Sunday, February 27, 2011

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Without arm man inspires, creates

Vol. 40 No. 7 • FEBRUARY 16, 2011

By George P.Hassett

When Jose Gonzalez constructs kites for his
grandchildren, plays the bongos in his band or
builds furniture, most onlookers focus on something
he doesn't dwell on: he only has one arm.
Gonzalez, a Winter Hill resident, performs a
variety of tasks - from shoveling to driving a stick
shift vehicle - that wouldn't seem possible for a
man born with one arm.He shrugs off the praise
he receives from neighbors and family who tell
him he is inspirational.
“My friend used to say, 'Yo, if you had two arms
maybe you could be mayor or president.' I said,
'if I had two arms maybe I'd be a lazy bum,”Gonzalez
said through an interpreter.
Gonzalez moved to Somerville nine years ago
from his hometown Corasol, Puerto Rico. In
Puerto Rico he said people in the community
hired him to construct miniature replicas of local
landmarks, including the town's oldest barbershop,
and homes. He said he would like to
begin building Somerville landmarks now that
he lives here.
Jasen Sousa, a family advocate with the Community
Action Agency of Somerville, works
with Gonzalez and his family.He said Gonzalez'
artistic drive and creativity are inspiring, especially coming from a man who
the world might view as having less.
“Jose doesn't have all the things many of us were
born with but he does more with less,” Sousa
said. “To have the inspiration to be motivated
and create and not give up on life or be mad at
the world.He wants to create and give back with
his art and his music, even though he had something
taken from him.”
Gonzalez is a skilled bongo player, creating a diverse
range of sounds, from African rhythms to
rock and roll, and he traveled with a band for years
before coming to the United States.
In Gonzalez' hometown, the mayor and local media
recognized him for his art. He said the recognition
feels good but he is not conceited about his
accomplishments. The work he is most proud of,
he said, is the art inspired by the folklores and traditions
of Puerto Rico.
His materials can be whatever falls to hand,
including wood he finds in the trash.He built a
prosthetic arm for himself before he got one
from the doctor.
Gonzalez is the father of six - three grown children
and three young children. Sousa said he is a
devoted father, particularly to his 12-year-old autistic
son. Gonzalez cuts his son's hair and plays the
bongos with him but he says he looks forward to
the free time he has to craft his creations.
“I work anytime of day, whenever I can find the
time,” he said.“It's just another way to relax, entertain
and pass the time.”

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Books Involving Skateboarding


I was looking up some books for a parent who has a son that loves skateboarding, but doesn’t like reading so much. Check out these books youngins, you just might like em!!!


Paranoid Park by Blake Nelson
The Trouble With Skateboarding by Chris Ashley
Skate by Michael Harmon
The Concrete Wave by Michael Brooke
The Answer Is Never by Jacko Weyland
Disposable by Sean Cliver

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Somewhere Lost By Jasen Sousa - Order Directly From the Author : Special Limited Edition





$11.99
Order Your Copy of Somewhere Lost Now!!!
Please Visit JASENSOUSA.NET

Release Date January 24, 2011

DESCRIPTION

This collection of poems chronicles Jasen's relationships with people who have had substance abuse problems in their lives. This collection is not intended to ridicule those who have suffer from addiction, but rather show respect to their struggle to become free again. Addiction is not a fault or a weakness, it is a disease , and it just so happens that many of the people Jasen grew up with suffer from this disease, which puts the author in a unique position to tell this story, his story, and their stories, while trying to find some type of hope inside of this lonely, and repetitive urban experience.

Backing up my writing online continues…

Photobucket

Backing up my writing online continues…
Just finished uploading all of the poems from my 4th poetry book, Almost Forever. I wrote Almost Forever in my early twenties. Very dark book that I wrote entirely inside of a cemetery. Buried a lot of demons during this process. Well, two more books to go, Close Your Eyes and Dream With Me and A Thought and a Tear for Every Day of the Year. Hope you enjoy checking out some of my early work!

Peace,

Jasen

ALMOST FOREVER By Jasen Sousa

ALMOST FOREVER


My friend,
everything must come to an end.

This is my shot to be known
throughout the galaxy,
when it comes time for me to put down my pen,
please don’t be mad at me.

We all must die someday,
for now we have no alternate answer.
I imagine immortality,
sketched every sentence, every stanza.

I did everything known to man
to make something of my life.
I followed my heart into the future
and everything I attempted, well, it just felt right.

I believe
I have created something
that will never die,
that’s why I am able to accept my misery.

Keep me in your heart,
let me live on through your children.
With your help no one can break down
the monumental structure we are building.

Almost forever,
I’m almost there.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

POINT OF PERIL By Jasen Sousa

POINT OF PERIL


Today I decide
where my body will reside.
A mind full of twisting thoughts,
hands spin wildly on clocks,
time ticks towards my extinction.

Pages, a desert where words sink into sand.

Repercussion, seeds I plant
do not believe in reproduction.
All I have written which will not be heard,
blown away with the wind, my final word.
Point of peril, day of destruction.

Sentences run the streets like strays.

Sacrifice my body
on a concrete surface.
My poems, my perspective, my pain,
no purpose.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

GRAVE LOVE By Jasen Sousa

GRAVE LOVE


Inside a cemetery
I witness a girl who gracefully
walks by the gates of steel.
I experience a sensation
a dead man
is not meant to feel.

She approaches the gate and speaks.
I respond even though I am in shock.
Steel separates us,
we talk.

Remembering what it feels like
to be a man,
she reaches through the gate
and holds my hand.

Cold, lifeless, fingers,
blood no longer in my stream.
Love no longer
inside of my dream.

The girl tries her hardest
to bring me back into her world.
Not an easy task,
to convince a dead man
that this is a love which can forever last.

Pleads her case
as tears stream down her face,
trying to rescue a man from his final resting place.

She can’t find a way in,
I can’t find a way out.
She begins to speak quickly,
I put my lifeless finger upon her mouth.

Words are not said between the living and dead.

She places a kiss on my lifeless lips.
I walk away
and disappear into cemetery mist.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

Lyrical Realm By Jasen Sousa

Lyrical Realm


I am one with the Earth
like the birds and the trees,
hear my words spoken softly
mixed in with the breeze.

The oceans and the seas,
the sun and the moon.
A wake, a funeral, a casket,
but an empty tomb.

Forgive me for not waiting
to enter Heaven, I found another place where I belong.
I will travel to the same place words go
after a musician sings a song.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

THE KEY TO PARADISE By Jasen Sousa

THE KEY TO PARADISE


This place called paradise is not a destination,
it can be found under layers of sin and skin,
under layers of blood and perspiration.
It’s not somewhere you can be sent by the prayers of men.

Paradise is not a place only visited after death,
the key to paradise is broken in half,
half in your heart, and half in your mind.

You must connect the pieces before you perish,
for you to witness a paradise no one else can see,
and not die without being accompanied by things you cherish.

The key to paradise is not something
which can be touched by a human hand.
You can follow other paths, but none will suffice.
Paradise will always slide through your fingertips like little grains of sand,
until you realize, bringing another with you is the only way to paradise.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

A HEART OF FEATHERS By Jasen Sousa

A HEART OF FEATHERS


Anger, dishonesty, resentment,
emotions that carry serious weight.
Keeping these emotions in your heart
will never allow you to be great.

When you walk your feet will drag on concrete,
ankles will bruise and swell.
Heaven is a place you will never visit,
an entire eternity roaming in Hell.

The only way is through apologies,
the ability to forgive.
Then and only then,
will you begin to live.

I cleansed my soul
through the material I wrote.
Let the God’s rip the heart out of my chest
and drop it off a cliff to test and see if it will float,

or if it will drop like a rock
into fire and smoke.
Let us see whose heart is filled with hate,
and whose heart is filled with hope.

A heart made
out of gold
is a heart
that is too heavy to hold.

A heart made
out of feathers
is only a heart
that could create these letters.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

SETTING OF MY SACRIFICE By Jasen Sousa

SETTING OF MY SACRIFICE



Night is dim, my living future ghostly grim,
the probability of continuing on is impossibly slim, scenery steadily stark.
Setting of my sacrifice, skin sweating, blood morbidly like ice.
I wanted to see what it was like, the last days of my life spent in dark,
my persistent perception to be peremptory,
the final thought from my mind, the final period placed at the end of my story.

Sky flashes lightning, soul and spirit clash as I am writing,
skin covered with gashes, breathing in air filled with ashes, uttering my last words.
Blood dripping, no more love, nothing uplifting,
to this oracle, only one event left which inevitably occurs.
Vision blurs, sentences filled with slurs, thoughts of tranquility,
arranged with aberrant ability, a setting of me killing me.

The world never accepted me, rejected me.
Morticians inject me and vultures dissect me, protect me, no one ever tried.
Into my casket I snuggle and settle, don’t let go of my legendary librettos.
Setting of my sacrifice, staged bright lights as I die,
the future of my heart when they find what’s inside, mouths open wide.

A stake through my hand, pen falls into sand,
a crown adorned with thorns, bullets and blades rest on my head.
Setting of my sacrifice, all life is dead.
Blood dripping from my pours, life is ignored.
Spirit leaves my body, takes to the sky and soars.

Blood spills as I’m dragged up a hill and laid on top the mountain’s peak,
brutally beaten, I hear them speaking as I experience a myriad of blows.
These prejudice people who are not aware of my secret sequel,
a gallant effort to make sure my greatness never grows.
On a paper cross, my thoughts are nailed,
in anticipation, they wait for my damnation, look, my wounds have healed.

For six days I waited patiently in my other worldly vacancy,
all those who break me, you are forgiven.
Treasure never stays buried forever,
thought I was dead, but I never stopped living.
Setting of my sacrifice, day of my demise,
after reading the seventh stanza, I will once again rise.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

THE ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF MY IMAGINATION By Jasen Sousa

THE ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF MY IMAGINATION


The immunity in my imagination,
I engineered while I dwelled.
They prayed for my devastation,
unique creations which the world wished to see expelled.

The greater my ideas,
the more my peers wished to murder my mind.
The attempted assassination of my imagination is one of my foremost fears,
they are trying to make my imagination blind!

One day it occurred,
my imagination was infiltrated.
Images started to blur,
I realized how much I was hated.

The attempt to kill what I imagine,
what I create,
by a shooting or a stabbing,
that will never be my imagination’s fate.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

LIFE AND LIVING By Jasen Sousa

LIFE AND LIVING


The invisible enemy
that preys on people in the inner city.

Can’t be complacent
to the unjust ways of
institutional discrimination.

The land of the people, by the people,
has been taken over
and is under the control of the corporation.

Politicians who run for office
get their campaign money
and are able to win elections
from corporate donations.

Companies are allowed to break the law
and it causes grave devastation.

It’s supposed to be illegal for tobacco companies
to target children,
yet near every place of education you will see advertising .

They are allowed to do it
and defy authority
to get your kid hooked at a young age
and create brand loyalty.

The tobacco company would like to keep it simple
and only target adults,
but teens are the biggest spenders,
without us there would not be profitable results.

To have you smoke the same brand until you die of lung cancer
is every cigarette makers dream.

Companies have even taken over our schools,
spend eight hours learning about a logo
illuminated on a Pepsi or Coke machine.

When you’re old
you will drink the same soda you drank as a boy,
but that’s only if you’re lucky
and don’t live in East St. Louis, Illinois.

A place you won’t be able
to locate on the map.
It’s a city with obsolete services,
and it’s 98% black.

Pretty whack.

It isn’t fair
when 80% of the population
lives on welfare.
For these residents Hell is not a place you go,
Hell is right here.

Schools are over crowded,
kids are graduating that can’t read or write.
Diplomas from ghetto high schools
don’t lead to a better life.

It’s mental and it’s physical,
this land is supposed to be indivisible,
but it’s creating living conditions
which are barely livable.

Did you know that the waste
from products companies make
is placed in neighborhoods
with people who have the poorest looking face?

The truth is out there,
but no one will believe you.
When you have a job
that doesn’t allow you to live comfortable,
that’s when you turn illegal.

Let’s send politicians and corporations to jail
and let criminals be forgiven.
Poverty exists because it’s easier to make a life,
then it is to make a living.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

ETERNAL GLORY By Jasen Sousa

ETERNAL GLORY


The writings of one man
written without a lifespan.
Something cannot die if it was never born,
from the physical being to the supernatural life form.
The patent, the prototype of a poet’s personality,
what was once dreams, gleams reality.
Studied society, the people’s plight,
those who were presumed dead were given life.
Time fears that which cannot be destroyed,
years from now, still utterly enjoyed.
Showing no signs of decay, a legendary lesson,
a structure built to perfection.
From my internal story,
I hope to find eternal glory.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

AM I HUMAN? By Jasen Sousa

AM I HUMAN?


I am made of blood and skin,
yet there is something very strange
that runs through my veins.
I walk with a different strut, got something great in my gut,
I am human, but…




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

THE BEAUTIFUL BURDEN BESTOWED UPON MY BRAIN By Jasen Sousa

THE BEAUTIFUL BURDEN BESTOWED UPON MY BRAIN


It started off as an illogical idea.
A young man, age of 23, this is not what was meant for me.
Illumination and realization of an unimaginable fear,
a script dead spirits secretly sent to me.

To give up thoughtless treasures that makes a person greedy,
a suffering which strangulates me to succumb.
To let pointless pleasures pass away, and always be there for those who need me,
to transform my thoughts from the norm, even if it will make my body numb.

To be respected for taking care of those who are needlessly neglected,
to bury what I was and dig up what I could be.
My passion so powerful, to the point where I could perfect it,
to never question what I’m doing, doing what I know I should be.

To live alone and be surrounded by crowds,
to have enough energy to act different as everyone else.
To secure a permanent residency in the clouds,
to be dead for years and have my poetry still beating with a pulse.

The great weight that rests on my mind,
a magnificent misfortune, a monstrosity indeed.
A beautiful way to be blind,
a virtue to know what will hurt you, the vice of being picked to lead.

To have vision to see people’s scars,
to have wisdom to acknowledge those who have death on their breath.
Constructed by the great pyramid builders, my mind aligned with the stars,
to be viewed long after my body has left.

No, I am not insane,
to have a perspective that welcomes pain.
To have thoughts that are not the quite the same,
the beautiful burden bestowed upon my brain.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

A DATE WITH DESTINY By Jasen Sousa

A DATE WITH DESTINY


Since our first date,
I knew Destiny and I were to be soul mates.

We held each other
in front of Heaven’s Gates
and stared deeply into each others eyes.

We spent our first nights together
discussing our future and our past,
feeling emotions we never felt before,
strategizing a way to make this love last.

I held destiny’s hand tightly
and never wanted to loosen my grip,
in that one instance I decided
this Destiny was it.

We can’t go one waking hour
without having each other on the mind.
All I see is my Destiny,
to my Destiny, I was never blind.

Our future together was expected.
Alone on this land we stand,
Destiny and I, hand and hand.

I will never let go of my Destiny
and my Destiny will never let go of me.
My Destiny,
it was meant to be.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

Comfort’s Misery By Jasen Sousa

Comfort’s Misery


Happiness is an ENDLESS search.
Our precious lives waste away trying to fulfill needs,
losing touch with all we love so much,
our spirit separates from our skin and leaves.

Accept and welcome misery in your life,
it will undoubtedly come, do not run.
The more you don’t deal with your problems,
the more likely you will succumb.

Pleasure is pointless, nothing, but an evaporating emotion.
The more your skin experiences stimulation, the more dreams fade.
A dream for desire, an imagination infected,
the reason why so many have never made it.

Stand against raging winds no matter how hard they blow,
do not let them move you from your stance.
Those who search for comfort find misery,
the reason why so many never get the chance to advance.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

I AM NOT AFRAID TO DIE By Jasen Sousa

I AM NOT AFRAID TO DIE


I am not afraid to die.

I accept it with open arms.

When it is my time to die,
I will not struggle,
I will be at peace, I will be calm.

I know I will experience my demise,
I know I will resurrect and rise.

I’m not afraid to close my eyes for good.
Underneath my eyelids are pictures I paint.
Something beautiful to look at

when I forever faint.



Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

CONDITIONS FOR CREATING A CLASSIC By Jasen Sousa

CONDITIONS FOR CREATING A CLASSIC


Dirt broke, no hope.
Suicidal soul.

One cannot create a classic
unless they battle their shadow for survival.

Mind must be in a state of confusion,
distant illusions.

Half brilliant, half insane,
only a mad man
has classic conditions captivating their brain.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

Murderer By Jasen Sousa

Murderer


I watched during my final day
as everything slowly gave away.

They were saying my name
and it was not pronounced the same way
it was in my dream.

I watched myself die
and saw that I wouldn’t be remembered
for what was truly in my mind.

Blind existence.

I seen my soul covered with scars,
cuts and gashes, but no one knew why I bled.

I watched myself die for the last day
and made sure I would live on tomorrow.

Murdering your former self
is the only way to change your ways.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

HELL IS ON THE WAY TO HEAVEN By Jasen Sousa

HELL IS ON THE WAY TO HEAVEN


You must be able to accurately describe the face of evil
before you can enjoy anything emotionally exquisite.

Suffering is necessary
for development of the soul.

Be ready
to encounter flames and fire.
Understand what it feels like to burn
in the depths of Hell,
and freeing others
will become your ultimate desire.

This is a map
to the promised land.

The first stop in Hell,
the loss of a loved one.

Someone close to you
will attempt to destroy all you try to create.
This is everyone’s fate.

I just made it to Heaven,
you can smell my burning flesh.
Hell is on the way to Heaven,
something we all must accept.

To get out of Hell
you must memorize directions on this map.

Walk away from the material world,
all that is not real.
You have been to Heaven before,
don’t you remember how great it used to feel?

Hell’s doors are not sealed.
Jesus told me this
as his hands and feet were being nailed.

Come join me and we’ll sit on a cloud
and talk about your journey while sipping
fresh nectar that the God’s prepare.

You are near, so very near.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

THE MEANING OF FOREVER By Jasen Sousa

THE MEANING OF FOREVER


For forever I dream, what does it mean?
Is forever something I’ve seen, or something I will never get to view?
The meaning of forever, I define as existing in one’s heart and mind.
Forever will mean something different for me than it will for you.
We search blindly for forever until we run out of time
in hopes that the meaning of forever is something we might find.

As close as ever to almost forever,
or possibly to live for eternity in the Land of Never.
A place that is not an illusion, a place where life comes to a conclusion.
My soul remains in seclusion until I think of something cunningly clever.
Forever is not a delusion, forever I imagine, just what it might mean?
Forever, to pull the entire world inside my dream.

Forever is more than anyone can comprehend, forever has no end.
Grasping beauty before we’re too old.
Forever is here. It sounds like forever to me, can you hear?
The meaning of forever is told.
Forever, I never knew what it meant before.
Forever, I now understand, forever, I want more.

I silently swallow, forever tomorrow, forever they will follow.
Temporary sorrow, but forever I rejoice.
Visiting earth, to young brains I give birth.
My face is recognized throughout space, forever my voice.
Forever is my choice. Now that I know the meaning, I can never second guess,
forever, even in death, forever my breath.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

CEMETERY SUNSET By Jasen Sousa

CEMETERY SUNSET


All alone,
curled and crunched
up against a tombstone
watching the sun sink into the earth.
A fiery sky
hovering over all that has died,
wondering if the dead get to experience a rebirth?

Names of the perished,
people who were once greatly cherished,
illuminated by sunlight.
A resting place for those
who no longer have a face,
the meaning of a life.

The grass is on fire,
desires of the deceased grow
from underneath the earth,
still burning as great as ever.
No longer with the power to speak,
words grow to the surface in the form of flowers.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

SITTING ON THE STAIRWAY TO SALVATION STILL WAITING… By Jasen Sousa

SITTING ON THE STAIRWAY TO SALVATION
STILL WAITING…


The woman was gone
and I found myself sitting on the stairway to salvation all alone.
I was sitting on God’s stairway,
but by no means did it feel like a throne.
Tears rolling down my cheeks as I sat there for weeks,
thunderous tears pounding on stone.
With the empty cup of Christ in my hand,
seeing if the Lord had any miracles to loan.
I was sitting on the stairway to salvation
and didn’t know if I was going to make it home.

I was heavily breathing,
my heart rapidly pulsating.
Gasping for air, no one there, no one to care.
Feel like I’m suffocating,
sitting on the stairway to salvation,
calmly complacent,
patient,
still waiting.

Grief stricken, gum on my sneaker sticking, time ticking.
People walk by and don’t even glance.
Afraid to look at the man on the stairs, for so long he has stayed,
all I am asking for is a chance.
To read what I bleed,
rhymes filled with reconciliation, renunciation and romance.
The idea isn’t knew to me, waiting for the opportunity
for the Lord to come out and ask me to dance.
Blood is in my sight, as I sit on church stairs and cut myself with a knife.
It’s my vision from my incisions that gives me the ability to emotionally enhance.

I was heavily breathing,
my heart rapidly pulsating.
Gasping for air, no one there, no one to care.
Feel like I’m suffocating,
sitting on the stairway to salvation,
calmly complacent,
patient,
still waiting.

How long will I have to wait for God to open his gate?
Fate not sure, how much longer will I be able to endure?
I sat on the stairway to salvation
and it started to pour,
I didn’t beg for it to stop,
I begged for it to rain more!
To wash away all my pain
down to the point where I am perfectly pure.
I saw a white pigeon
fly off the concrete and soar.

I was heavily breathing,
my heart rapidly pulsating.
Gasping for air, no one there, no one to care.
Feel like I’m suffocating,
sitting on the stairway to salvation,
calmly complacent,
patient,
still waiting.

For hours, I sat through showers
and watched the bird freely fly
and wished with all my heart
for that to someday be I!
To be able to escape all of my problems
and take to the sky!
I sat on the stairway to salvation
waiting for God to arrive, so I could say my final goodbye.
I sat on the stairway to salvation
waiting to die...




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

THESE ARE FIGHTING WORDS By Jasen Sousa

THESE ARE FIGHTING WORDS


The time has come for us to take a stand,
this is the day we decide we will take no more!
Raise your fists high in the sky
and listen to your people roar!

Over our heads birds will soar
and the sun will shine!
It is time for you to take what is rightfully yours
and it is time for me to take what is mine!

Our feet stomp in succession
as we march in procession
to stop all those who wish to see us die,
all those who believe in oppression.
These are fighting words,
let us teach them a lesson!

As we proceed we might bleed,
let us ask for God’s blessing.

What we do
will not be for the faint of heart,
battle scene more gruesome
than a monster in the dark.

We will lose loved ones,
this is the problem of war,
but in the end
because of us, more will endure!

Fight for what you are passionate about,
fight for all that is pure!
Fight when the noise is no longer,
fight when you are angry, fight when you are somber.
Fight as though you know
no enemy is stronger!

Fight everyday
like this is a battle that must be won.
Let us put aside our differences and fight as an allegiance.
Fight, as we all come together as one.

Fight the enemy
under the moonlight or the sun.
Fight until your body has no feeling
and is numb.

Fight my friend,
fight to the very end!
Fight with blood
dripping into your eyes.
Fight if you have to,
fight until your demise!

Fight for those who still live
and fight for those who never got a chance
to say their final goodbyes.

Fight, not for the right to kill,
fight because it is a matter of life and death!
Fight!
For the right of breath.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

HOLDING WHAT By Jasen Sousa

HOLDING WHAT


Nothing more to offer,
but a weary shrug
when I am asked about the one
I dearly love.

We have been separated
for quite some time,
together as one,
the life that used to be yours and mine.

Every image in my mind
has vanished, except your beauty, unsurpassed.
Images of light shining through stained glass.

Our souls separated, our bond starting to slip,
losing our grip.
Might not ever be able to hold hands again,
what if…




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

STORY ROAD By Jasen Sousa

STORY ROAD


Follow me down story road,
down a trail of scripture steps.
Be energized by exploding emotions,
pages are turned by blown breaths.

Follow me down story road,
where lampposts are sculpted as pens,
their tips shine bright.
Rivers, lakes, and oceans flow with blue and black ink,
find dreams inside streams, call it a sea of life.

Follow me down story road,
where pavement is made out of paper with blank lines.
An empty road of empty space,
unformed thoughts wait to be created
by imaginative minds.

Follow me down story road,
where trees have autumn letters as leaves.
Authors write stories by grabbing them like apples,
bright and shiny B’s, D’s, E’s, G’s, V’s, T’s and Z’s.

Follow me down story road,
where images of great writers are painted on walls,
and you can hear their stories being told
every time the wind squalls.

Follow me down story road,
where buildings are built like books,
and what ideas live inside
are not judged by their looks.

Follow me down story road,
look up towards the sky and see birds soar.
Words are written on the wings of broken hearts,
pure words that cure.

Follow me down story road,
where sidewalks are scribbled with sentences.
Read inspiring quotes
painted on natural fences.

Follow me down story road,
where everything is written in bold.
Follow me down story road,
and take a journey down a street
that tells one of the greatest stories ever told.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

THE LOST CITY OF NEW ORLEANS By Jasen Sousa

THE LOST CITY OF NEW ORLEANS


The lost city of New Orleans,
a storm came through washing away hopes and dreams.

Natural disaster, it hit and not much was left after.
Blew in with a force never seen before,
wind roared, picking homes off the ground.
People were warned, but no one
was ready for what was in store.

Hurricane subsided, leaving no mercy
on where thousands once resided.
City built by the sea,
man made walls were broken, door to the ocean opened.
Water rose to rooftops, quite a sight to see.

Water continued to rise, people looked for a miracle,
but no help was seen in the skies.
Those who survived the storm were stranded.
To stay breathing, people began to loot, people began to shoot.
Days passed and people felt like they were abandoned.

Strange, circumstances began to affect people’s brains.
Humans turned into animals,
not knowing if they would survive.
Young people who didn’t know their fate,
turned to violence, turned to rape.
Family members nudged loved ones from naps,
they didn’t wake.

Victims continued to steal, images became unreal.
Buried caskets rose from graves and floated in water,
scenes that looked like they came from a book,
reminders of all the life God took.
People suffered in the sweltering temperatures,
it continued to get hotter.

Store windows shattered by bats,
corpses on curbs being eaten by rats.
The living were forced to co-exist with the dead,
the deceased gave off an unbearable smell,
this is Earth, but these were visions of Hell.
No one is certain of what will lie ahead.

Underwater neighborhoods,
some say they understand,
only those there understood.
Drowned areas where great music once played.
Those who didn’t have much,
everything they owned in their hands tightly clutched.
Some were rescued, some refused, some stayed,
some decayed.

The water will eventually leave
and once again people will begin to believe.
The lost city will once again be found and be reborn.
The lost city flooded with filth, will again be rebuilt
and take an even more majestic form
than it did before the storm.

The lost city of New Orleans
came apart at the seams,
streets turned into streams.
The lost city of New Orleans,
how gorgeous it gleams.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

S.P.I.R.I.T.S. By Jasen Sousa

S.P.I.R.I.T.S.


Special People Invisibly Remain Inside These Sentences,
trapped inside cemetery fences reciting repentances.

Channeling their energy through my arm,
they are not meant to cause anyone harm.
Don’t be scared by their ghostly presence.
If you listen you will learn some of life’s most valuable lessons.

Special People Invisibly Remain Inside These Sentences,
trapped inside cemetery fences reciting repentances.

I was out having too much fun, had my baby too young,
had it with a man I absolutely despise.
Trying to escape my pain I ruined my brain with drugs.
Overdosed for good at 19, brought to my demise.

Special People Invisibly Remain Inside These Sentences,
trapped inside cemetery fences reciting repentances.

One night I had too much too drink, impaired my ability to think.
I took the wheel knowing I should not drive,
pushed the pedal with persistence, my life gone in an instance.
Crashed into a bridge and the jaws of life couldn’t even help me survive.


Special People Invisibly Remain Inside These Sentences,
trapped inside cemetery fences reciting repentances.

I lived in a bad neighborhood, had no one to watch my back, had to cop a gat.
Kept it in my pants making sure anyone who messed with me wouldn’t have a chance.
My little brother found it, I saw him blast out his brains, heart pounded, silence. My Turn.
We both loved music, my little brother and I will never again get a chance to dance.

Special People Invisibly Remain Inside These Sentences,
trapped inside cemetery fences reciting repentances.

Kids picked on me in class, I wanted to have the last laugh.
Went to Wal-Mart and bought a gun off the shelf,
found classmates that I hate and decided their fate,
then I pulled it on myself.

Special People Invisibly Remain Inside These Sentences,
trapped inside cemetery fences reciting repentances.

Spirits which were slain, watch them fly out of my frame
as they could sense I was getting weak.
Spirits who chose the hand of this man to write, vanished into night,
they will return when it is again time to speak.

Special People Invisibly Remain Inside These Sentences,
trapped inside cemetery fences reciting repentances.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

THE TOMB OF THOUGHTS By Jasen Sousa

THE TOMB OF THOUGHTS


For 23 years
buried beneath the ground,
no one knew they possessed sound.
There are legends
of the location where they exist.
Ideas sketched on unflustered pages,
left uncovered for ages.
Memoirs from a mind shadowed
in a mythical mist.
Thoughts that don’t yet have a name,
under the earth waiting to be found by an explorer
who will tell the world of their worth.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

TUESDAY, THE 3rd DAY OF SPRING By Jasen Sousa

TUESDAY, THE 3rd DAY OF SPRING


It’s Tuesday,
the 3rd day of spring
as I sit outside and let sun
shine on my skin.
I look up towards the sky
after a long cold winter,
all I can say is, “Sun where have you been?”

Mounds of snow still survive,
they pile up high on a sidewalk’s edge.
On sides of buildings
are larger piles,
I see, peeking out,
a green hedge.

After a cold, dark and snowy winter,
I witness life that begins to appear.
Animals and insects anxious as us
to catch some rays.

I sit, near my feet, on the warm concrete,
pigeons look for something to eat.
I pull a package of crackers
out of my pocket
and feed them their first springtime treat.

Squirrels chase each other
with a bounce in their step,
they too can feel
the soon to be summer heat.

I see arms for the first time
in a long time.
Jackets are put away for winter,
the wooden bench I sit on,
was recently covered with ice.

Men’s and women’s shirts
unbuttoned an extra hole or two,
they leave their office for lunch
and step into a beautiful blue which seems so new.

This is the type of day
when you go out and walk around,
even if you have nowhere to go and nothing to do.


Workers across the street
take down Christmas lights
off trees with no leaves, bashfully bare.
All around me, signs
that springtime
is finally here.

Cars drive by,
their windows roll down,
and pump up the volume
of their CD’s favorite sound.
Tall office buildings
can’t stop the sun from shining on the ground.

This is Tuesday,
the 3rd day of spring.
I watch a little girl
hold the hand of her mother.
I write a portrait
that a famous painter
will one day color.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

ASLEEP WITH ANGELS By Jasen Sousa

ASLEEP WITH ANGELS


I see myself in the future sleeping in my new bed
as I pull my new covers made of clouds to my chin.
I feel fingers full of life on my head
and this is where my new life will begin.

Now that I am no longer on Earth, I have no restraints,
I am no longer tied down, no longer material possessed.
I am asleep with angels and surrounded by saints,
I can’t explain the feeling in my chest, no more stress.

As I write this I am on my back floating freely,
gravity is gone and for once, nothing seems like it’s wrong.
I’m writing to let my friends know, man, they are never going to believe me!
I am never going to see them again, I am not going back there, this
is where I belong!

I am asleep with angels and they are singing me to sleep
with a song that sounds so sweet,
my eyes shut slowly and I am no longer afraid.
Meanwhile, I levitate off of my feet,
angels have just read me a bedtime story about being brave.

I recognize the face in the grave, can’t quite make out who it resembles,
I am asleep with angels, please don’t let me awake.
The image is clear, my entire body trembles,
I know my outcome, I know my fate.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

I WRITE ON THE NIGHT SKY By Jasen Sousa

I WRITE ON THE NIGHT SKY


I am no longer a part of this earth.

Formaldehyde runs through my frame, still alive, my name.
Thoughts twinkle in the night sky and wait to give birth,
hovering over everything which still remains.

I write on midnight mist.

Search for my ideas like constellations through a telescope.
If you’re searching for a reason to exist,
look to the heavens for hope.

My spirit and my soul lost in space.

My aspirations ascend,
the future, the familiarity of my face,
please remember.

I write from light years away,

stars sparkle and outline my signatures formation.
Appearing at night after the end of each day,
writing on the night sky from an undisclosed location.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

THE GREATEST LOVE STORY OF ALL By Jasen Sousa

THE GREATEST LOVE STORY OF ALL


My love story
does not involve a gorgeous girl
who I dream about being with.

My love story
involves myself,
and it includes you.
I couldn’t think of a love
that could be more true.

I stay awake for countless days
thinking of ways
to gain your trust
so we can hold hands
and engage in a lifetime of lust.

The day you finally fall in love with me,
I’ll never forget your eyes .

Like any true love story, I hope
I am able to make your heart melt.
I hope one of the reasons why you love me
is because I am always there when you need help.
I believe that to be the key
to any good relationship.

I can see tears in your eyes when you shake me
and I will not wake up.
Don’t worry,
we will never be that far apart.

When we reach for each other
our hands will meet in Heaven halfway.

This is the type of love
that won’t let a young man like me grow old,
and now behold,
the greatest love story ever told.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

CASKETS, CONDOLENCES, AND COBWEBS By Jasen Sousa

CASKETS, CONDOLENCES, AND COBWEBS


I lay without anything left to say,
dark is the day, my mind left without a thought.
The sky is grey as pigeons and vultures feast on my body and prey.
Body begins to decay, but what I have wrote will never rot.
A famous figure stretched out for the world to view,
the world waits for me to be buried, I wait for a day anew.

Outwit, outwork, outlast, never be mentioned as part of the past,
bugs eat away at my body, spiders on this writer forming cobwebs on my conscience.
My precious pen which wrote its way into the hearts of men,
sentences slithering like snakes trying to make sense.
Condemned, no company around my corpse, I await my last breath,
living everyday with a mental drawing depicting my death.

One more spirit inside a casket sealed, on oceans of blood I’ve sailed,
the resurrection will not be revealed as I glow and awake.
My God guided mission, lyrics that make you listen,
floating right through Heaven’s gate.
Not a factious fragment of your imagination,
but a relevant realization.

A tragedy they proclaim as cobwebs cover my name,
pages of my books, blood smeared.
Sun shining on the horizon, body ready to begin rising,
once again I have appeared.
Caskets, condolences, and cobwebs, conditions where I reside,
an atmosphere where my thoughts continue to thrive.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

THE KILLING FEELING By Jasen Sousa

THE KILLING FEELING


Inside it builds, it builds.
Inside it kills, it kills.

Hurt we conceal
because no one else knows how it feels.
It covers our conscience and consumes us,
it destroys our dreams, it dooms us.

The outrage, the adrenalin, the anger,
the hate we feel for a total stranger.
Slanted eyebrows and clinched fists,
fighting until it no longer exists.

It never goes away, it only gets worse,
created to carry around this curse.
Love we wait for at home never arrives,
walking out the door, pain covers up
all which is pure.

We’re violated and abused,
the love we have to offer that the world refused.

Inside it builds, it builds.
Inside it kills, it kills.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

BLOOD COVERED WHITE COLORED DOVES By Jasen Sousa

BLOOD COVERED WHITE COLORED DOVES


The scene, so serene,
like a dream that wasn’t totally visible.
There I laid and there I stayed,
I watched while people prayed, intelligently invisible.
Stretched on a scaffold, rosary beads and a pen I hold,
warm hands touching this man, corpse compassionately cold.

To me it was clear, but to those who still required air,
not aware that I stare, still there, soul in the shadows lurking.
I like to tease, my buried breath makes people freeze,
plight of the planet I tried to please, it left me hopelessly hurting.
For those who are not certain, for those who have lost faith,
you do die, but like sleep, you are able to awake.

The sound of wind chimes as people stand in lines,
coming to see a mangled mind which they believe no longer operates.
I did not follow an angel playing the flute, I took another route,
a masterful mute who turned away from Heaven’s gate.
Becoming something hollow,
I will die and still live again to see tomorrow!

It has become dark, only able to hear the beating of my own heart,
proceeding in a procession towards my final resting place.
Put to rest with no one able to hear the heroic heart that beat inside my chest,
nothing left, except the stone statue standing in the cemetery that is now my face.
This world tends to drain everything a person loves,
when I died they let fly in the sky above, blood covered white colored doves.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

A SHOT HEARD AROUND THE WORLD By Jasen Sousa

A SHOT HEARD AROUND THE WORLD


It started with silence,
it ended in violence.

Family life was hell,
no one to tell.
Mother and father
always fighting, frightening.
It struck through his soul like lightning.

Stayed out late
because he didn’t want to hear it,
he no longer could bear it.
The pain was in his brain, you couldn’t see him wear it.

In school his situation didn’t improve,
his peers treated him rude,
awkward and geeky, he wasn’t too smooth.

Picked on by the jocks after school on his own block,
he was struck by rocks.

He knew there was only one way to make it stop...

No longer wanted to run,
kids were no longer going to have fun,
went on-line and ordered a gun.

Devised a master plan, no longer the subject of laughter,
imagining a gun in his hand,
to shoot and drop anything he saw stand.

Ready for morning,
no more mourning,
he dressed in cameo, pockets full of ammo.

BAM YO!!!

Ready aim… bang! Shots rang!
Who is to blame?
Schools, friends, families never the same.
Empty shells remain,
paving the path of young bodies slain.

Pistol in his pocket proudly, hallways cloudy, classrooms no longer rowdy.
A shot heard around the world,
meant to be heard LOUDLY.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

PRINCE OF DARKNESS By Jasen Sousa

PRINCE OF DARKNESS


Creature of the night, half-filled with death, half-filled with light.
Prepared to dedicate myself to the dark.
Passionate, possessed pen pulsates with plight,
for hundreds of years I have hidden my heart.
My future, to feast on those I have never forgiven,
the perfect combination of dirt and dust, undead and living.

The beast has awaken, an eternity forsaken,
my victims, I split them, on their souls, I slurp.
Nowhere to run, skin in the sun baking,
I never died, but chose to live under the earth.
Prince of darkness, a problem for the planet,
my followers are the abandoned and the stranded.

Back adorned with wings,
loyal subjects view me as a king, enemies as an evil force.
The ballad of a belligerent bat, a bevy of undead I bring,
each with a cremated cross and ashes centered on their corpses.
Prince of darkness, allergic to the process of rotting,
prince of darkness, easily and freely exits out of a coffin.

Blood must leak from your lips if you wish to forever exist,
if you wish to never be missed, a restless soul.
With a pen carved like a stake in my fist,
the fate of the world is in my control.
I swoop down eerily, you barely hear the sound,
prince of darkness, tombstone adorned with a crown.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

UNCOMFORTABLE SKIN By Jasen Sousa

UNCOMFORTABLE SKIN


It is stuck to my bones,
but it doesn’t seem to quite fit.
I would like to remove rotten pieces,
times flies as I sit and slice it.

Not as smooth as it used to be,
parts are scarred, the surface uneven.
I pick at wounds
until they start bleeding.

I stretch out my skin, dangling extremities.
I don’t think it has been stitched on properly.
A tailor has no remedies
for skin that hangs so sloppy.

We are not meant for each other,
what I think when I stare at my skin.
I will always resent my skin’s color,
born without the glow seen on other men.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

TORN THOUGHTS By Jasen Sousa

TORN THOUGHTS


My heart stops,
I mourn
my own loss
as I am
swarmed by cops.

Messages from the stars
and the forms they take in corn crops.

Gangsters adorned
with glocks, stores advertising porn
to young kids hanging on blocks.

A young kid crossing the street
doesn’t see the speeding car.
They lean on the horn,
brakes on the car lock.

In comes a storm without warning,
people stranded on rooftops.
Little hungry, horny girls
turned on by cocks.

Never saving enough money,
babies are born to floss.
My words staked
and burned on a cross.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

INVISIBLE INCISIONS By Jasen Sousa

INVISIBLE INCISIONS


When I take a knife,
hold it tight,
and proceed to slice my head,
I imagine it as being the same feeling
when Christ bled.

Staring myself down, listening to my heart pound,
but there is no sound when I make myself bleed.
Cutting, checking to see if I’m still alive,
a sensation I need.

From the hush, to the adrenalin rush,

to the blood

that gushed down the side of my face.
Not just shedding my blood,
but the blood of an entire race.

Moments before the murderous moment,
blinds shut to block light from the sun
so no one will see what I have done.
Blood covers my face, blood covers my body.
God! What have I become?

I am an only child, an only son,
I am the only one.
It’s lonely where I come from.

I think about that
before I create open wounds.
How could anybody possibly relate?
The need to feel alive, like no other pleasure, it consumes.

This is my addiction, my habit,
to take a knife to my skin and stab it

and let out all that is not pure…




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

SELF INFLICTED SUFFERING By Jasen Sousa

SELF INFLICTED SUFFERING


I starve myself
so I can hear my stomach growl.
Being comfortable, being content, being full,
is something I will never allow.

I slice sections of my skin
to understand pain.
I walk out of my house with my body covered in blood
waiting to be cleansed by rain.

Love cannot be a part of my life
if I write about broken hearts.
No imagination of a wife,
no dating, no dreaming, no hoping.

Self inflicted suffering,
I practice for the good of all humanity.
Think of it as my experiment
to see what causes insanity.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

JOHN DOUGH By Jasen Sousa

JOHN DOUGH


John Dough had seven kids
and never any extra cash.
He worked as a janitor at a seminary
and every morning he attended his own mass.

One of the nicest people you could ever meet,
yet few were aware.
The media brainwashed people into thinking
his image was one you should fear.

When he finally got home his children were so noisy,
he tried to think, but he couldn’t hear.
To drown out the sound he would sit on his back porch,
drink a beer, and release marijuana smoke into the air.
One morning on the way to work,
a delinquent gave John Dough a cold stare.

He dropped John Dough to his knees
by sticking a shank in his chest.
The man who stabbed John Dough
is a person the cops will never care to arrest.

John dough was brought to the hospital
where he was pronounced dead on arrival.

The sad thing is
no one will notice he has left.

John Dough lies in a morgue
with a tag on his toe.
This ended his existence
which the world never came to acknowledge or know.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

I CARRY MY OWN CASKET By Jasen Sousa

I CARRY MY OWN CASKET


I lift,
make sure I have a tight grip,
the casket is sealed tight
incase blood drips.

March in my own memorial,
towards the sky, my body slowly raising.
Housed inside
my air tight haven.

I carry my own casket
and determine the date of my own demise.
A closed casket so you will not be able to see
the estranged look in my eyes.

I carry my own casket,
decorate my own wake.
Died, and was able to hear
my own heart break.

I carry my own casket,
dig my own hole
and ride into Heaven on a long and lonely road.

I carry my own casket,
murder my own identity.
Torture tactically
my own worst enemy.

I carry my own casket
and seal the cover tight.
I carry my own casket,
I take my own life.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

THE LAND OF NEVER By Jasen Sousa

THE LAND OF NEVER


A shadow of a young boy
balances in the center of my mind.
Sitting on a rock outfitted with a cap
and holding a pen in his hand.

He sits without movement
contemplating life.

When he sits on that rock and writes
it is a step closer to almost forever.
However, the place he is located in now
is called the Land of Never.

Those who live in the Land of Never
possess hearts which don’t listen.
Those who live in the Land of Never
repeatedly give into addiction.

The Land of Never
is where people steal.
The land of never
is where you have sex,
but love is something you cannot feel.

The young boy was stuck
in the Land of Never,
that was until he encountered
his long lost deceased friend.

He took the young boy by the hand
and walked him across a bridge
with no running water underneath it,
just a crystal ball of memories they experienced as kids.

They walked passed dead flowers
and naked girls taking showers.

The young boy’s deceased friend explained
how he was forced to remain in the Land of Never,
as he was showing the young boy the way home.

All of a sudden the young boy’s soul
received a shocking sensation
as he regained his creative concentration,

and he was back sitting and writing on his rock.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

A WHIMSICAL WHISPER FROM A SILENT SCRIPTURE By Jasen Sousa

A WHIMSICAL WHISPER FROM A SILENT SCRIPTURE


You can hear what I write,
like you can hear day turn to night.
My words walk with the wind
and seep through slain souls of women and men.

This is a whimsical whisper
from a silent scripture.

Words written with wisdom
to ensure the world will listen.
Sometimes caring, sometimes violent voices,
take them with you wherever you travel, to help you win
your battle.

This is a whimsical whisper
from a silent scripture.

Just when you think the message is fading,
these words do not understand aging.
Not if they are buried or burned.
Hope is earned every time a page is turned.

This is a whimsical whisper
from a silent scripture.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

PLEADING FOR MY LIFE By Jasen Sousa

PLEADING FOR MY LIFE


My head is hidden in-between my legs,
on the floor, on my knees, I tremble in fear.
I hope the God’s show mercy on someone who begs.
I plead for my life, I am not ready to take my last breath of air.

I sacrificed my body, please do not take my soul,
let me live as a normal man.
I know my spirit is under your control,
I plead for my life, I hope you understand.

Discuss my fate amongst immortals who have ruled for decades,
do not take me unless I am needed desperately.
They might be the reason why I have yet to decay,
after a strong wind blows, let there be something left of me.

I have kept my blood pure for when it is time to extract,
I prepared for my departure each day and night.
When it is time to take my soul, please leave my spirit intact,
I stand here as a man and plead for my life.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

THE INTERNAL IDENTITY OF HIS IDENTICAL ENEMY By Jasen Sousa

THE INTERNAL IDENTITY OF HIS IDENTICAL ENEMY


Alan is 19-years-old.
A recent high school graduate,
and for the first time in his life
he has no where he has to go.

The friends he used to hang with have gone to college
to seek knowledge, Alan took a few classes, but a diploma
seemed too far away.

Alan feels like his old friends have abandoned him.
He searches for new friends that will respect him,
but he has to live a different lifestyle for them to accept him.

He searches relentlessly
for a style for his soul.

Alan’s description,
he’s got white skin, a slight grin,
and he acts like he is black.
He wears fake platinum chains and a backwards cap.

His image kept getting stronger,
but his spirit kept getting weaker.

Alan began hanging with new friends and new crews
and started to adapt their values and views.
His new friends are Irish,
which means his pants are less baggy.

His new friends were into drugs,
he now believed in getting high.
He put away his basketball sneakers,
now he rocks low tops with no socks.
Went from being a jock to being a delinquent
who loved messing with cops.

He wears a scaly cap
and a shamrock tee-shirt for good luck.
Adapted a mentality,
“I just don’t give a fuck.”

His mom gives him an allowance,
but he never has anything to show for it,
drugs are bought with every buck.

She used to hear gangsta rap from his room,
now she hears Sinatra and The Beatles.
She has heard he has been smoking weed and popping pills,
and she prays that he’s not messing with needles.

Alan used to spend his time
shooting baskets on the court,
now he hangs with kids
who smoke, sniff, shoot, and snort.
He has a great mind,
a mind drugs will eventually distort.
He used to hold the world in his hands,
now he just holds a Newport.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

I WONDER IF A HEART BEATS IN HEAVEN? By Jasen Sousa

I WONDER IF A HEART BEATS IN HEAVEN?


Stray bullet,

look at the little girl
who has to spend the rest of her life in a wheelchair,
watching her friends frolic at the playground,
can you imagine how it feels there?

The target,

the owner of a store fired upon
by someone stealing a beer.
Store becomes a memorial,
everyday his family goes to kneel there.

The thief

is still out there,
but they will never reveal where.
Hiding inside a community
where they continue to steal air.
Put to rest by

a stranger’s weapon,

I wonder if a heart beats in Heaven?




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

CARRY ME AWAY (show me how to fly) By Jasen Sousa

CARRY ME AWAY
(show me how to fly)

I Look towards the sky,
a raindrop falls from the heavens into my eye.

I look for answers, but see none in sight,
I look past clouds with all my might.

My existence, like that feeling when you are half-awake and half-asleep,
I can’t focus enough to notice if my heart continues to beat.

I beg you, extract my soul from my body before it’s too late!
Bring me to your kingdom and let me live inside your gates.

Torture my thoughts no longer! Let me think freely!
When I arrive, please send someone who is happy to see me.

I wake up everyday and feel like I have died again,
death is evident, the only question is, when?

There is only so long a person can believe,
blood from another cut continues to bleed.

I hope you have heard my wishes,
all I know how to do is preserve my life with poems and pictures.

Reach your hands down from the sky,
carry me away, show me how to fly.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

LITTLE RED RIDING FOR HIS HOOD By Jasen Sousa

LITTLE RED RIDING FOR HIS HOOD


This is my introduction
for all those who don’t know me,
I’m the little cousin
of the infamous Monster Cody.

My name is Little Red and I run with the Bloods,
I joined them when I was 12.
I can’t explain the power I feel
when a gun is held.

My mom is a good lady,
but she sleeps most of the day.
I am taken care of by older kids on the block,
they are the ones who teach.
My dad is cool too,
but he’s been in jail since I was five.
Now, I’m 16, bet you didn’t think I would still be alive!

The Bloods showed me how to survive,
they beat me down
until my body was badly bruised.

The way a loving family is supposed to act,
I have always been confused.
My first task was to steal
a pair of Michael Jordan shoes.

The kid wouldn’t give them up,
I had to kill him! Hey, at least I made the evening news.
It reported that a 12-year-old boy was slain
over a pair of sneakers
with a fancy name.
From this action
I gained much fame,
I got more authority in my gang.
Never got caught, no harm, no shame.

I continued to get colder,
I mean we are in a war
and I just wanted to be the ultimate solider.
I became skilled at killing,
a master at eliminating
our most hated villains.
One day I got in a car
and sprayed rival gangsters
who were surrounded by women and children.

My name is tagged throughout my turf
on basketball courts.
I even raped
without remorse.
Soul gone,
now just a corpse.

Any fool who walks
too close to my block,
I leave them
outlined in chalk.
Let out
shots from my glock,
anyone will die
when my bullets fly through the air like a hawk.

I represent red,
every other color is my prey.
There is no one in the world
who I am not willing to slay.
Anyone, anytime,
any day.

For free or for pay,
if you come through my hood
you better pray
to whatever God
you believe in.
If you come through late at night
don’t plan on leaving.

When I step
onto the street,
I always have Chuck Taylor’s
on my feet,
a red bandanna tied around my head,
inside my jeans I pack heat.

I’m violent,
I’m a tyrant,
I decide when the streets are loud
and when the streets are silent.

I’m Little Red,
I just want to make that understood.
Until the day I die,
I will ride for my hood.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

A HOMELESS HUMAN AND A HOMELESS HOUND By Jasen Sousa

A HOMELESS HUMAN AND A HOMELESS HOUND


They sit side by side,
drool drips off their faces and splashes onto the ground.
They sit with their eyes open painfully wide,
a homeless man and his homeless hound.

They look like they haven’t eaten for weeks,
get close enough and you can hear their stomachs growling.
Hair covers their cheeks,
one was asking politely for money, the other was howling.

The dog wags its tail and the man waves his hand,
hoping to catch the attention of someone strolling by.
Someone has to know how they are feeling, someone has to understand,
no one has made eye contact, they both sigh.

This is their daily routine,
you have to wonder what keeps pushing them to find ways to survive.
Their corner is located in front of a church across from a manhole cover that spews steam.
The rest of the world never notices they are alive.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

HOW MUCH LONGER CAN I LAST? By Jasen Sousa

HOW MUCH LONGER CAN I LAST?


My vital signs are plunging, my energy is dwindling drastically.
I can never stop running, there is always someone after me.
Checking for my heartbeat, no detection,
is this the time there will be no resurrection?
My body deteriorating, about to collapse,
how much longer can I last before I become part of the past?

How much longer can I endure?
Slowly being taken out of my possession, everything which is pure.
My good heart dissolves inside of a wicked world that keeps revolving,
how much longer can I keep getting up, how much longer can I keep falling?
The creator wants my corpse,
softly inside my mind, I hear him calling.

All I dreamt to be,
all in this life that was meant for me.
Trying to accomplish my goals
before I look up and see them throwing dirt in my hole.
I may not get a chance to grow old in age,
but I grow every time I print on the page.
Begging for the answer to the most important question I could ask,
how much longer can I last?




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

KELLY’S SECOND BORN By Jasen Sousa

KELLY’S SECOND BORN


Kelly, the girl
who has come close to permanently losing her mind
is pregnant for a second time.

For Kelly to bring another kid into the world,
you would have to say she is insane.
Although her doctor says she is,
I don’t think she is.
Her spirit and her soul are suicidal,
life is only felt when she is bearing new kids.

When all you feel is death,
having a baby growing inside your belly is the ultimate fix.
Kelly’s heart stopped beating a long time ago,
reminded she is alive when she feels the baby kick.

Kelly was broke for a long duration
and had a hard time getting her street medication,
of course the father of her new baby is a dealer.
Would give her drugs for free
as long as he was allowed to feel her.

Bodies full of toxin,
organs that barely function.
Not the ideal place
for healthy reproduction.

Reality.
A child born from a parent who abuses drugs
is likely to be born with significant abnormalities.
Before they take their first breath,
already casualties.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

THE BLADE OF MY PEN By Jasen Sousa

THE BLADE OF MY PEN


My captivating characters cut through your conscience,
slicing through skin that cloaks vicious vice.
Deliberately decapitating all of your nonsense,
perfectly cut incisions my pen makes sure are precise.

I hold the blade of my pen in the palm of my hand,
ready to strike with all my might, the wicked way I write.
I begin humming and summon my blade on command,
cutting through darkness, leaving you heartless, bleeding light.

The blade of my pen has murdered many monsters since exposed,
it conquers evil as rays from the sun shine on me in victory.
The blood from my blade drips, suspended in time it froze,
the blade of my pen and its devastating delivery puts you out of your misery.

Tucked tightly under my skin’s sleeve is my pen.
I lead a parade to the grave of people who are labeled, “What might have been.”
Stomping straight into the Devil’s den
with the blade of my pen, I serenade the souls of men.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

STOLEN CHILDREN By Jasen Sousa

STOLEN CHILDREN


Our children have been abducted by the streets,
their souls influenced
by TV, video games, lyrics and beats.

Single parent households do not offer enough
voices to educate the mind,
babies are being made and lost
one child at a time.

They walk out the front door
and get a street education
on drugs, guns and molestation.

They pick up guns because society shows
it looks like fun.
No one tells a mother how to sleep peacefully
after losing her only son.

Drugs come in through the nose, lungs and veins.
Crime, suicide, murder, look how it’s effecting our brains!

We use weed as teens,
become crack fiends in our 20’s.
At 30 we’re heroine addicts
and it’s too late to break these types of habits.

Bullets fly, people die, no imagination.
The goal, to cause great devastation.
Kids can only stay away for so long before they get sucked in,
and before you know it, a mother’s only son is not in his bed,
but in the ground being tucked in.

Asleep in a casket,
mother pays off a friend
to get revenge on the murderous bastard.

Nothing left sacred, heads drowning in hatred,
images to kill.
Time stands still, we murder for thrill.
No dreams, no future, no destiny to fulfill.

Blood continues to spill,
poisoned by pictures painted by brainwashed artists.

Stranded, and there doesn’t appear to be a way home.
Mom’s smoking a bone and daddy’s having sex
with a stranger on the phone.

In the back room mom has two male guests
and they’re both getting blown today.
Her son sees it, he’s pissed, someone’s getting blown away.
Telling us to be gangsters in messages that are subliminal.
We might end up being thieves, but society is the biggest criminal.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

A BREATH OF LIFE By Jasen Sousa

A BREATH OF LIFE

Death howls through night.
When you think your time might be near,
inhale a breath of my life.

Life circulates through my lungs,
immortality flows and rejuvenates all
it is blown upon. No one quite knows
where a person goes once they are dead and gone.

The air I breathe, the blood I bleed.
The selfishness of my soul, the greatness of my greed,
to breathe life into all that decays before I pass.

Place your lips on mine and inhale, feel life.

Don’t cry if you wish to die, it doesn’t have to be like this.
There is a place for you in this world, finding it takes time.
Imagine, waking up every morning and knowing why you exist,
peace in your mind.

I will not allow myself to die and have that be the end.

For my entire life I have persistently and passionately pled,
prolonging existence with my pen.
Words that will never be said,

Jasen Sousa is dead.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

WORDS WALK WITH THE WIND By Jasen Sousa

WORDS WALK WITH THE WIND


Words walk with the wind,
written from souls of men whose lives have come to an end.
A language of lyrics that luminous lives lend,
written for us to read, words to heed, so our minds can ascend.

Feel fear and misfortune gallop in gusts of air,
those who are no longer here plead for us to hear!
We stare, but do not see what is forecasted in front of our faces.
We are blind, we mislead our minds, we simply do not care.

From souls which have been slain, the lyrics are clearly conveyed.
Pay close attention to the message the misguided have to mention,
howling horribly, screams from demons of destroyed dreams
as these sentences sit on air in suspension.

The blowing bold script is written to uplift,
it searches for a wandering soul pondering their potential as a person.
A creative calligraphy, words that walk with wind
can blow through you, leave you hurting.

Walk with the wind and be wise to its words
that fly freely through air like birds with wondrous wings.
The beauty they bring,
sometimes it speaks softly, sometimes it loudly sings.

Let this wind blow you in perfection’s direction.
Do not wander away from wise words that walk with the wind,
they will blow you to uncharted territory and guide you to glory,
failing to listen will bring you back to painful places you have already been.

Let these words that walk with the wind find you
as the wind blows behind you,
it’s time to let these sentences shine through and remind you.
If you are confused about your meaning, words that walk with the wind blow to define you.




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©
 
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