hear your voice.

hear your voice.

i hear your voice,
and i think you are calling me.
from a distance the shadows still stumble,
out in the streets,
they keep looking for lost lovers.

baby, baby,
i will hold you close.
baby, baby
these ancient ghosts won’t haunt us
any longer.
the farther we float from humanity
the freer we feel-
go figure. go figure-
the mathematics of a dream deferred,
and what happens to those
who stop believing that magic is real
and anything can happen.
i hate being the one
to have to tell
that one day you’ll have to grow up,
and act your age,
and act your age,
and act your age.
whatever that means.
whatever that means.

i hear your voice,
and i think you are calling me,
but i can’t make out what you’re saying,
and i hope it’s not too late.
just hold out till i reach you.

we live in a city that’s quickly forgetting
just who we were.
who’s walked the ground where you now stand,
and who came before-
those kinds of things matter
even if you can’t accept it,
even if it hurts to face it.
you’re going to have to
make peace with your past.
you can’t go on ignoring it.
i wish i could water it down,
help it hurt less,
but we all feel guilty for a reason
because we know
we could do so much better,
but just don’t.
is it just laziness
or something much more sinister?
because there’s so much we could be,
from potential to kinetic-
there is so much energy and love
in our hearts,
but we just don’t always act upon it.

i hear your voice,
and i think you are calling me,
talking about all the things
i’m always wondering myself
when conversing with the universe.

05.01.16.

not 2 late 4 evolution.

not 2 late 4 evolution.

had such high hopes
for achieving greatness,
but life happened,
and some hands were dealt.
some chances were taken.
some opportunities floundered.
some were wasted.
sometimes you killed it and ‘slayed’ them with personality.
sometimes you were just a few seconds late,
or too ahead of the curve.
sometimes you didn’t have a chance.
you kept going though,
and were resilient
even when you felt like sisyphus.
even when you knew there was no other way,
even when the possibility for failure was greater
than the possibility for success,
you have persisted.
you are the result of generations of evolution.
in your dna, all of humanities’ successes and failures
towards survival are inscribed and engraved-
do not wear that lightly.
you are the result of someone else’s survival.
we are a species that just won’t quit.
no matter how bad the planet tries to exterminate us
because perhaps mother earth needs us as well
to keep track and memory of its purple majesties.

but let us not get too cocky
for fear of becoming cock-eyed.
let us instead
become warriors united instead of tribes divided.
let us become learners of life,
explorers of hope,
and discoverers of patience.
let us pay close attention
to the earth, and those without a voice
for they have much to say.

had such high hopes,
but it is not too late,
but we must hurry.
for as we speak or as you read,
there are those who have already give up hope,
and thus gone over to the dark side.
thus the reason for all
the zombie and post apocalyptic shows on tv.

everyone’s getting ready for tomorrow to never come
instead of building a today that will bring a brighter tomorrow.
it’s like they ain’t “realize, that everyone you’ve ever known
will one day…
and instead of…”

had such high hopes,
but it is not too late,
but we must hurry.

04.23.16.

my friends and dreams.

my friends and dreams.

talked to my friends about a dream i was starting to have,
and i could have sworn they had all been there.

as i was telling and describing,
i got the strangest feeling
that i had shared this anecdote before,
but everyone was too polite to say anything.

i felt my words bounce off them,
and crash against the padded glass walls inside my room.

that was the first time that
i had finally understood
my actual, current situation,
and why it was that it had always seemed
like i could never leave,
but everyone else entered and exited at will.

it was madness.
i told myself to relax.
i told myself to calm down.
breathe. just breathe, i kept saying, almost as if chanting,
calling incantations in case i forgot to
breathe.

i started pacing back and forth,
or maybe i was going in circles.
i needed to crouch back under my covers,
and roll up into a ball.
if only i record return to the womb,
to the fetal stage,
the “pro-lifers” would save me.

where was i?
better yet, what was i?
what was this form of consciousness i was experiencing?
i knew that i was me,
but the me that i was wasn’t the me i was supposed to be.
of that much, i was sure.

i waited patiently like i was taught
for something to happen,
for something to happen,
but nothing happened.

it was madness.
i told myself to relax.
i told myself to calm down.
breathe. just breathe, i kept saying, almost as if chanting,
calling incantations in case i forgot to
breathe.

i’d have to be the catalyst.
the change i wanted to see-
it was a beautiful dream.

it was a beautiful dream,
and you were all there,
and we all understood why we were there,
and there was no need for questions
because we all just knew.

it was a beautiful dream.
walk slowly with us,
and please be patient,
everyone sees the light eventually.

04.22.16.

only we can save ourselves.

only we can save ourselves.

felt like i was living
like a modern day hermit
in an urban metropolis
surrounded by millions,
but never interacting with no one.

a bunch of strangers surround everyone.
we need more guns. need more guns.

riding the train,
and a bunch of bodies rest
and crash against
from all the people,
from all the movement,
but no one is saying a word.
everyone’s eyes used to be staring
out window, at the ceiling, or towards the floor,
but now everyone’s always staring
down at their phone.

a bunch of strangers surround everyone.
we need more guns. need more guns.

do you really know who your neighbor is?
are you ready for nuclear holocaust?
a zombie apocalypse?
global meltdown and climate refugees?
are you ready for the end of the world?
do you really know who your neighbors are?

a bunch of strangers surround everyone.
we need more guns. need more guns,
more policing in the streets and a stronger military,
we need more bombs.
forget civil liberties and freedom
as long as the terrorists don’t win.

only we can save ourselves.
stop being so afraid,
i promise i won’t bite.

felt like i was living
like a modern day hermit
in an urban metropolis
surrounded by millions,
but never interacting with no one
because some days,
i just can’t.

04.21.16.

the universe imagined (or how we put it back together).

the universe imagined (or how we put it back together).

they were never going to let us be.

we had to find ways to liberate ourselves.
we belonged much farther than they were willing to let us be,
so we ran down the sunset
to see if we could change the way things went,
the way things were.

seems so absurd now
to think that we even thought-
it at all possible
that all was possible,
but we had to find out for ourselves.

they were never going to let us try,
and they wanted to cut our wings before we even tried
to fly,
so we ran
as fast as we could
without looking back,
and believe me when i tell you,
we never wanted to let you all go,
but they were never going to let us be.
those ghosts and shadows would have kept haunting us,
and all our ancient collective fears reappearing
because you all were too much of a reminder
of who we were and how we were
when they were around.

we needed to start over and reimagine ourselves
in a whole new different world
where it would be possible
to just belong,
and have that be good enough
to just be
without too much thinking
about everything-
even things like how we’re breathing.

we just wanted to be
without all the guilt and fear
we’d been conditioned with,
so i’m sorry if you felt we let you go.
believe me when i tell you,
we would’ve loved to have taken you with us,
but you just weren’t ready.

now we see you see,
but we also see
that it’s no longer us versus them
because we’re all in this together.

we’re all in this together and we are all alone,
and that’s exactly how the universe
needs it to be.

04.21.16.

introductions. of sorts…

Originally posted in Medium.

introductions

of sorts…

Hello, I am Mr. Frausto and am very excited to be teaching in the computer lab and using the Internet a lot more in the classroom, especially to create a space on the Internet that extends what we do in the classroom out into the real world.

I have been teaching since September 2001, and have been teaching in Chicago since 2002. I love living in the neighborhood in which I work because it makes me feel extremely connected to my students and their families, especially since my family has lived in this neighborhood since October of 1994. I feel very connected to my students being a product of the Chicago public school system myself. I hope to inspire my students to establish goals and to then set in motion actions to achieve them. Having been very fortunate to have taken part of various diverse learning experiences myself, I hope to prepare my students to become active participants of an ever-evolving technological and multicultural world. I believe that it is important for students to be able to express themselves, their feelings, and thoughts. I hope this space is being created in my classroom, and now on the World Wide Web.

In my spare time, I enjoy reading and writing. Some of my interests include poetry, photography, video editing, music recording, web design, coding, traveling, and history.

from Tonti’s Computer Lab

i am me, a teacher, a po’ E.T, artivist, journalist, librarian.
short e aka 5ynthet1c m1t0515 of the lonely lost dark empties. a dreamer, a wanderer, a wonderer. still trying to find sense, crashing against spaces of the mind. not sure anymore about me or about u. it’s stopped making sense a long time ago, falling deeper into the rabbit hole. where am i again!?! what? never mind… don’t expect me to say anything. i came to watch. it’s too complicated. “who needs action when you got words.” “i’m a loser baby, so why don’t you…” and stuff.

i am just like you, with too many words inside my head, and too many ideas floating around, but i am just like you, regardless of what the voice inside my head may attempt to convince us of.
i can usually be found working with students, and when i am not, i am working on myself in my community with a pen and paper and a camera interacting with my laptop, a mic, garageband, a guitar, and a midi player…

in the future, where will we be? in the future, what will we be? i am po’E.T. today! tomorrow who knows?
and they say he spoke in two tongues, armed like two guns…

from urban po’E.Tree(s)

Well, I am currently a computer science/technology teacher who’s been writing poetry regularly since I was 12. What began as something I did at night, while hiding in my room, has turned into an obsession of sorts. Poetry is my therapy, joy, a home, a friend, a companion and partner in dialogue. I want to share this relationship with my students, and hope they also find a way to find their voice through poetry.

Compiled in these posts are poems created mostly by third through fifth grade students along with the process as to how assignments/activities are selected. Students have been members in the school’s Spoken Word club or have been a student at some point in one of my classes.

The official title of the club/class was “Spoken Word: Poetry, Raps, and Lyrics”, which is currently non-existent, but won’t be for long. I guess I will also post some of my poems, which I write specifically for the students of the Spoken Word club, my classes, and community.

I’m hoping that eventually this blog becomes a continuous conversation about poetry, in particular the poetry of children.

The Poetry of Children

Breaking schemas
And
The molding of tomorrow’s youth
Into plastic soldiers
With replaceable, interchangeable personalities,
Guns, and names.
Marching away into the eve
Of tomorrow’s dawn,
Our
Children’s poetry
Will be
Bullets and gunshots ricocheting off the walls
That once supported dreams.
Left trying to decipher,
Marks on the wall,
Messages in graffiti,
If there was ever any
Meaning.
Cavemen left their marks on walls,
But these new scars relate misguided,
Disenchanted, disenfranchised urban youth-
Revenge on the concrete
Built on superficial ideals,
Wasted energy, fading hope, and savage inequalities.
Historians will remain in awe
At stains of blood,
Of murder filled books juxtaposed with fairy tales.
And these stories are yet to be recorded and written.
Depending on who dictates the future,
And how much everyone’s allowed to know,
They may never get written.
Thus the
Children’s poetry
Must not fall on
Or off
Deaf ears,
So that deviant behavior and memory
Will continue to remind
History,
And perhaps the whole conscious
Of present society,
Of those ignored, gentrified, and pushed to the outskirts
Until permeating the psyche.
Being that truth cannot be
Hidden or buried,
Children’s poetry
Will come out beating
To rhythms the color of love
That most people have already long forgotten.
Beatings and rhythms,
Washing out
The bitterness the present has left us.
Or maybe it’s just me that keeps hearing
The same thing,
The same song
That everyone’s been singing.
All the radio’s been playing.
Dewey would argue what the schools have been teaching
For centuries since the Romans and Greeks,
Or what corporate entities dictate through promoting.
Because
Nobody’s been listening,
Nobody is listening,
Nobody is listening
To the
Children’s poetry.
Cause what could they possibly teach anybody?
The
Children’s poetry,
Strange mutterings,
Frequencies,
But transmissions
Have had a tendency of being
Intercepted,
And thus the message has yet to be
Fully understood.
But children still believe in poetry.
Translating messages for history,
Some must start then decoding these writings and movements
Before an eternal silence befalls us all.
Trying to figure
Children’s poetry,
Already hiding in alleys,
Break dancing, and drawing on walls.
Trained to be just like little adults.
Learning quickly to bully and scheme,
How to politic and maneuver,
Aaaarrrggghhhhh.
Next comes the nervous breakdown.
Screaming, shouting, shooting in schools.
Wait.
It’s already happening.
Wait.
Because
Nobody’s been listening,
Nobody is listening,
Nobody is listening
To the
Children’s poetry.
Listening to the static off the vinyl
Interwoven into the grooves
Until foundations come down crumbling
Off the bass
From the
Children’s poetry.
Yelling to be recognized
As a single living identity, entity,
Independent of society’s standards and schemas
Of how children are supposed to be.
The whole of society seems bent and content with silencing
What echoes tremble in the voice of
Children’s poetry.
Dancing, running, playing, exploring, discovering
Without guides, barriers, or grown ups
At peace to develop like haiku:
The child once had thoughts
Till order became borders
The child could not cross.
The child still has dreams,
But rules are raised up like walls.
Free the child in me.
Please.
Free the child in me.
Please. Free the child in me. Please.
Free the child in me.
Free the child in me.
Please. Free the child in me. Please.
Free the child in me.

9.24.04.

from spoken word: poetry, raps & lyrics.

crumbling ivory towers.

crumbling ivory towers (continents are just big islands).

wisdom means nothing on an island.
so isolated from the heart is the mind,
and if it takes more time,
well, i don’t really mind
as long as at the end, we get it right.

why are we in such a hurry?
always in such a rush?
to collapse and crash?
get it over with?
but there’s so much more to this,
so much more to this life of ours.
reach for stars and melt the bars.
live like lions instead of cowards.
free the earth. remove the chains.
expand your love. release the pain,
and start to look at everything
with new eyes. see through lies.
you realize time’s a device
to keep one occupied,
but there’s so much more to this.
there’s so much more to this.

wisdom means nothing on an island.
so isolated from the heart is the mind,
and if it takes more time,
well, i don’t really mind
as long as at the end, we get it right.

let’s do something that matters-
something that makes a difference.
let’s be that difference,
and bring about the change
we’ve been promised for so long
by politicians, pastors, preachers, ministers, and teachers.
bob dylan said it’d be blowing in the wind
for the times, they are changing.
and once we were slaves, now we are free.
once were the subjects, now let’s run these schools,
and educate ourselves to learn-
not to be assessed in order to pass
when life’s the most important test,
which can only be assessed
and evaluated through our collective happiness.
please excuse my arrogance.
please excuse my arrogance.

wisdom means nothing on an island.
so isolated from the heart is the mind,
and if it takes more time,
well, i don’t really mind
as long as at the end, we get it right.

07.30.14.