Poem recommendation (PSYCHOPATHOLOGY ENTRY: 014). \_(0o0)_/~Chicken!!!!!!!~ \_(0o0)_/

Before I get into the great poem I would just like to have a small moment of silence for this great class…There we go. Onto the poem.

This is how the poem made me feel. Overall this poem just fills me with satisfaction and an acceptance of death while also cherishing fond memories from loved ones who are gone. It reminds me of the beauties you can find in the past and all the great moments you had or shared with a person or at a specific point and just because it is gone doesn’t mean that you didn’t live and enjoy such a great and blissful memories.

The Garden


for Robert Penn WarrenIt shines in the garden,
in the white foliage of the chestnut tree,   
in the brim of my father’s hat
as he walks on the gravel.

In the garden suspended in time   
my mother sits in a redwood chair:   
light fills the sky,
the folds of her dress,
the roses tangled beside her.

And when my father bends
to whisper in her ear,
when they rise to leave
and the swallows dart
and the moon and stars
have drifted off together, it shines.

Even as you lean over this page,   
late and alone, it shines: even now   
in the moment before it disappears.

Another Poem ^__^ (PSYCHOPATHOLOGY ENTRY: 013)

This poem was inspired by the murderer in the film “Geralds Game.” This film was based on the novel made by the renowned novelist Stephen King titled “Geralds Game”. Hopefully, you enjoy this mysterious/murderous poem! (should’ve posted it on Halloween.)

Moonlight Man

The leaves rustle and the trees sway, under a mellow ash-grey moon.

I see a face with a cold gaze. His presence like poisonous fumes.

His skin, a cold and pearly white.


 I’m staring up at the moon, it’s no longer a beautiful night.

My breath is trapped in my throat… I’m choking.

A rough and frigid hand wrapped around my neck. 

I squirm under his grasp, a kick, and a swipe.


So this is what it’s like.

To die on a starless night.

His bloodshot eyes peer over his callused and vigorous forearm.

I look into his eyes to see my frail reflection.

 He is gentle as he digs his fingers into my throat.

Another token for his collection.

My life.

Darkness prevails but before I am overcome by it…

A crescent-like sneer.

The power of Art (PSYCHOPATHOLOGY ENTRY: 012)

I’d like to mention that when I refer to art I refer to music, literature(writing and reading), and literal art (painting, drawing, etc…)

Ah, this week we have been exploring many different kinds of art, because of our genre projects. This project has been my favorite assignment of this class thus far since it mainly promotes me and the art I make in my free time. Art has always been such a soothing and fundamental practice for me as I explored the many genres that exist within it. My two favorite genres of art that go hand in hand are Music and Literature. I like to write all of my poems while drowning out the ambient noise with rich music that conveys and matches my exact emotions at that moment. Basically, I guess what I’m getting at is that art is really freeing and therapeutic and so this project has been a really fun and easy task that I can actually enjoy doing.

The sorrow that comes with the end. (PSYCHOPATHOLOGY ENTRY: 011)

Ah…nothing good lasts for all of eternity. If it did it wouldn’t be so good now would it? As we near the ending of this course I really want to take my time and think of all the great short stories we’ve come across from “The House of Usher,” to “The Yellow Wallpaper,” and my favorite “The House of Asterion.” All great stories even the ones that weren’t mentioned, I hope that one day I come across these stories in a fleeting moment and think back to the feelings they inspired, to the course I enjoyed so much and had the honor of calling my first class in college, and the freeing feeling of being able to express myself on a deeper sense through literature. I would also love to recount this great book that was recommended…” The Devil in Silver,” just saying the name alone right now makes me sigh softly and think of the small journey I had while reading the book, the ups and lows it made me feel and the morbid and harsh reality the book presents. If I could give physical value and significance to this course–other than the grade I receive after completion–it would be this book, this book allowed me to grow and see a reflection of myself…it allowed me to understand and face problems I’ve never looked into. And best of all the brief but rich journey I was allowed to experience.

Thank you Professor Otte….thank you.

Late, but still gotta update (PSYCHOPATHOLOGY ENTRY: 010)

Class has been really good, especially encountering this novel “The devil in Silver,” it is a truly amazing and refreshing read. It explores the vast depths and loss of hope felt when someone is thrown into a psychiatric unit…and the fact that they are always drugged up. I can’t really put into words how this novel makes me feel but it allowed me to get a different perspective…a new one.

This class has been really great and fun…it allowed me to explore my depths and share great thoughts with others who had so much great stuff to say. This class has given me a little more insight on the world and it’s been really good…so far my college journey is starting off on a good note.

Trying a Haiku? (PSYCHOPATHOLOGY ENTRY: 009)

Well, I haven’t been doing much with all my free time except really reading my book for class and haikus–my new found love. I will share two of my first ever haikus with the world!!! Hopefully, some stranger floats into this corner of the net! (I didn’t follow the 5-7-5 rule by the way.)


Gentle as you vitalize,

I Am Drowning.

Wrath as you extinguish.


Radiating and permeating beauty.

The brevity of night.

A hollow being only animated by the sun.


I’m just going to probably talk about something which in the end adds up to nothing.

This week I tried a brand new take on poetry, I tried to write a haiku. There isn’t much to this minimal goal that I had but it was something to me I guess. I usually write all of my poems as simply fulfilling a moment of convoluted emotions. These convoluted emotions spill out onto a document over and over and over, this repetition of spilling out emotions into poems without proper structure tends to become boring, even though it is freeing it’s always fun to try a form of poetry that restricts you a bit so you don’t go on tangents. This minimal task also led me to a brand new world, the world of haiku, this world is really really beautiful. The fact that you can enlighten someone with just a couple of words, shows eloquent beauty… so I will share my favorite haiku as of now by Matsuo Bashō.

“The Cry of the Cicada”

The cry of the cicada

Gives us no sign

That presently it will die.

-Matsuo Bashō

Translated by William George Aston


I don’t know, but there is beauty….boundless beauty in the words. It’s not limited to the simple horizons of a “bug,” but to anyone’s life. Some of us live our lives and seem to others as though everything is fine, we may: have great jobs, a lot of money, power, ambitions, etc… but deep down inside we may be fighting a lonely fight against ourselves, and sometimes…sometimes we just stop fighting. Now thinking about it this reminds me so much of “Richard Cory” by Edwin Arlington Robinson, a really good poem that speaks basically on this “sometimes we just stop fighting,” idea that I spoke about.

Well, enough of my take on this haiku, find your own meaning that you think is reasonable and hold onto it dearly, lol. Now, to speak on the non-fiction readings. Last weeks own was interesting in its respective sense, however, this week’s story is really something else, a look at the impact of suicide, but through an actual scope not fiction but reality. It’s amazing how this piece makes me feel like I’m reading fiction but it’s actually someone’s grueling reality.

Well I think I covered everything I wanted to talk about, hope whoever is reading this enjoyed their stay! ^___^

Midway Completion (PSYCHOPATHOLOGY ENTRY: 007)

So far we are halfway into the course and we are at one of the most important assignments of the class, I don’t really know how to feel or what to say besides the fact that I have been very lazy but still enjoying the whole of this new process. Diving deeper and understanding further a character. Besides all of the work class has been going at a really nice pace…especially these short stories I have loved every single one specifically House of Asterion…mostly due to my love for greek mythology. I also started writing a short story that involved a character that resembled Theseus (Asterion’s slayer) and Ariadne, so it was really refreshing and awe inspiring to see these characters especially the minotaur, even though I took more of a symbolic route for what the minotaur is in my short story. Anyways I think I will leave it here!


Ello, this is another one of my poems titled “Mama I want to die” if anybody out there is seeing this enjoy ^__^

Mama, I wanna die.

We kneel before the woman in black.

In her hand, the gun’s silver barrel glints under a full moon.

She shoots us between our eyes with a sense of duty and pride.

The man next to me is met with this dazzling creature.

She shoots him before he could breathe his last breath.

It’s my turn.

She presses the warm muzzle to my forehead.

The warmth is almost like the kiss of a mother.

Ah, yes….death is the mother of salvation.

In that moment I am happy and smile, my arms open wide in reception and acceptance.

The blood on the muzzle of the gun drips down my face.

I wait.

She doesn’t kill me. She moves on to kill the others.

I lost my smile.

I await the mother of all, Death.


Hey again, I’ve been meaning to talk more on how I’ve felt in class even though I don’t really know if anybody reads or cares…anyway. The list of short stories we’ve been reading has only been getting greater…each story just lets me see a bit more of the world and understand a much different world than I have seen or that has been presented to me. Literature has never really been one of my main sources of entertainment but short stories are so full of joy and beautiful statements that it’s almost difficult to comprehend I’m reading only nine pages of a whole story. I’ve been enjoying so much of the freedom to express myself in this class as I have said before and I hope to share more of my analysis on these short stories to the best of my extent.