now we're smoking out
withering down and weathering out
not our wrinkles like on unironed sheets,
but our once fiery hearts that once sounded our beat.
hear our feet pitter patter like a sewing machine
that's been submerged in water and can't mend our seams.
you could call Peter Pan
and forfeit your dreams
but neverneverland
is never what it seems.
-- from October 2010
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Thursday, June 14, 2012
the meaning of music
The many times things get us down,
we resound the sound of the mystique
that when sung aloud can arouse a crowd
to mesmerizing silence or joyful screams.
Music has no bounds. It abounds
and clarifies through sound
the mind's white noise that aims to compete.
But notes numb numbness.
Rhythm rivals regret.
Treble and bass conquer tears and blinding thoughts.
And so we listen, and we listen again for the messages in music.
Melody and harmony coincide to intonation
that corresponds to how we feel inside.
Coherent composition makes those feelings calm,
stifling silence and somber screams.
Music is complete, from the rhythm to the beat.
And, so isn't it ever sweet
that when one's fingers hit the keys,
music responds from A flat to G.
It is in this trail of tone rather than of tears
that inflection that's sincere
dares to shatter sadness.
For when the sound waves hit the walls, music comes to call,
and music is the best medicine of all.
And so when we listen, we escape into songs.
When all this takes place, our brain waves interlace
into phases of sound.
And when sound is the source, music takes its course.
Whether fast or slow, it's here emotions start to flow
as we enter into song.
As we listen, we understand what we've lost and what we've got;
we know our pain and what we've gained.
The performance has attained
its purpose.
So if we're now all in tune, you'll agree
music makes a difference when you learn to listen.
And to those who listen,
if you think sound is the essence of the senses, let's hear your consensus
in applause.
----
Wrote this poem for school (sometime in February) and read it out for my public speaking class.
we resound the sound of the mystique
that when sung aloud can arouse a crowd
to mesmerizing silence or joyful screams.
Music has no bounds. It abounds
and clarifies through sound
the mind's white noise that aims to compete.
But notes numb numbness.
Rhythm rivals regret.
Treble and bass conquer tears and blinding thoughts.
And so we listen, and we listen again for the messages in music.
Melody and harmony coincide to intonation
that corresponds to how we feel inside.
Coherent composition makes those feelings calm,
stifling silence and somber screams.
Music is complete, from the rhythm to the beat.
And, so isn't it ever sweet
that when one's fingers hit the keys,
music responds from A flat to G.
It is in this trail of tone rather than of tears
that inflection that's sincere
dares to shatter sadness.
For when the sound waves hit the walls, music comes to call,
and music is the best medicine of all.
And so when we listen, we escape into songs.
When all this takes place, our brain waves interlace
into phases of sound.
And when sound is the source, music takes its course.
Whether fast or slow, it's here emotions start to flow
as we enter into song.
As we listen, we understand what we've lost and what we've got;
we know our pain and what we've gained.
The performance has attained
its purpose.
So if we're now all in tune, you'll agree
music makes a difference when you learn to listen.
And to those who listen,
if you think sound is the essence of the senses, let's hear your consensus
in applause.
----
Wrote this poem for school (sometime in February) and read it out for my public speaking class.
Thursday, May 24, 2012
sunset
You're whimsical
You're a warrior
You're winding down
like wine's ending.
What we've renewed is rusting, in gold, ever-ending,
-- can we amend it, perhaps extend its stay?
If I could cry tears of fire,
I'd ignite us again,
and enlighten our sun to not set at sunset
because that is the end before daybreak.
-- from November 2010
You're a warrior
You're winding down
like wine's ending.
What we've renewed is rusting, in gold, ever-ending,
-- can we amend it, perhaps extend its stay?
If I could cry tears of fire,
I'd ignite us again,
and enlighten our sun to not set at sunset
because that is the end before daybreak.
-- from November 2010
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
question of design
It is strange how so a space
in which one could once escape
becomes a crowded room so fast,
a resting place that's been erased.
How the mimes all come to life
in this wilted paradise
is a question of design
that is not mine
that is not mine.
-- written January 31st, 2011
in which one could once escape
becomes a crowded room so fast,
a resting place that's been erased.
How the mimes all come to life
in this wilted paradise
is a question of design
that is not mine
that is not mine.
-- written January 31st, 2011
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Evolve
Shattered like the waves;
Impacted by stigma;
Correlated like the gradients
Of colors, like mist
That's white, translucent, transparent,
Invisible -- degraded
As your heart is excruciated
By the light, by the sound, by the source
Of these images,
Notions of life.
Like fires that burn, that are born,
And resound
Are resolved,
We evolve.
Impacted by stigma;
Correlated like the gradients
Of colors, like mist
That's white, translucent, transparent,
Invisible -- degraded
As your heart is excruciated
By the light, by the sound, by the source
Of these images,
Notions of life.
Like fires that burn, that are born,
And resound
Are resolved,
We evolve.
Monday, October 17, 2011
gravitation
Sometimes we gravitate toward souls
Is it a wonder then that ghosts in tuxedos wander the blocks
So domineering in their intent
Their interest to the other
Their purpose not to frighten but brighten like angels do
Webs of gold
Their secrets told
In the interest of doves
What was becomes
A lover
Then sought
Now seeks to find another
Crisis to emerge
The surge of every word
The liquid
Fraught and told.
Is it a wonder then that ghosts in tuxedos wander the blocks
So domineering in their intent
Their interest to the other
Their purpose not to frighten but brighten like angels do
Webs of gold
Their secrets told
In the interest of doves
What was becomes
A lover
Then sought
Now seeks to find another
Crisis to emerge
The surge of every word
The liquid
Fraught and told.
Friday, July 8, 2011
law as song
Memories.
Directories. Registries.
What's written isn't always right.
What's right? Not force.
What's right? Not being coerced into what isn't.
Who's to say what's wrong?
Think of law as song: fluid, ever-changing,
Lucid rearranging,
Crimson resonating.
Wake up and see the darkness
Come to and feel the light
Reach out as we falter
And seal the healing power.
Directories. Registries.
What's written isn't always right.
What's right? Not force.
What's right? Not being coerced into what isn't.
Who's to say what's wrong?
Think of law as song: fluid, ever-changing,
Lucid rearranging,
Crimson resonating.
Wake up and see the darkness
Come to and feel the light
Reach out as we falter
And seal the healing power.
spinning
Clutching tulips
Grasping time
Crunching numbers
Spinning twine
Spinning time
We're on time.
Where are you now?
Sipping water?
Drinking wine?
Wind the clocks so they're correct.
Pet the fox so it won't reject you.
northeast/southwest
southeast/northwest
Hard to say which is best,
But the sun sets in the west.
Dec. 31st, 2010
Grasping time
Crunching numbers
Spinning twine
Spinning time
We're on time.
Where are you now?
Sipping water?
Drinking wine?
Wind the clocks so they're correct.
Pet the fox so it won't reject you.
northeast/southwest
southeast/northwest
Hard to say which is best,
But the sun sets in the west.
Dec. 31st, 2010
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
abstained
There may be no colours in the dark,
But white's a shade that doesn't fade;
It shows the stains.
But had you abstained, I'd never know the difference.
I'll never know the answers,
Though you've left traces
Although by God's grace,
He can't erase
What has gone down.
I just know I'm fractured
As the cracks show
And I well know
Not every king should wear a crown.
-- written January 15th, 2011.
But white's a shade that doesn't fade;
It shows the stains.
But had you abstained, I'd never know the difference.
I'll never know the answers,
Though you've left traces
Although by God's grace,
He can't erase
What has gone down.
I just know I'm fractured
As the cracks show
And I well know
Not every king should wear a crown.
-- written January 15th, 2011.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Blueberry Dream
Went berry picking with mother, in the summer;
She told me, pick the ones that are bright and ripe and juicy.
But I wondered, should we pick the berries
From behind the brambles, too?
And pick the ones that dropped
Up off the ground?
She said, the faded ones,
The rain doesn't reach,
And there are some you shouldn't pick
Like ones from dying trees.
But I thought, if not, they'll hide
And wither with the weather.
So, I went back and popped
A lonely blueberry into my bucket.
Said, the sweetest one mightn't be as blue
As the brightest berry according to you.
Should we try to re-enact
What we now lack?
The common sense of how to lose
By pick and choose.
Don't judge;
There might be a dream you walk into.
She told me, pick the ones that are bright and ripe and juicy.
But I wondered, should we pick the berries
From behind the brambles, too?
And pick the ones that dropped
Up off the ground?
She said, the faded ones,
The rain doesn't reach,
And there are some you shouldn't pick
Like ones from dying trees.
But I thought, if not, they'll hide
And wither with the weather.
So, I went back and popped
A lonely blueberry into my bucket.
Said, the sweetest one mightn't be as blue
As the brightest berry according to you.
Should we try to re-enact
What we now lack?
The common sense of how to lose
By pick and choose.
Don't judge;
There might be a dream you walk into.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
I'd say I knew you better than the fall
And sometimes we say sorry, but
When do we really mean it at all?
When your heated heart of rock explodes,
In your erupting mode, Kilauea,
You're eroding me.
When you're joy's in exhaustion
When your ploys can't be deployed
When you're seven miles from Heaven
And you can't gain exposure
Am I sound? Are you sound? Are you around?
As we're tumbling down these lava walls of yours.
And sometimes we say sorry, but
When do we really mean it at all?
When your heated heart of rock explodes,
In your erupting mode, Kilauea,
You're eroding me.
When you're joy's in exhaustion
When your ploys can't be deployed
When you're seven miles from Heaven
And you can't gain exposure
Am I sound? Are you sound? Are you around?
As we're tumbling down these lava walls of yours.
Reassessment
Well, have you lost the sacred
As you try to reassess?
I know you mean to mend the madness,
But you're bringing back the dead.
They've gone out of town,
They passed yesteryear,
And have traveled light years
Just to end up back here.
Let's demean our demons;
God, let's get out of here,
And make a masterpiece
If the Magdalene agrees.
As you try to reassess?
I know you mean to mend the madness,
But you're bringing back the dead.
They've gone out of town,
They passed yesteryear,
And have traveled light years
Just to end up back here.
Let's demean our demons;
God, let's get out of here,
And make a masterpiece
If the Magdalene agrees.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Question all the trees
Why won't you question all
the trees, darling,
Don't say they're hidden
by the leaves.
Branches can't bind the
blasphemy
that they say you planted
with that seed.
Strange to know those
swaying soldiers
saunter so strongly in
the wind.
They say before Cartier
found Gaspe,
he fought a raging
storm at sea.
You always think you can run, but
some things are rooted.
Run, go on, faster than
the wind.
Reckless redemption
rages while
righteousness
riles me.
Maybe you know that, or
maybe you can't see
that when in fall the leaves fall,
they blow and circle me.
Teasing treason,
trusting temptation,
tragic traces,
temperatures raising.
the trees, darling,
Don't say they're hidden
by the leaves.
Branches can't bind the
blasphemy
that they say you planted
with that seed.
Strange to know those
swaying soldiers
saunter so strongly in
the wind.
They say before Cartier
found Gaspe,
he fought a raging
storm at sea.
You always think you can run, but
some things are rooted.
Run, go on, faster than
the wind.
Reckless redemption
rages while
righteousness
riles me.
Maybe you know that, or
maybe you can't see
that when in fall the leaves fall,
they blow and circle me.
Teasing treason,
trusting temptation,
tragic traces,
temperatures raising.
Keeper of old stories
Hey, we're through the alley,
running farther away, hey,
heading to the forest;
that's where the soul lives.
Say, isn't that the cantadora's story?
She's keeper of old stories...
Well, we're bounding through the arts,
bonding broken stars and bleeding hearts.
running farther away, hey,
heading to the forest;
that's where the soul lives.
Say, isn't that the cantadora's story?
She's keeper of old stories...
Well, we're bounding through the arts,
bonding broken stars and bleeding hearts.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Reach
Well, if she's alive,
Don't leave her...
No, darling,
Don't try to back away...
If she's beyond what you
Believe is your reach,
Just reach, and reach,
You'll prosper, I preach.
And when do we know
Where we're going?
Will you be holding her hand?
Well, just behold,
Wait, we'll find out
As it unfolds, you'll find
Out, and I know
You'll get out if you keep on.
Fly, fly, my bluebird,
Those eyes can entice
Anyone you want.
Fly, fly, my bluebird,
Pretty bird,
Yes, I know,
You've found
Someone you like.
Don't leave her...
No, darling,
Don't try to back away...
If she's beyond what you
Believe is your reach,
Just reach, and reach,
You'll prosper, I preach.
And when do we know
Where we're going?
Will you be holding her hand?
Well, just behold,
Wait, we'll find out
As it unfolds, you'll find
Out, and I know
You'll get out if you keep on.
Fly, fly, my bluebird,
Those eyes can entice
Anyone you want.
Fly, fly, my bluebird,
Pretty bird,
Yes, I know,
You've found
Someone you like.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
not quite a trilogy
And the birds,
in the red,
they are calling,
in midst of the fractured moon.
And what do you tell the others
when the mother's in the forest,
but she's glazed and glides (away to the glade)?
Catch a glimpse of the water
as she sways and slides,
soars into an angry swirl
of adventure, of human nature,
that has disrupted nature's calling.
And we're falling;
she's frightened you.
And after you're so frightened
you'll call on the father (on the father).
When we leave our nests astray
whispers sweep over the fire,
leaves and branches decay.
And the fires are fine --
we'll take them --
as long as they don't take us,
cast away our identity,
or cast away our destiny.
in the red,
they are calling,
in midst of the fractured moon.
And what do you tell the others
when the mother's in the forest,
but she's glazed and glides (away to the glade)?
Catch a glimpse of the water
as she sways and slides,
soars into an angry swirl
of adventure, of human nature,
that has disrupted nature's calling.
And we're falling;
she's frightened you.
And after you're so frightened
you'll call on the father (on the father).
When we leave our nests astray
whispers sweep over the fire,
leaves and branches decay.
And the fires are fine --
we'll take them --
as long as they don't take us,
cast away our identity,
or cast away our destiny.
Monday, March 22, 2010
"Please, sir, I want some more."
Well, well, Oliver Twist,
all of a twisted tale...
What a twisted tale,
denied more gruel,
what grueling circumstance...
Well, won't you join me?
Dance the last dance of Fagin,
Ensure the bridge will break...
Nancy, she'll defy the thieves,
and you, Oliver, might be free...
-----
Haven't seen the play for about 8 years, but these lyrics came to me in the shower last night, and are still in the works, I suppose...
all of a twisted tale...
What a twisted tale,
denied more gruel,
what grueling circumstance...
Well, won't you join me?
Dance the last dance of Fagin,
Ensure the bridge will break...
Nancy, she'll defy the thieves,
and you, Oliver, might be free...
-----
Haven't seen the play for about 8 years, but these lyrics came to me in the shower last night, and are still in the works, I suppose...
Monday, March 8, 2010
trinitarian
oh, trinitarian
of your scandal,
yes, that pretty girl was scared
of your unity,
yes, that little girl was shy
we sometimes
shred memories
when doctrine is sharp
well, sometimes we shed,
or do we bury them far
as you reach farther, father
confession won't scrap the wrath
that scrapes the edge of my heart
oh, trinitarian
of your scandal,
yes, that pretty girl was scared
of your unity
yes, that little girl was shy
Joseph was the father
so if you're the father, son, and holy spirit
you hold the power to
wash my holy water
from your hands
oh, trinitarian
of your scandal,
yes, that pretty girl was scared
of your unity
yes, that little girl was shy
oh, trinitarian
impurity by three
that hurt me
-----
Support the fight to end violence against women this International Women's Day.
Please donate to RAINN.
of your scandal,
yes, that pretty girl was scared
of your unity,
yes, that little girl was shy
we sometimes
shred memories
when doctrine is sharp
well, sometimes we shed,
or do we bury them far
as you reach farther, father
confession won't scrap the wrath
that scrapes the edge of my heart
oh, trinitarian
of your scandal,
yes, that pretty girl was scared
of your unity
yes, that little girl was shy
Joseph was the father
so if you're the father, son, and holy spirit
you hold the power to
wash my holy water
from your hands
oh, trinitarian
of your scandal,
yes, that pretty girl was scared
of your unity
yes, that little girl was shy
oh, trinitarian
impurity by three
that hurt me
-----
Support the fight to end violence against women this International Women's Day.
Please donate to RAINN.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
peace bond
don't want to bind you
but you struck me by your will,
on your own, on your way
out to desecrate
now we're gone
but are we done?
or are we bound
by some bond?
that's why I say...
oh, will a peace bond help me?
or will it only resurrect what's left?
maybe baby when you consecrate
you can reconstruct the ways,
the ways you struck;
haunt and heal your only ways
how could you say
"don't live beyond your means"
when you always want another?
im sure as your condition fluctuates
she'll not be your lover,
but do anything to restrict
your construction
as liquid impersonates and
builds your karmic prison tower
she'll say
oh, will a peace bond help me?
or will it only resurrect what's left?
maybe baby when you consecrate
you can reconstruct the ways,
the ways you struck;
haunt and heal your only ways
and if we sign a peace bond,
you'll be gone,
but we'll be bound
but by the time
you come around
you can't come around
this ordination
so maybe a peace bond will help us;
it might resurrect what's left
but baby when you consecrate
you can reconstruct the ways,
the ways you struck;
haunt and heal your only ways
but you struck me by your will,
on your own, on your way
out to desecrate
now we're gone
but are we done?
or are we bound
by some bond?
that's why I say...
oh, will a peace bond help me?
or will it only resurrect what's left?
maybe baby when you consecrate
you can reconstruct the ways,
the ways you struck;
haunt and heal your only ways
how could you say
"don't live beyond your means"
when you always want another?
im sure as your condition fluctuates
she'll not be your lover,
but do anything to restrict
your construction
as liquid impersonates and
builds your karmic prison tower
she'll say
oh, will a peace bond help me?
or will it only resurrect what's left?
maybe baby when you consecrate
you can reconstruct the ways,
the ways you struck;
haunt and heal your only ways
and if we sign a peace bond,
you'll be gone,
but we'll be bound
but by the time
you come around
you can't come around
this ordination
so maybe a peace bond will help us;
it might resurrect what's left
but baby when you consecrate
you can reconstruct the ways,
the ways you struck;
haunt and heal your only ways
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
bonding. sacred. bound.
If my heart breaks, do you win?
If it's silent, does God win?
Do we fade in and out like the lamplight
relative to the sun,
captured in nightfall's black hands?
Bonding...
Sacred...
Bonding...
Sacred...
Bound?
Did I sigh out loud,
or is my misery
a mystery of the rosary?
Does rain fall at nightfall
through black open storm clouds
that are God sent,
but what's a Godsend?
Is that just you and I?
Bonding.
Sacred.
Bonding.
Sacred.
Bound.
---
September 14th, 2009
If it's silent, does God win?
Do we fade in and out like the lamplight
relative to the sun,
captured in nightfall's black hands?
Bonding...
Sacred...
Bonding...
Sacred...
Bound?
Did I sigh out loud,
or is my misery
a mystery of the rosary?
Does rain fall at nightfall
through black open storm clouds
that are God sent,
but what's a Godsend?
Is that just you and I?
Bonding.
Sacred.
Bonding.
Sacred.
Bound.
---
September 14th, 2009
Monday, February 8, 2010
before it all
when we wake up inside
do we feel these walls
as we rush away,
sweet and sane --
are you now? --
as you are
running down
our place,
do we decay
like gardens
before spring,
empty, as a vase
held wilted flowers
of my sex?
do we feel these walls
as we rush away,
sweet and sane --
are you now? --
as you are
running down
our place,
do we decay
like gardens
before spring,
empty, as a vase
held wilted flowers
of my sex?
Friday, February 5, 2010
calm
The calm beneath the storm, the wind beneath the waves that keeps them rolling... how you been? Was what I meant to say tarnished in water and whitewashed that day in the sand, in your grain, in the harvest hour, where we were ridiculed, but found what we desired? By the storm, by the eve when the saviour did lay, there in His house did the goddesses pray?
-----
November 3rd, 2009
-----
November 3rd, 2009
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
to inflect
You seem to know what I'm up against;
You seem to know what I'm standing for;
(Why) Is this between us?
What I believe in,
Has it conquered what I felt before?
Are we drowning in empty waters as I conjugate your verbs?
(Why) Is this what we squander? They're only words.
Maybe what you're looking for isn't in the dictionary;
Maybe its parallel was lost at sea.
When you see what's going to be,
Well, maybe then there'll be belief,
relief, and benefit.
You seem to know what I'm standing for;
(Why) Is this between us?
What I believe in,
Has it conquered what I felt before?
Are we drowning in empty waters as I conjugate your verbs?
(Why) Is this what we squander? They're only words.
Maybe what you're looking for isn't in the dictionary;
Maybe its parallel was lost at sea.
When you see what's going to be,
Well, maybe then there'll be belief,
relief, and benefit.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
games
When we all join in, as stagnant as it seems, what's the signal?
Riding the merry-go-round, "Oh, horsey, won't you gallop to my white knight, Lady Peace?"
And are the pieces to our puzzle hidden in Pandora's box?
When we battle must we always strike another match?
Or, so it seems, as I said, as stagnant as this seems,
We're under London Bridge...
We're in the Ring around the Rosie...
Riding the merry-go-round, "Oh, horsey, won't you gallop to my white knight, Lady Peace?"
And are the pieces to our puzzle hidden in Pandora's box?
When we battle must we always strike another match?
Or, so it seems, as I said, as stagnant as this seems,
We're under London Bridge...
We're in the Ring around the Rosie...
Friday, January 22, 2010
circumstance
Perhaps it's senseless in a sense that we're stranded when we're not, and bound when homeward bound. How circumstance becomes a razor sharp blade even at its best is questionable because when that blade turns to ice and cracks and shatters, how solid is it really? Are we really always tied and bound to circumstance, the queen of bondage? Or, is it more so that we falter and cry like the black raven by the riverside?
----
June 1st, 2009
----
June 1st, 2009
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Saturday, January 16, 2010
An introduction...
Welcome. I have had multiple classmates and professors recommend I start something along these lines.
Here I will post my writing in the works, pieces from the past, and whatever else I decide. My writing is lyrical poetry and prose. Keep in mind that I write what comes, and it is more general than personal. I usually am inspired in the shower, or when walking through a forest or near a cemetery...
My writing is unconventional and strong. It is at times obscure I am sure, but always interesting I hope. It is protected under copyright law.
I am interested in thoughts, feelings, constructive criticism, and publishing opportunities.
Here I will post my writing in the works, pieces from the past, and whatever else I decide. My writing is lyrical poetry and prose. Keep in mind that I write what comes, and it is more general than personal. I usually am inspired in the shower, or when walking through a forest or near a cemetery...
My writing is unconventional and strong. It is at times obscure I am sure, but always interesting I hope. It is protected under copyright law.
I am interested in thoughts, feelings, constructive criticism, and publishing opportunities.
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