Who Are You?


Have you ever looked into the unknown and swore you saw the past?

Were your eyes screaming “Déjà vu,” as the world ranked you in last?

Your knees, as did mine, did they bruise from being knocked down once more after the last time?

Let’s check this: How is your voice?

Lost from screaming or simply fading into everyone else’s life noise?

Did you write a battle cry or settle to live a mediocre life just in time to die?

What happened to your ideals?

Were you holding them in open, unsure hands when paid a visit from the one who steals?

Did you sell your dreams to the highest bidder?

Or instead did you sit back idly and let your unfinished work fictionally “simmer”?

Could you pick yourself up and find your inner fire?

Can I dare you to put one more match on your heart’s desire?

Would you say it is possible?

Could the unimaginable become attainable?

Really though, could myth meet mankind and thrive under the hand of the Divine?

Could you reach higher and climb the beanstalk to slay the liar?

Time is precious and warriors are few.

I’d risk my life for the good, but can I count on you?

Dragging one along to their own destiny isn’t an option in this life.

I’m sorry but I cannot always shield you from pain, anguish and strife.

With my hand over my heart I will promise you this:

When you finally connect to the conqueror within, there will be guaranteed a reclaiming wind.

Get high, stand on a box if that helps you.

Can’t you see there is so much in the atmosphere for us to do?

The impossible is bating us.

We cannot afford to lose our focus.

Are you in? Or should I count you out?

Begging to be immortal isn’t what each day is about.



Tonight, I am Young…

So often when I write I feel this overwhelmingly-over the top- insane desire to voice my maturity. You see, I don’t like telling my age because I feel like the number of my years doesn’t match the number of my soul. But tonight, well, tonight I am young…

The music starts, we’ve all heard this tune before. This melody alone closes one door and opens another. I feel that sense of change and I jump into the craziness that is my future just as I jumped into a twirling jump rope as a girl; careless and daring. I smile but it doesn’t quite hit me yet. This is it. After four years we are moving on. He will set down his diploma to grab the controls of a fighter jet. She frames her diploma so that when she uses a scalpel it isn’t considered a crime. Me on the other hand…I graze my hand over this coveted paper as if to wipe my slate clean. With my past accomplishments I wipe away my childish fears and my insecure questioning so that moving on is that much easier.

I catch his eye more than once and my heart hurts that sometimes things happen that pull people apart. But with this happening I’ve learned something: pick up on the subtle hints, they tell you all about a person. She talks louder than anyone but I know her heart is good. We never talked much due to my bystander mentality but I wish her the best. My, this is harder than I thought.

Daily I went to the designated buildings and sat through classes. Some days were an absolute party but most days I said, “I can’t wait to get out of here,” and I carried that belief to the end. I wanted to get out, but now I see that I will miss more than I had originally calculated. In these past four years, I was allowed to be young. I lived a slightly spontaneous, mildly manic life and that is one thing you won’t see in my notebook of regrets. Tonight I told myself to write “Fin” and turn the page. Tonight I am young…

This white page is daunting. I could do so many things but for now, I will write simply this:

The world never stops, do something that changes this. Love furiously, listen intently and live intentionally.

I will have my whole life to show off my love for the future but for right now, in this moment, I will lay down in my youth and sleep knowing that I will forever be moving forward and never return backward.

Tonight, I am frozen in time. Years from now this outfit and hair style will be nothing more than a memory in picture form. I will show my children and they will marvel at my youth, for they will have never known this version of me. I will breathe in the cold oxygen of what tomorrow will hold but for now I will choose to hold my breath and enjoy this night. I will hold the hands of time still and fight the oncoming trucks that blind me with their headlights of possibility. I will stomp my rising platform down and I will tell the world to stay awake for a little while longer. Tonight, I am young. I will run one last time into that uneven forest of adolescence and I will set off fireworks, everyone will know I am here. I will jump into the fountain and splash around in what Ponce de Leon died seeking. For in this moment I am drenched in the youth he hunted. I will dance without music because my heart will replay my favorite memories and that is the sweetest music. I will find my Leonardo and tell him to travel the world with me. Tears will fall only because of the beauty my eyes witness. Laughter will be the fuel that moves my legs toward my goals. There will be a lot of winking in my last rampage of remembering, sarcasm and tomfoolery never go out of style. I will pull that chair out from under father time and I will soak my obstacles’ hands in warm water as they sleep. I’ll try to rip a table cloth off of a table like the magicians. I will start to count the stars in the sky, and then I’ll restart and restart. I will sing louder than the birds, after all, I have thumbs so I am superior. I will grab my paintbrush and my cherry red paint…I will paint the town red. I’ll skip down the avenue of adventure and I’ll giggle until morning comes.







–Aris Rielle Angle


Coming out of nothing it finds me. A splash. It surprises me.

Joy, pure joy is like a splash.

I sit and read your book, splash. I’m drenched.

My friends and I jump into the unknown with crossed fingers and somehow we land in a puddle. Joy must have accumulated here.

I’d say joy is like rain but I like to think that joy does not come in small drops. Although you could argue that joy is a constant thing that we simply choose to ignore at times like an ignored rain storm but I believe that joy comes in large, unannounced amounts all of the time.

As I admire the world I am joyful. We have so much to live for, why we forget that I’ll never understand. I find joy in the way those people carry on and I find joy in the picture that love paints. Most of all I find joy in the simple act of breathing. You could argue this but I do not think you would be in a chipper mood if you did not have oxygen, friend.

Next time you feel gloomy find where the splash is. Seek it out, it is there. When life gives you lemons, do not water them down. Instead eat them, that sour taste may spur you to get up and receive your joy! You are worth more than you know and that joy is ready to surprise you.

Observations From O’Hare

Everyone is rushing, they have places to go. The seasoned bob and weave through the masses while the rookies look up wide-eyed in hopes to find their place. Hooked to their screens they work, I cannot judge them because as I write this I do the same. Men walk with chests puffed to bask in the success they wish to scream at onlookers through their manner. Women hold close to their belongings trying to stay on path. I admire the children and the way they follow; for the most part. I see a child beg for a souvenir and I see another lying fast asleep on their father’s shoulder. Looking, looking, looking. Coming and going. They each tell a story all their own. Perhaps they are going on their honeymoon, perhaps they are traveling to say their last goodbyes. I watch, again I continue to master the art of being a bystander. She walks quickly, maybe this is due to tardiness or maybe excitement. Her arms swing to and fro as she goes on. He walks calm and smooth. Judging by his backpack, he is going to, or coming from somewhere adventurous. I picture that man walking through trees and climbing mountains. I would be disappointed to hear that he simply went to visit his aunt. The next man comes by, he laughs with friends. I pretend that they are reminiscing an encounter with a drunk and foolish man on their travels. This is a memory that they will pull out of their minds at friendly gatherings for years to come. They will no doubt start the story telling with “do you remember that guy in Turkey?” Laughing will soon follow as they open that mind drawer. She rolls one small case. Alone she walks as she keeps a straight face. She resembles a foreigner maybe she is here to visit family. Maybe she is here to finish school. He looks like an educator. She looks like an anxious mother. He boasts the colors of our nation, he is a soldier. I want to thank him. The two sitting by me just met. The woman is blonde and speaks with an accent. She laughs with the man as they try to plug-in their phones. Is love starting here? I couldn’t tell you. They are headed to Vegas. He is here for love. She wants to experience life and he looks me in the eye as I type…oh how I hope these people are unaware that I am making them characters in my story. She is beautiful, in her heels she walks with confident steps. Grandpa. Athlete. Stewardess. Spring breaker. New guy in town. Playboy. The gang is all here. Lets go somewhere wonderful. All of you beautiful people, lets join hands and cross the ocean. Adventures await us.

London Skies

In this city I am invincible.

My neck might have a painful time because I look up so often but I hardly notice. The bitter wind burns my face but my smile is unaffected by my dropping body temperature.

Sounds, sounds, sounds.

The city never sleeps, and I realize this as I try to. I turn in my bed and look out the window, I’m here. My, this city has been calling to me for years now and I have finally answered. The city itself is intoxicating, I find myself swaying every way it tells me to. Overwhelming  joy is my addiction. Shuffling through the masses I am alone. But in my heart, I am surrounded by fellow neighbors, I belong here. The tube station is full and the platform is humming as my train to Paddington arrives. After a long day here I want to shower and sleep but the city beckons me to stay awake and keep it company, so I walk slower and look longer.

Soon enough I am at my hotel, I miss the streets already. As the water flows over my head I remember my day.

I stood in palace after palace. I marveled at some of the most glorious works of art. I literally walked in the footsteps of royalty. Hours were spent walking around Westminster Abbey. Here lies a Mover, here lies a Changer. How intriguing it was. The dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral took my words away from me. Soon enough I heard them being thrown into the Whispering Gallery. Oh the golden trims. Statues of him and her. Victor and King, their stone faces look past me and reminisce the accomplishments that made them worthy of their chiseled  immortality.

Music filled my heart and head as I walked along the places I have dreamed of. Over and over again I found myself singing in the rain…in the rain the pavement shines like silver, all the lights are misty in the river. 

Gardens full of plant life infused me with their energy. The snow fell and the rain appeared but the sun came back every time…here comes the sun….

I looked from above and enjoyed the majestic view that the people who fill my history books enjoyed. I stretched out my arms to my sides and tried to embrace the fullness of this city. How I wish I would’ve lived in their time.

My eyes begin to burn as the soap makes its way down my face. Wow, I must have really gotten lost in my mind’s journal of London.

It was in this place that my favorite author wrote. This is where he and his friends met to go over their works. Somehow I have found myself here, in the same place I have only dreamed of.

This is where my heart is alive and free.

It is as though my heart ran away from me and chose a home across the sea.

Here We Go Again

I’ve put my left shoe on my right foot again. You would think that by now I would be able to see that doing that isn’t right, but I still do it. I can tell my step is off and things don’t feel right, but I keep walking because I have places to go. My left shoe is lovely, but it doesn’t belong on my right foot. I find myself in this place often. I want something to work out so badly but it is not meant to work out. I take my future into my own hands and I try to fit things into my life that do not belong there. Doing this often causes disappointment and setting yourself up to be let down is never a good thing. But for now I will cut myself some slack. It is tough to let go and walk forward. I guess maybe I should stop looking down at these shoes and look up for  direction. Goodness, for the life of me I don’t know why I want my left shoe to fit my right foot so badly. I suppose I’ve learned to care less about my shoes because I just want to get…there. I want to be on the mountain top but I keep trying to make something happen. Clearly things need to change. I believe I am capable of moving past this whole shoe incident, but I am very stubborn. When I want something I try to make it work, even when I’m the only one working to make the shoe fit. Do you ever feel like you are caught in the same routine?

The Idea Of Knowing

Knowing is a curious thing. Actually, knowledge as a whole baffles me. I see so many people who just…know. They know where to go, they know what to do and they know who to be. I believe I have found the latter, but I’m not quite sure how I feel about this idea of knowing. I choose to believe that since there is One who knows all, we shouldn’t worry too much about our knowledge. Before you throw your pen let me explain. Since there is One who has plans for my life, I don’t need to worry about being left in the dark. I do not need to play God in my own life, for that is a role no man can reprise. I believe my job is to be a listener, a follower and a do-er. Worrying just doesn’t add up. I mean, I could write my own monologue to start with. Then I could perform my life as I see fit, that is a possible path. Or I could go through life with a script from above that is held together with blood-stained gold. Knowledge can pass over my head for I was given love, purpose and design in the garden. All I need to know is that which He shows me, all other knowledge will be left for the dogs as we enter those gates. I’ll place my tattered life into His hands and I will gain all the knowledge I need in the journey that follows.

What Happens While You Blink

It takes .00001 seconds to blink.
In that time you are completely blind. Your arms stay flat at your sides and your legs continue to hold you up, but for one hundred-thousandth of a second your environment owns you. While your eyes rest for a moment things happen all around the world. The greatest mind of our generation is completing revolutionary work. The most talented hands just finished a masterpiece. A voice that sounds like that of an angel was just discovered. While this happened, your eyes weren’t even open.
You will never get that a hundred-thousandth of a second back.
A pair of feet just found a rhythm that no one else will ever be able to match. A medical sketch was just drawn that will one day save your uncle’s life.
You keep doing that, friend! You continue to blink and let the world go on without you. What have you done? Have you even begun to build a legacy? Why are you waiting on the edge of the pool? You could do it, you know. You could be that person. Instead of standing there blinking and hearing; chose to move. While you run to make up for lost time the wind will cause you to blink more and more. Time is being wasted, my friend. See what you are capable of. Look at what God gave you and become a force of innovation.
You see, changing the world is part of the job requirement in our lives. You could choose to let everyone else make up for what you chose to not do, or you could embody the greatness that was given to you.
Now someday you will make it to the Hall of Worldchangers. And when you walk up those steps you will blink. Now your blinking is not time wasted. You worked and your eyes were dry through the struggles but now you can blink and replenish them with the movement of the world. Stamp His name on your accomplishments and you will be blessed.

Brick Walls

Brick walls are said to be strong, much like my father.
He has always been the pillar of my family and I strive to make him proud. I began to I mirror his strength in times of pain because he always seems to make it through and I want that as well. He finds shelter at my mother’s side and he finds strength with bended knees and hands raised. My father tends to take on quite a bit, and I have followed that as well. I try to do a lot because I have seen my father excel in so many things he has put his hands to and I want that same prosperity for myself.
Time and time again, I mirror my father; a brick wall.
Have you ever noticed though that brick walls all crumble at some point?
You see, this scared me. I do not want to crumble, nor do I want that to be my father’s fate. I looked closely and realized what I had missed. With proper care, brick walls last centuries. When someone tends to a brick wall and makes sure it is weathering well, no man can knock it down. I believe my father found a good “brick layer” to take care of him in my mother and in the Creator.
I will mirror my father once more. I will lift my hands and gain strength to carry on and I will find a partner in life. I will find a man to keep me standing tall. Who knows, perhaps this man is a brick wall as well. We could come together and form a house. A house made like that would stand.
My father is an example of strength and love. I want to be like him in that same sense. It is ok to be strong, just remember to have someone to take care of you as well, no one remembers a pile of rubble. We all look to bricks walls to find security.
Thank you to my father who never stops teaching me.

You Never Asked, But Here Is The Script To “Us”

Forgive me if the following is a bit disheveled. I just want you to know how I feel.

You inspired some of my greatest work, there is no doubt that you were my muse. It was you who breathed the melody I tried to write words to in hopes of a perfect song. I have noticed though, that you are not worth my words. You never were. It is sad, I see now that those words were wasted. They were wasted on a little boy who could not see two feet in front of himself. As I noticed this, I began to hang the blame on myself. This started by looking in the mirror and forgetting who I was. I questioned my traits, characteristics and looks. This is a side effect that no one should cause. From this I can see that you were a total waste. You became my first lost cause today. You played with my heart and the worst part is, I don’t think you even cared. You sat in your grey world and this burst of sunlight went unseen. Your eyes were fixed and your head unturned. What a waste, these lovely words were spent to buy empty love. How could you see the rain and yet still turn to the fire? Being caught up in you was like running on a cliff. I enjoyed the view and thought that maybe you could be my partner, but then the edge came and you were the one pushing me. You are an unfilled canteen, nothing but a thirst that will go unquenched. I lied to myself for too long because I chose to see the good in you, the good that wasn’t there. As I write this I shed a tear and I remember those daydreams. I remember thinking that you were going to be mine and that someday I would tell you everything.
Now you whistle and I do not hum along. How far we have come. Please just look the other way and let me sit here. Perhaps this silence will be good for me and maybe it will open your eyes. But I have to let go and I have to embrace silence. My heart is too fragile for this and my lips are tired of saying your name.