin passionately in the middle box
And once suddenly a sound and nobody really knew
But people saw a gig with a boy inside a heavinly harmonica

(In response to 'Letter to No One')

To whom it may concern:

I appreciate your thought and I shudder to think of where you are now...but I'd like to add one consideration to alter your stream of consiousness.
Human beings may often be self-indulgent and egotistical at times. However, we possess a quality that rarely any other species may: love.
Through sofly spoken words, a smile, a kiss, an embrace, or even a touch of the palm, overwhelming feelings may swarm a body so intensely that an individual can begin to feel warmth inside, even in the coldest of rainstorms.
This is love.
Know love, no hate.
I understand that time, death, and sadness may have weightened your mind. With what war brings are such times of tragedy, however, I wanted to let you know that no matter where you are on this earth, everyone smiles in the same language.
And always, someone somewhere has you in their thoughts.
God Bless Our Troops.
and God Bless You

Letter to No One

I hold no expectations over the readers of this letter. In fact, I expect no one to read it at all. Over the course of my lifetime, I've discovered that regardless of how indulged a person may be over the happenings in this world, each individual that composes this earth is relentlessly self-centered. You may consider me pessimistic at this point and put this tattered shred of paper down as if it were insignificant and go about the rest of your life. Or you could read on and be witness to my rainy-day discovery. Whether you do either is your own choice. Honestly, it wouldn't matter to me.
Anyway, back to the matter at hand: we shall take a small child, for instance. Older generations giggle bashfully as they fawn over the angered children that rip their toys out of an unsuspecting peer's hands. It is in human nature to take what we've preconceived as naturally ours.
If this isn't enough evidence for you, dearest reader, let's travel to the larger picture. Every day objects are labeled with lighting-sharp words such as "ours" "mine" "your's"...and why? Notions are derrived from our ancestors about what we own and what we need.
It gets so severe that rather than wrenching a plastic tractor out of the hands of another child, a human being will slash another's throat, burn their crops, explode their lands, and watch on the sidelines as future generations of their opposition suffer from the side effects. This is the result of the abomination of our race. This is the actions of war. Human beings are not necessarily a blood-thirsty, flesh-seeking species...we just protect what's ours.
So, as you read my finishing words of epiphany, you may be enlightend or you may be depressed. Either way it wouldn't matter to me. Since no ear is around to hear my last words of thought, and the rain drowns out any last shard of hapiness my mind once held, I could give a damn whether or not you appreciated my written word. All I know is that I've left my mark on this world. Through my only means, I've shared my last bits of knowledge.
Now I sit holding a cold thought to resound this frozen nightfall. What was I protecting to sacrifice so much in this war?

Si Se Puede

That we are not as divided as our politics suggest,
That we are one people,
We are one nation,
And together we will begin the next great chapter
In the american story with three words that will ring
From coast to coast
From sea to shining sea
YES WE CAN