The Events Following

So, immediately after I exploded
and wrote the previous post (control+v has never been so fulfilling),
I...

1. 2:52 - Proceeded to exit my dorm and began to run, probably a 7:30 pace or so, given the extra energy from my frustration
2. 3:15 - (approx) Arrived at the music building (I ran in spasmodic patterns across the horseshoe and such for the majority of the time, yelling various obscenities and such)
3. 3:16 - discovered that the opera room was open, proceeded to play the BEST RECITAL OF MY LIFE FOR NOBODY with my jury pieces.
4. 3:35 - Left said music building, walked in a straight line along the middle of College street until I reached the Horseshoe (I made a Ryder truck stop at a green light, and got flipped off).
5. 3:50 - Walked through 4 sprinklers without flinching
6. 4:00 - Arrived at my apartment, and have never felt more like a man.

My name is Joseph Harold Montoya.
I am a sinful man of unclean hands and unclean lips.
Jesus Christ, the perfect son of the living God, creator of the universe and foundation of the word, is the only hope I have in this universe, and I am his
and only his forever.
Amen

The events following

So, immediately after I exploded
and wrote the previous post (control+v has never been so fulfilling),
I...

1. 2:52 - Proceeded to exit my dorm and began to run, probably a 7:30 pace or so, given the extra energy from my frustration
2. 3:15 - (approx) Arrived at the music building (I ran in spasmodic patterns across the horseshoe and such for the majority of the time, yelling various obscenities and such)
3. 3:16 - discovered that the opera room was open, proceeded to play the BEST RECITAL OF MY LIFE FOR NOBODY with my jury pieces.
4. 3:35 - Left said music building, walked in a straight line along the middle of College street until I reached the Horseshoe (I made a Ryder truck stop at a green light, and got flipped off).
5. 3:50 - Walked through 4 sprinklers without flinching
6. 4:00 - Arrived at my apartment, and have never felt more like a man.

My name is Joseph Harold Montoya.
I am a sinful man of unclean hands and unclean lips.
Jesus Christ, the perfect son of the living God, creator of the universe and foundation of the word, is the only hope I have in this universe, and I am his
and only his forever.
Amen

Hymn

To God be the glory for song and verse,
for portraiture and dance.
In Him, rejoice for human thought,
in awe of blessed wisdom wrought.

Glory to the Lord of hosts!
For fear of Him,
For gentleness and human passion,
And thanks and honor be to him
whose tender care be like a hammer
to the ones he loves.

Life of Clay

Wetness between thick fingers
is joy for makers;
The wheel, and craft,
a song of hands
immersed in virgin matter,
where water is the soft
and tender lyric
between shaping palm
and substance.

They dance;
she coyly twirls around, around,
while fingers move
with care and mastery,
discrete stripes' motion,
up and down, and down and up again,
within the gentle light harmonic.

What irony
that such delicately
firm, precise, deliberately
perfect motion,
that leads amorphous
into realms of hardened rapture,
should terminate with
immutable, whose only freedom
come in fracture.

Misogyny

Hatred, rage, and envy mixed
in monolithic states of mind.
Torment and adrenaline in wakes
of darker thoughts of violent recompense.

Cruelty, dealing lust
are foci of this black and red
ellipse, as a map of howling
vengeance awakens in fiery indignation.

There is no salve for such
a bold temptation, indulgence
or suppression, and suppression
until wretching death clamps down
on this fundamental of my inner-self.

O weakening walls, without whom I might
die and rise from ashes at the dawn,
dissolve and let my furious wrath
be entrenched among the faults of my oppressor.
With waking eyes and raging psyche,
This once-exinguished torch struck
ablaze anew by lightning!
I feel again, again! O Youth!
O fiery life! Ignited in these realms of birth!
Vindictive passion reawakened!

And a following perhaps peace,
among the residued-expulsions
of a manifested dark desire.

Among Drifters

How -
So cold...
and whe-
I?
There is...
I cannot move.

She...

Confession in Syllables

I watch from some
out-of-sight place
and seek some why
to end my love
with hate.

I should have known,
I did not need to seek it,
for it is in me now,
and has been
from the dawn of time.

I do not want it now,
but I fear I will be torn
to be rid of it.

Self-Portrait in Various Inorganics

Lithium and Lead,
My life, of lithium and lead.

My eyes,
shards of
volcanic glass.

My mind of misted quartz,
with iron, nickel, cobalt blue,

My soul, of oxygen.