The Passion Collective

passion collective - A number of individuals working together with a compelling emotion or feeling

The Passion Collective.

col·lec·tive- a collective body; a gathering; a collection of extracts; a number of individuals working or acting together.

pas·sion- any powerful or compelling emotion or feeling, as love or hate.

pas·sion col·lec·tive- A number of individuals working or acting together with a powerful or compelling emotion or feeling.

It was a November afternoon that I sat on the front porch of my local cafe and deeply thought about an idea; Nothing out of the ordinary as I did this often and much. I drank lukewarm coffee and discussed with some old acquaintances the idea of a group of young adults putting together a “Rolling-Stone” type magazine/website; To tell you the truth, many talented people laughed and shook off the offer, for that I am deeply saddened because they’re going to miss one hell of a ride. I proceeded to reach out to all different types of people from all different walks of life, many haven’t even met yet. That is the beauty of it. It’s as if I'm placing together the pieces of a puzzle, slowly but surely. Our generation is in need of something refreshing. Our brains will race and our eyes will quickly process what lies before us. What lies before us is The Passion Collective, a collective production founded in New York. It will be fueled by talent, hard-work, and most of all passion. It will only work if YOU contribute your piece of passion to the puzzle. Everyone is passionate about something. I, Zachary Franck have selected a group of unique individuals who all bring something to the table. From poets to journalists, photographers to bloggers, sports enthusiasts to hip-hop heads, I promise you that there is something for everyone. I truly believe in this and I believe in you. This project will stay true to it's name, always.Unlike other websites/magazines,The Passion Collective will actually make you think. As Hunter S. Thompson once said, “Buy the ticket, Take the ride”. Please join The Passion Collective as we all embark on this journey together; Why would you watch the puzzle being built when you can help build it!?

Wolves & Horses: The Wheels on the Bus.

by Zachary Franck

Ah, another wet, Wednesday evening.

Another Upstate New York late night placed in the midst of an early September, 

Another late nights rain takes yet another early morning as an out-matched hostage.

I sit under the dim light of a cracked lamp-shade while wearing a soaking, wet grey sweater and a Colorado Rockies hat. Bukowski once said, “Isolation is the greatest gift you can receive ". Pure genius.

And the wheels on the bus go round and round..

People live and people die; Some happy, some said, some successful, some failures others stuck in the very middle with their souls fighting to keep hold while their brain and heart stay in a constant battle push and pull.As they tell themselves that everything is fine. everything little thing is going to be alright. I wonder if Marley knew how fast the cancer cells were multiplying throughout his body,  undiscovered.  And slowly but surely taking over and depleting his organs, shutting them down one by one until there was not enough health in him to live let alone fucking sing that stupid fucking song.

Or maybe i'm completely wrong, totally fucked in the head with an absolute sick and twisted perspective on life and death, along with all of the meaningless bullshit in between. I'm probably just another maniac whose misfitted thought process has held him back, pushed him forward, and ultimately has restrained him for the rest of his life. Hey! at least i'm not mediocre, i'd fucking swallow a shotgun shell before I let myself be described as mediocre. What a horrible fucking adjective that is, It's worse than normal.

And the day I become normal is the day that I stop writing and the day I feel as free as the wind that blows through the treetops in my mothers' backyard, at the same exact time i'll cry every day and night until i sleep, imprisoned in my own mind, a paradox that will plague me for the rest of my life. The day that I stop writing, The wheels on the bus will stop, the door will open and I will step off, into the road of reality, only to get ran over by a mac-truck.

 © 2015 The Passion Collective