What it Means to Have a Voice

I just want to start this post with a reflection. To the best of human knowledge, we are the only beings able to create true art. A lot of that art is manual-- Painting, sculpting, building-- But a good share of it is verbal: Singing, poetry, things like that. We have a very unique gift when it comes to having a voice. Human speech is the most diverse and complex method of communication known to man. You are in possession of the most beautifully complicated sound-maker on Earth. Isn't that something?


I have a lot of different influences when it comes to my writing. Some of it is inspired by rap lyricism, some of it by the books I read, and some of it from rock lyrics. My biggest inspiration, though, comes from other poets; One in particular is a man named Anis Mojgani. Anis has a voice, and he uses it powerfully and beautifully.

That is his most popular poem, "Shake the Dust".  I highly recommend his work, including this poem and another titled "For Those who Can Still Ride an Airplane for the First Time".


Everyone who has a voice is capable of doing amazing things with it. For me, my writing and my speaking go hand in hand. To me, they're the same art, because I not only write poetry, I speak it publicly as well. In fact, I believe that reading a piece in text and hearing a piece spoken are two completely different experiences.


As I was reflecting upon these truths in a church one morning (Yes, I know, I should have been paying attention), I began to scribble down a little something on the bulletin. This piece is what it became.

I Have a Voice

I have a voice. It’s not deep and imposing, like James Earl Jones. It's not terribly charismatic like David Letterman. It can carry a tune… well enough. Sometimes it cracks, or even gets lost, but it’s my own, and I use it.

I have a voice. I use it to laugh and cry, to scream and shout… Trust me, I can let it out, my fire within and my strength without. My writing helps me do that, like a key unlocking all of the pathos so I can speak my mind. Sometimes, though… Sometimes my voice gets me into binds. Sometimes, my voice doesn’t obey; it crosses its arms and rolls its eyes and looks away. Sometimes my voice just won’t come, won't answer. But sometimes, my voice knows it needs to be heard.

I have a voice, and these days I’m getting really good at using it. I have friends with their own voices, and I know I have something worth saying. I know that some people don’t have a voice, but still need to be heard.
The German Exchange boy, greeted every day by a high school full of jeering salutes with extended arms, like cannons from a battleship.
The girl with shaking hands and scarred wrists, retreating to rehab for the third time.
The old man stricken by thugs and muggers on his way to visit his wife’s grave.
Too many of us that have voices lay complacent, forgetting the thousands who lay hoarse and exhausted, unable to speak. We have voices, and we do a grave injustice not to use them.

I have a voice, and I will stand up in front of microphones and behind podiums, on stages, on street corners, in basements and in restaurants, and I will speak. I will NOT speak to the corrupted suits, I will NOT speak to the insurance companies, I will NOT speak to the cynical and the apathetic.

I have a voice, and I will speak to the writers and the musicians, to the speakers and to the poets. I will speak to the citizens, the civilians and the foreigners. I will speak to you, and I pray that you will listen,
Because, God damn it, I have a voice! And the only crime I am unwilling to commit for my cause is silence.

I have often been called out on being a pretentious speaker, or on being a know-it-all, and maybe (read: quite possibly) I am, and I apologize sincerely for that, but these are things that are obvious, that are great, that are important. To me, a voice is a terrible thing to waste. If you have a voice and a set of beliefs but passively and idly sit by as the changes you don't want happen, you're doing your voice, your beliefs, and yourself a terrible act of disrespect.

If you like my writing, you can like Speaking with Storms on Facebook or follow me on Twitter.

Thank you for reading.

The Dog Days Aren't Over Yet

I've been getting into the local (Twin Cities) art and music scene a lot lately. I've found myself continually wanting to go into the cities. The suburbs have been driving me crazy lately. They have no personality, they have no realism. They're just one house after another after another, and they don't have any soul to them anymore.

Seriously, does this look exciting to you?

I know that an apartment in the cities would hardly be any different from that, but the difference is that I'd be able to go out and get a taste of those intangible things I love: Music, art, people, personality.

However, first I need a job. I have applied at everywhere (literally everywhere. I honestly wish I was exaggerating.) within biking/walking distance, and to many places outside of that radius. I can't pay for all of my classes without a job, so among the other obvious reasons I should get one, it's more important now than ever. If anyone has any ideas/suggestions, maybe leave it in the comments or tweet it to me or post it on the blog's Facebook page.

I wrote this piece a while ago when I was contemplating my discomfort in the suburbs.

Sorry, Suburbs

Sorry, Suburbs, we've had a good run
But it's just not working out.
I've decided I need to pack up and leave.
You're just not the same neighborhood I fell in love with.

When I was a kid, I would go exploring in my back yard,
A field of endless towers of corn
And I would break the stalks, rip off the ears
And fashion myself a Samurai's sword
To wield in gallant, epic battles against invisible assailants.

I remember finding magazines I was much too young for
In a creek half a mile away.
I remember saying out loud to myself,
"Why would anyone publish something like this?"

I rode my bicycle to No-Name Park
Dug my feet deep into the sand
And felt the heat between my toes.

Now, for me, there's too much past here, and not enough future
And conformity is on me like a downtown moocher.

Each building lies in a perfect little row, sprouting up as though sown from the seeds of real estate
And being farmed by agents with perfect Colgate Total smiles, alabaster teeth shining
Like the houses they show off.

Each of those model homes flowers into a husband and a wife,
And two children (an older sister and a younger brother)
And a small, yipping dog, and a minivan, AND a Prius,
And an above-ground pool, and a wooden deck, and...
Slow down, Smiths.
Why are you always jonesin' to keep up?

No-Name Park has had a generic title forced upon it,
The creek has dried up with barren, dusty rocks biting at the shore,
And the field has been trampled underfoot by the "New Development".

From the roof, I see lawns freshly mowed,
Windows spritzed into a perfect sheen,
Two garage doors like blind eyes staring me down.
I see this pseudo-perfection and taste bile in the back of my throat.
This assembly line of American Dreams is putting me to sleep.

The Dog Days aren't over yet, despite what Florence says. I'm still trying to get a job, trying to keep the suburbs from getting to me too bad, and trying to keep my chin up.

If you like my writing, you can like Speaking with Storms on Facebook or follow me on Twitter.

Thank you for reading.

This Can Only Be A Good Thing

So, my laptop's hard drive crashed. In fact, the only reason I'm able to type this post is because I am being lent a laptop by a family member. So, what this means is, while I will try and continue updating at least twice a week, I will probably do it at strange times.

Despite the fact that all of my three-plus years of schoolwork, music collections, and writing are all lost, this can only be a good thing. I have a chance to catch up on reading, write even more, exercise more, and other things.

My writing isn't completely lost, either between this blog and my posts on the Random Receipts Facebook group page. Of twenty-eight spoken word poems, I will probably be able to restore about 20 of them. The other 8 were probably not good enough to share. Hahah! So, tomorrow, the quest to rebuild my collection begins! And with my music, I will most likely be able to simply plug my Zune's USB cord into another laptop and save it from my Zune. Problems (mostly) solved! So, I'm just looking on the bright side of things. As Thich Nhat Hanh once wrote,

"Sometimes your joy is the source of your smile, but sometimes your smile can be the source of your joy."



So I'm keeping a smile on. I try to think of it this way: Even if I have a neutral expression on my face, I don't get the positive energies that a simple smile can grant. If I have that smile, I'll begin to feel better regardless! That's something that some groups of Buddhists call "Smile Meditation". Meditation in the traditional sense takes place when you're sitting and breathing, fully aware. Smile meditation takes place no matter what. Living in the present moment, remembering to smile in every situation can be remarkable in the way it helps to improve moods.

Another reason I have to smile is right on the right-hand side of the page-- The view counter is almost at 3000! I want to thank you all for joining me in my angst, in my celebrations, in my pretentious ranting, in my giddy explosions of joy and in my melancholy reflections! I started this blog back in November 2010 and I am humbled to see the way it's grown. Genuinely, thank you all.

If you like what you've read, you can like Speaking with Storms on Facebook or follow me on Twitter.

Thanks for reading!

Interview 1: Jerem-why

I've started to meet some really interesting people doing my own creative work, so for my own sake I wanted to ask them a few questions about what they do. The answers I got back were really interesting, so I think I'll share them with you. Today, you will learn a little bit about my good friend Jeremy, who is a spoken-word artist like myself.

-Jeremy, how did you get involved doing creative work in the first place?
"I would have to say that I got involved in doing creative work when I met Fidelis, Josh, and Natan [other members of the group] and we started jamming out in the piano rooms at school just freestyling. I used to write a lot when I was 18/19 but not until 4 or 5 months ago did I really start to dive into writing from the depths of me."

-So far, what has been your best memory doing creative work?
"I would have to say that the best memory I have doing creative work would have to be the joy and elation of sharing my piece "My Brother" with Fidelis face to face just after I had written it. There was an immense creative energy between us that I felt upon reading that to him."

 -What piece that you've written do you feel best expresses you?
"To be honest, even though it was written while I was withdrawing from Nicotine, I would have to say it is my piece "Dear Non-smoking Friends" because before I wrote that piece I had never been so honest in my writings...ever."

-What has been your biggest influence in writing?
"My biggest influence in my writings have been [the other members of] Random Receipts. Each and every person involved with the group has inspired me in ways I cannot explain with mere words. But most definitely the sharing of creativity between all of us is what inspires my writings most." 

-Do you have any advice for people who want to get into the creative scene?
"My advice for people who want to get into the creative scene is to stop trying to get into the creative scene. You are already a creative being who creates every moment of every day which means you are already in the creative scene-- you just don't realize it yet. Try and find wonderful people who's ego's aren't too inflated, try and find genuine people who are accepting of others works and share with them everything you've ever written even if you're scared shitless to do so. Either that, or, come hang out with Random Receipts!"  

-A quote that inspires you?

"The answer is never the answer. What's really interesting is the mystery. If you seek the mystery instead of the answer, you'll always be seeking. I've never seen anybody really find the answer. They think they have, so they stop thinking. But the job is to seek mystery, evoke mystery, plant a garden in which strange plants grow and mysteries bloom. The need for mystery is greater than the need for an answer."

-Ken Kesey

The reason this quote inspires me is because it reminds me of the Dao.


Creativity is flowing through my veins, step to me and you'll get love filled words 
that will destroy your ego more quickly than clinched fists will damage your physical body, 
consider me something similar to godly the way I create something out of nothing, 
so I ask you...to the plate, what is it that you bring? Do you draw, paint, sing? 
What is it that you have to offer the world around you? 
I ASK YOU, what is it that you do? 
You must answer this question before I allow you into my temple because my inner realms are sacred, 
there's only room for love, not hatred. 
I'm not down with fake shit or a quick fix, I'm not here to listen to your clever words the way you play tricks, I'm in the moment so consider me present, 
if you're searching for a guru I have nothing to share with you, no life lessons, 
I'm over the endless nights of self created stresses, 
I have left anxiety begging me for more but you should've seen how quickly I shut that door. 
Goodnight to the fear of night and good morning to the love of day, where sun filled skies, and the chatter amongst birds guide me along my path and show me the Way.

--Jeremy Kemp 


I had a lot of fun contemplating Jeremy's answers. He has a lot of insight into the world around him, and he oftentimes isn't afraid to share what he's thinking. 

If you like what you've read, you can like Speaking with Storms on Facebook or follow me on Twitter.
Thanks for reading! 

Creativity in the Twin Cities

Sorry, readers, it's been a while since my last post. I've been downtown, doing creative things with creative people.

Last Thursday, the 7th, I went to downtown St. Paul with a few friends. We all are part of a collective called Random Receipts, with the purpose of fostering creativity with a light emphasis on music and spoken-word poetry. Around St. Paul are scattered pianos, painted and sheltered from the weather, in tune and everything, free for the public to play. So, naturally, a group of creative souls such as ourselves couldn't resist. We found a piano in front of a music college, and just began creating. I myself elaborated on a piece I had written earlier, played my friend's djembe, and plunked out a few melodies on the piano.

Fidelis on Piano and myself on Djembe

There was a young  girl, about 13 or 14, there with her younger brother, and she was listening very attentively to what we were performing. Eventually, we asked her to do something with us. After a lot of coercing and friendly encouragement, she sang something for us... And it blew us all away. The girl had talent, there was no doubt of that, but what really astounded me was her willingness to walk up to a group of older guys and perform something herself. This girl was ballsier than any of us there.

Then, just yesterday, we went back to downtown St. Paul to a small deli near the farmer's market. There, we performed spoken word, hip-hop, classical, and foreign music with a slight rock vibe to a fairly good sized audience. It was the first time I had done something like that, and the crowd (as well as my fellow members) were all very supportive. I met a lot of very cool people and my family and a few friends were able to see exactly what it is I do. That, I think, was the main reason I wanted to go so badly.

Left to Right: my brothers Fidelis, Joe, Jeremy, and myself

I wrote the following piece while I was at the deli waiting for others to show up-- I was the first to arrive, so I opened up my notebook, found my favorite pen and just freewrote to pass the time. I was somewhat surprised with how organized it turned out.

Black Coffee

 "No, I'm waiting for a few friends, don't mind me.
Well, maybe some coffee, black as midnight and bitter as my ex.
I do need to wake up. Don't we all?
Sure, I got up in the morning. I got up.
But I'm not awake.

I'm sorry, Miss, say that again?
Oh, no, I'm not from around here.
But, say, this coffee's not bad."

I carried this smalltalk on for another hour,
waiting for my own Godot to show up.

These days, if I have any money, I waste it.
If I have any time, I waste it.
If I have any energy, I waste it.
But, say, this coffee's not bad.
Maybe it's time to wake up.

The Twin Cities area has a very unique art scene, so I'm very happy to be so close to such a diverse movement. The best thing about the feel of the area is that it's all very supportive, very open, and very kind. You might get harsh criticism every now and then, but that's because they do genuinely want you to get better.

If anyone is interested in getting involved with Random Receipts, you can sent me a private message or leave a line in the comments. We'd love to create with you.

You can also follow me on Twitter or become a follower on the right if you're so inclined. I'm also considering a Speaking with Storms page on Facebook, so we'll see where that idea goes.  I went ahead and created the Facebook fan page, so if you like what you read, click here to "Like" me on Facebook! Thanks for reading, everyone.

"Cannot be Reconciled with Wisdom, Justice, and Love."

DISCLAIMER: If you are easily offended, easily angered by opposing viewpoints, overly conservative, ridiculous, war-mongering, or overly militant, DO NOT READ THIS POST. This post is more for myself to organize my thoughts than for any one of you. This post WILL make you angry. This post WILL cause controversy. This post might just cost me viewers, and frankly, I'm happy about that then. You are more than free (in fact, you are invited) to disagree. However, I will not tolerate any hateful messages in comments, and I will not abide infighting on this blog. I have stopped it before, I will do it again. You have been given your fair warning.


In case you didn't know, faithful readers, I am an American. Therefore, I naturally have my fair share of political views when it comes to my country. Today, during Independence Day, the birthday of our nation, I keep in mind those issues that I know affect me and my fellow Americans.

I do not truly hate very many things, but there are two issues I will be discussing. The first: War. I hate everything about it. The expenses, the motivations, the fighting, killing, raping, destruction, pillaging... I cannot abide any of it. My beliefs are strongly against war. I believe that all weapons are abominations, and good people detest them. This oftentimes puts me at odds with people who are either serving in the military or have loved ones who serve.

I'm going to say this right now: I do not support war in any context. I do not support the idea of soldiers (for I believe there should be no need for them), though I do give respect to anyone who feels a sense of duty towards protecting what is important to them. Granted, in the world we've created for ourselves, the military does provide certain usefulness. That being said, however, there should be other ways for us to get those things done.

I have friends from Vietnam who told me things about the war my country had with them that I would never read in a history book. I have met Koreans who taught me more about the Korean War than a single class I've ever attended. I have met Japanese who want Americans out of Okinawa. My only conclusion is thus: No wonder America is one of the most hated countries in the world.

On April 4th of 1967, Martin Luther King, Jr. spoke these words outside of Riverside Church in New York City:

"I come to this magnificent house of worship tonight because my conscience leaves me no other choice... A true revolution of values will lay hand on the world order and say of war, "This way of settling differences is not just." This business of burning human beings with napalm, of filling our nation's homes with orphans and widows, of injecting poisonous drugs of hate into the veins of peoples normally humane, of sending men home from dark and bloody battlefields physically handicapped and psychologically deranged, cannot be reconciled with wisdom, justice, and love. A nation that continues year after year to spend more money on military defense than on programs of social uplift is approaching spiritual death."

Martin Luther King, Jr. and my biggest influence, Thích Nhất Hạnh, at a peace conference in Paris.

I will not write any more on the topic because all of my thoughts agree wholeheartedly with that excerpt. Indeed, Martin Luther King, Jr. took the words out of my mouth over 40 years prior to this day.


The other topic I want to tackle is something I despise almost as much as war, because they are, in fact, very closely related: American Exceptionalism.The term refers to the belief that America is exceptional in every way, and that it is simple "better" than other countries. Most Exceptionalists believe America is the best country in the world; So much better, in fact, that God himself smiles upon America and America alone. Naturally, most people who believe this are Christian and therefore practice a religion that states very clearly that God loves everyone equally and beyond measure. The contradiction is obvious.

Barack Obama spoke to the people of Cairo, Egypt, on June 4th of 2009 and said

"Given our interdependence, any world order that elevates one nation or group of people over another will inevitably fail."

However, he then contradicted himself in a State of the Union address by calling America "the light of the world". America is unique, yes, just as Korea is unique or Uzbekistan is unique or China, Ethiopia, Germany, Romania, Chile, or Canada. However, that does not mean we are better. Our differences are what should bring us together, not tear us apart. I believe in a unique America, but I will never stand for a sovereign America.

I know this seems like a lot of anti-America anarchist high-school bullshit, but please understand this: I like America. It has done good things. Sure, I want to live outside of it, but I am an American (whether I like it or not) so I will wear it as a part of who I am... But I will not stand for warmongering and hubris.

I wrote the following words watching the Independence Day parade with my family.

Oh, Say, Can You See?

Oh, say, can you see?

Today parades will toss sweets to energetic, ecstatic young children.
Today, polished brass blasts Sousa as they march to the drumming.
Today, old men drive go-karts, filling the air with the buzz of 2-cylinder engines like a swarm of Fez-donning hornets.

Oh, say, can you see?

Today, thousands of Americans will have their hands blown off, intoxicated by paroxysms of American Exceptionalism.
Today, one of the most powerful people in the world will speak to his people and tell them that the soil they walk upon is the Promised Land, that the Mississippi flows with milk and honey, and that they were Chosen by God to be His People.

Oh, say, can you see?

Today, old bombers, tanks, and jeeps will run in remembrance of holy war.
Today, the bombs bursting in air will bring smiles to the faces of thousands enthralled.
Today, the crimson blood is encouraged, the white noised turned full blast, and the bitter blue tears of unspeakable loss perpetuated.

Oh, say, can't you see?

Being patriotic is not a bad thing at all. It can only be beneficial to acknowledge and take pride in where you are from. When this leads to arrogance, however, it leads to division. It leads to misunderstandings. It leads to petty fighting. It leads to anger. It leads to stereotypes. It leads to war. I am American, but I do not stand for this America. I stand for the right America--The other America.

What you win in the immediate battles is little compared to the effort you put into it but if you see that as a part of this total movement to build a new world, you know what cathedral you're building when you put your stone in? You do have a choice. You don't have to be a part of the world of the lynchers. You can join the other America. There is another America! --Anne Braden

Definition Kills

Hey, readers. I know I haven't posted anything in about a week, but that's because I've been quite busy.

First, I went with my family up north to a place called Gooseberry Falls. It's probably my favorite state park in the whole of Minnesota, because of the forests, rivers, and wildlife there. I really enjoyed it, even though I was without a shower (willingly) for four days. Those who know me personally know that I had long curly hair, which is somewhat a pain to deal with and make sure that it looks fine. Therefore, four days without a shower pretty much rendered me out of the game for finding ladies up in Duluth and Grand Marais. That being said, I wouldn't pursue any ladies there anyway because it's just a mite too far north for me. The commute to see her would be brutal.

Anyway, speaking of my hair, it used to be nine inches long-- I've cut it down to one inch. My head feels a lot lighter and I'm enjoying the change of pace.

Also, I just the other night attended a little get together where I accomplished a lot. Normally, I'm fine with people reading my material when I'm not in front of them. As soon as I get in front of people to perform, however, I get a typical case of stage fright. At the party, though, I was able to get so into the moment that I didn't care. I was so focused and energetic that it was the farthest thing from my mind. The people there were so supportive and open minded, so being there was something I am grateful for.

My friends and I came up with a few big ideas that night, and I just want to jot them down before I forget about them. So, what better way than to share it with you all?

1. The "Greater Good" centers around selflessness. A "good" person is simply a generous person who puts her own benefit below that of others.
2. Definition Kills. We only know what Beauty is because we label other things as ugly. The key to real wisdom is to refuse duality.
3. This world is not real. 
4. Everything that is, is Alive. 
5. Everything that is, is Art.

I've been writing a lot lately. I know I use that sentence a lot on this blog, but this is actually more true than ever. I have been spending time with a lot of creative people and that creative energy is doing a lot of good things for me. I'm going to go ahead and share something I wrote on my trip up north.

From Highway 61 Overlooking Lake Superior



I see the Superior Gitche Gumee.
The clouds slowly descend after a lazy drizzle fills the air with grey.
From atop this hill I look down,
Upon the steely blue-grey waters
Churning with eagerness to throw themselves upon the rocks of the shore.
As my eyes trace the horizon covered by a soft cloud curtain,
A soft smile sneaks up on me as I realize
I can't tell where the skies meet those waters
As they drop off the edge of the earth
Into nothingness.

The determined flowers stretching up from the bushes press upon me
A scent unfamiliar,
And as I walk away, I look back to see one lone rock
Staring back at me from among the waves.
Across the highway, where the drivers speed past
(As they presumably do every day),
 I view the mist-covered forests pouring over the hillside
Like some great verdant blanket.

A pair of older men stand along the rocky shoreline below,
Swapping stories and secrets
As they skip stones.

I saw that scene as we stopped to look at the fog rising up from the lake, and I felt this surge of ideas coming into me, and warming me from the outside in, into my core. I had no choice but to write.

I always love writing, and I am happy each time I am able to share that with people.