stories

A Trash Eating Seagull Crossed My Path

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By Lucas Herrera

He looked back and squawked a lot

Then he told me he missed it here

And the only time he ever felt like a person

Was when he was near

I tried to understand

It was hard

The sharp air and aggressive cars

The diamonds scattered across the road

But in this world nobody wants them

The trash-eating seagull took flight

I was left alone here

I went to see for him I saw him up there

Where will the harsh wind take him

And what will he encounter when he gets to it

He was sad to go

But before he left I could tell he tried to smile

A twitch showed on his yellow beak

Then a tear rolled town his cheek

I hope he finds out what went wrong

He squawks and squawks, always the same song

A trash-eating seagull crossed my path

A Trash Eating Seagull Crossed My Path

Just Like Everybody Else

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By Lucas Herrera

The clock is stopped

Now the scene is laid ruin

I stumble to find my machine, then wander home

I notice the faces of the people on the street

And they appear so happy

But its not long till the vibrant colors fade

And the expressions on the faces are nothing but grey

But i wander alone

Irritated

I work till my nubs are raw

And I’m still segregated

From the peace of mind

Only a sane man can find

His life is beautiful his home is sound

On the other side of town

I can’t stop recalling these blood soaked memories of 17

Locked in to a concrete hole with a stitch, to sooth my itch

From busting at the seams

from evaporating into steam

while i drench myself in soapy water

trying to get these fucking plates

clean

While stress dreams and insecurities wreck my self esteem

I have a home

But, it is on on the other side of town

And when i would good off late at night

Id sit in the moonlight

And remark on the grand sight

And wished it were this lovely on  the other side of town.

Those long nights id peer out to see the guests

Enjoying themselves and indulging in only the best

I wish i could be out there with them

Instead of this

day to day

constantly afraid

waiting

for it to finally hit

for someone shouting from the window of

a 90s hooptie

with the windows tinted by panic

and the birds singing

there will be an explosion

afterwords i will lie there dead

Like some white man once said

“When the south side sneezes,

The north get a cold”

What does he hope to achieve with a sentence so bold

Almost as to be told

To know how normal

How normal it is

Instead of doing something about it

The snow is fierce

Here

It smacks my window

And makes me shiver

Occumpanied by this red light

That tends to flicker

Its the only thing keeping the dark night at bay

Its the only thing keeping me awake enough, to even have

words to say

Breath in fresh air

Please i want to stay

Still you try to teach me to believe

Its not on-purpose

your obvious scheme

like we did this to ourselves

its hard to survive on 7.25

working at some far out

Brooklyn park

Wal-Mart

And he always did it somehow

BUT WE ARE TO BLAME?

When you put the substances into our reach

You’re the origin of every disease

I will hold it in today

And i probably wont do anything about it

Ill get high all day while civilizations crumble

And not care for the factory bound children, all by

themselves

Just like everyone else

Just Like Everybody Else

BLACK LIVES MATTER

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By Lucas Herrera

It’s the day of Sabbath and a man lies dead on the North Minneapolis concrete.

100s took the street in awe of the display that broke through a

buzzing highway and all chanted in sigh to lament the rest of this poor man

which they said was angry

“They should know better!”

What did you expect you up tight self-righteous white trooper who came down cause you probably knew the best way to handle them

The police take advantage of the shattered and broken glass and pick the pieces up and throw them in the recycling

What of brother Jamar shot down on the street like a vagrant?

You lodged a bullet packed with freedom through his brain and prolonged the end  of his life in an inferno of hope that consumed half the city

While the whole block stopped and watched

When, where then the children watching, realizing they have another reason to stay home

I remember Plymouth Ave North Minneapolis

I took it home each night on my two wheels mounted by dread and saw

A glistening starlight of frost coat the winding street

That’s where the diamonds nobody wanted cover everything

There were 51 of them who spent the night in prison

I hope Lora is okay

Thank you, so far, Mayor Hodges

But you broke out the zip ties and I wonder why you treat us this way

You had the hoses and dogs queued up for what some pig did

And you

The nerve to say you stand behind the movement

When all you really want to do is get home

You can wait 2 hours for now going 500 years

You can wait 2 hours for 76,759 killed in the Syria conflict

11 thou of them children

You would wait 2 hours for the 126 dead in Paris

But the only thing I can’t make apparent is when the 776 people killed here in your homeland don’t merit a wait list. But you’re behind it?

The blood soaks this wretched soil now turned sour

The tears of agony from the mothers of those young men howl through the city like A demon chasing light for its own compelling

There’s no street vigil that can throw fire against the cold northern rain

You don’t give a shit about them

There is no justice

There’s no consolation

You take and take

And rake in every bit of our change and wait making light of this awful game

Freedom of speech

Freedom of speech

Freedom of fucking speech

BLACK LIVES MATTER

That Old Feeling By: Lucas Herrera

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my loves belong on both coasts
and i visit sometimes but none
of me is left there
im landlocked and blue
and always dancing
cause the music is in my head
and it never stops playing
it fills the empty space within me
before me
all the more interesting
i feel those eyes and i start glowing
all wrapped up and dusty
as drunk as a poet on pay day
those moments when you know theres no going back
and the people behind windows shuffling, singing
w/o me
my tears sync with the breaths of Williamsburg as i skip away from everything
where, two true blue lenses capture my presence found there
and yet unknown
will never be the same cause
with every rain fall comes a change

That Old Feeling By: Lucas Herrera

How To Create With a Busy Schedule

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Being a creative person is not an easy feat. We all started out on the creative process because we enjoy creating as a means of free expression. This leads us to try to turn our pursuits into a career. Yet in the meantime we all have bills to pay, jobs to go to, errands to run.

There are tons of resources on the web about increasing productivity. We can manage our time better and avoid procrastination. But being creative isn’t like running errands or taking care of tasks. Creating requires all those organizational skills plus the inspiration to make something new. You have to be ready to take advantage of inspiration, and be organized enough to follow through with projects.

The paradox of creation is that it comes from both within and without. No creation happens without outside influence. It’s the background or context of a work that gives it meaning. Yet to create a person must synthesize this context into a new creation. The context reaches a critical point where everything clicks in a moment of inspiration.

You can’t predict when inspiration will occur. The trick is to be prepared. When you get home after a fourteen-hour day, and by all logic you should be exhausted, but you get an idea that’s burning to be expressed. Then you reach for your guitar but you’re missing a string. So instead you watch TV and fall asleep.

When you lead a busy life, you don’t have the luxury of taking your time with inspiration. It is fleeting and urgent. That’s why one of my prime tips of creating is to always be prepared for inspiration. Not just in terms of being organized, either. It’s a mental preparation to be poised to grasp the moment of inspiration.

The memo app on your phone is your best friend. When you’re out with your friends you might get a great idea – save it there for later. You figure out the last lyric to a song at 4:20 A.M.- don’t wait! Finish the song right at that moment. Inspiration DOES NOT wait!

Creative works don’t always happen in a flash of inspiration, however. Sometimes the only way to complete a project is with a grind. Maybe you’re a musician who needs to lay down backing tracks. Or a writer who needs to flesh out a piece after proofreading. Or an artist who needs to fill in a tedious, detailed pattern.

Once again, the answer is organization. When you’re always busy, you can’t wait around to get to it later. Busy people MAKE time for what they care about. Creators need to create and will be unhappy if they don’t. Don’t be unhappy. Set aside time to finish and organize your old projects just like you would set aside time to go to work.

Creators must create, it is in our nature. If you are stressed out from a busy life, channel it for inspiration. Then be ready to grab it by the horns when it comes.

 

Much love,

Eliott – founder

How To Create With a Busy Schedule