Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Ensemble - Poem written in mid to late 1990's

A sad light shines on the stock-still doll,
immobile by a stock-still pond.
His clothing soaked and glistening,
thin threads holding their bond.
The water slowly shimmers,
vibrating to a song.
Out comes a stunning creature,
her character quaint and strong.
She enters his lone fantasy,
and drifts to where he lay.
Wild colors bridge through his insanity,
a light to guide his way.
Is this a dream?
Can it be real?
His mind races for a sign.
He closes his eyes,
dives through dark shadows,
with someone there to find.
They hold one another,
meshing arms,
a light grows in his heart.
If this is a dream,
with passion there,
then never shall they part.

I Love New York - Poem written for class - 11/28/2000

The drone of bees hummed in the streets.
Time became a God within the subconscious.
Faith became a sign set in numbers and names.
Looking at the faces, I searched for my savior,
but all the blank stares held a cloning behavior.
A brush of the shoulder and an simple "hello",
would put me in motion,
my green light to go.
But all that I see are limbless figures,
with no mouths to breathe.
A city of eyes in the shadows of billboards.
Decay is accepted in this city of hives,
where survival becomes an object,
and simplicity is forgotten.
Hidden beneath the high rise structures,
the steeples and chapels
echo lost lectures.
Drowned away by the humming of the hives,
where time is our Lord,
and currency is our lives.
Hail Mary, mother of manhattan.

High and Low - Poem done for class, based on Escher's Up and Down lithograph piece - 11/28/2000

In the highs and lows
mirrors reflect those that are hidden.
Shadows walk and talk with me,
but never hide me in the darkness.
whether there is snow on the ground,
wind in the air,
or water in a reservoir,
I'm surrounded by reflections.
And no matter how hard I try
to see both high and low,
front and back,
or side to side,
I know that all is just a reflection,
and that one day those reflections
will be stretched into just the highs,
or maybe just the lows,
but also,
the in between.

What I Am - Poem written in late 1990's, early 2000's

I fear.
I fear what I am, how I stare at my reflection,
and asking why?
Why do I look as I do,
as I move, and for whom?
What style of eyes shed blinding cries,
a face I just don't know.
An awkward nose, thin frame of mine,
and hair that'll never cease to grow.
I am a victim once again,
of a natural cry,
to touch, to pry,
forever I ask why?
In space I flee,
a comet led by a force with a smile,
a smile meant for me.
Space dents its prints so peacefully,
and shaped for souls unborn.
What do I fear but unknown saints,
whom I scorn.
Why do they play with the sharpest of blades,
pricking an unfit belly where lint takes its collection.
A vessel for the spirit world,
a robot built to perfection.
For whom, I ask.
For why?
I just don't know.

Mystery - Poem written in late 1990's, almost became lyrics, but didn't

Floating high above the clouds,
the mountains are all I see.
Neanderthal-like visionary,
time clashes far and free.
A mystery of life's cruel ways,
two years of destiny.
Chaos playing its puppetry,
Mankind beneath the strings.
If only my heart could speak,
the truth would flow in red,
of a mystery so painful,
the stabbing words I dread.
The nurturing of energy,
the gift of purity.
Above the clouds,
sun shine on me,
far from reality.
Trapped within Man's selfishness,
I scroll the soul to be.
Caught in my own technology,
I am a mystery.

Bitten - Poem written in late 1990's

Bitten by an angry spider,
I fled for Fate's open arms.
Attacked, struck, bitten,
by an enemy I did not choose,
a dwarfed soul to humanity,
whose cavern I invade.
The darkness swells,
night draping cold arms about me.
Cradled in a force of blackened night,
I am bitten once again.
Caressed by a web of shadows I invaded,
I destroyed.
The tears of my enemy are felt piercing my skin,
as its teeth sink deep within.
I am touched  by a soul greater, broader than mine.
An untaught heart thumping before me.
I cry in my wisdom of stupidity,
As I am struck again, and again...
As I feel my enemy's warmth,
tears flowing peacefully,
the fangs sheath once again,
and my aggressor rises above on a string of light,
disappearing into its darkened haven above.
I am free once more, to breath the air, touch the sky.
Free of the darkened torment of an enemy I once feared,
but now understand.

Sea of Grass - Poem written in late 1990's

Gazing into purple skies,
stars silhouette my frame.
Silver moons crash into space,
God playing his cruel game.
Capricorn's slide up my thigh,
as I dive into a dream.
Submerged beneath a shallow pool
of blood-spoiled yogurt cream.
A shot of life exerts from me,
oozing through my pores.
I scream the silence of my agony,
sealed behind closed doors.
Reaching for an open sky,
I drown in my own fear.
Crashing into the empty space
I once thought was unclear.

Caught Prose piece - Something I wrote in the late 1990's

Threads of life pull at my veins, yet I manage to smile.  Is it happiness?  Do I ride the wave of life in its caressing flows, or do I crash at a reef beyond the tide, that extends for eternity?  As I am victimized by my uncontrollable sucking of air, I find myself asking, why?  Why do all these questions of life attack my mind with a spiteful smile?  Why can't I watch a football game, talk of memories, or drink a beer without asking, "where is it all leading to and why?"  I found that "why" is the most difficult question to answer, not, is there a God, or for that matter, where does the universe end?  No, just one question, "why".  Am I an idiot for asking "why", rather than calculating a mathematical problem to its infinite square?  As the world spins and ellipses around the sun, three-hundred and sixty five times in one year, while the naughty moon hovers exposed, naked before us, I ask "why"?  As I ask, I find that I am spinning rapidly, dizzying with every rotation, space warping a world in three dimensions while energy tears through us, vibrating erratically, spread between us, before us, I am caught.  Caught in a web of technology, where I am taught how to drink, dress, shit, and tie my shoes.  I'm tired.

Arched - Poem written in late 1990's

Immortalized by ruby eyes,
I give birth to perfection.
Weeping with its infant eyes,
warm tears reveal reflections.
Smoke filled eyes gaze upon my
iron carcass child.
Silicon heart and organ wheels,
work forces from the wild.
Blood drips down its porcelain back,
gas fed from droid to droid.
I arch into the blinding light,
and enter my dark void.

Double Down Bubble Gum – Published in Amalgamae Magazine – March of 2006 - The Magazine had only one issue, but it paid for my story, and it was in hardcopy form also!

Professor Callous sat in the darkness of the cabin, clutching the steering wheel with clammy hands that slicked the leather circle.  He touched the warm, moist bandage on his chest, feeling the fresh stitches that hid the weapon just above his heart.  Beneath the layers was an unstable microchip that slowly began its break down, cascading atoms inward into a digital spiral of condensed nuclear reactions.  It ticked soundlessly but the warming of his chest signaled the count down of the tiny bomb.  It was a bomb like no other, built from digital nano-techs coupled with cellular constructs in the human body.
            In the passenger seat was his first and last book.  His sickly green hand caressed the raised text, feeling it like Braille, “Things Forgotten:  A Reflection of Humanities Lost Morality, by Professor Shawn Callous”.  The chip was rapidly decaying his cells, contaminating his body with radioactivity.  Time was running out now.  In the rear view mirror his eyes stared into themselves.  The tears were soft and green as they streamed down his face.  He grabbed the book, holding it against his chest.
            “I’m doing the right thing, right?  Yes, yes.  Every fallen city, every fallen world has risen anew, a better place.  I’m doing what must be done,” his voice crackled, mixed with tears and phlegm.
            The car headlights led the way ahead, forming a warm pocket of light that the professor desperately wanted to be engulfed him, but an intruder obstructed his path and he slammed on the brakes.


            Leon stuffed four pieces of gum in his mouth like a child and tossed the yellow package away.  Richie was beside him pulling out a blanketed corpse from the trunk.
            “Leo, quit fucking around and grab his legs for Christ sake!”
Leon’s lips smacked a “Sure boss.”
It was an empty, dark and quiet night staged for the mobsters and their mischievous ways.  Trees on either side of the road stood as jury in the darkness, the moon judging from high above.  Moonlight bathed them with its rays, contrasting the scene in hard darks and whites. 
Leon’s labored breathing was a sign of his obesity, and Richie nicknamed him “Chubby Fingers” which circulated quickly among his fellow Mafiosi.  Oppositely, Richie was small and thin with large strong hands which earned him the name “Butternuts” for reasons only a man would understand.
“Jeez Richie, this place never gets good.  It’s always spooky out here.”  The smell of dead leaves and soil lingered in the darkness.  Leon looked around wondering if the old horror stories of the Fire Beast that burned people with black fire in these woods could have been true.  He shivered at the thought.
Richie burst into laughter.  “You scared?”  He almost dropped the body from the laughing.  “What could be worse than us out here?” 
He led them down into a dark patch of high grass a few feet into the woods. Like a creature of the night he could find anything in the dark.  It was a respectable instinct that made him one of the deadliest hit men on the east coast.
“All right Chubbs, just fucking drop him.  My arms are hurting already.”
“Hey Rich, why we leave the flashlight back there?”
“Leo, if I can see someone out here, then someone out here can see me.  You know what I mean?”  But the fat man didn’t.
“The car, you fucking idiot, the car.  If some cop or state trooper stops by our car, and no ones in there, then they’ll look around the trees.  If no lights are in the trees, no cop is in the trees.  Got it?  They don’t see us 'cause we’ll be hiding,” Richie tapped Leon on the Forehead.
For a few seconds, both were silent before Leon replied.
“Okay by me.”
Richie sighed, “Let’s go numb nuts.”
            “Uh, should we cover up the guy?  Someone will find him out here boss.”
            “Who gives a fuck Chubbs, fuck him.  The fucking rat bastard deserves to be eaten by something out here.”
            They walked back to the car with the faint light of the moon as a guide.  Richie searched the trunk for any belongings of the deceased.
            “All right, Leo, get me the flashlight, I can’t see crap back here.”
Leon grabbed the flashlight from the driver’s side and brought it to him.  The flashlight accidentally clicked on while he was opening a fresh pack of gum, blinding Richie.
            “Fucking Christ!”  Richie smacked the flashlight and gum from his hands, sending them hurling into the street.
            “Oops,” cried Leon.  He ignored the flashlight and went for the strewn pieces of gum still tucked in their silver foils, lying in the middle of the street.
Neither of them noticed the two spherical headlights emerging from the darkness down the road.
            “Oh shit.  Leo!”


            The car screeched to a halt, missing Leon by a foot.  He got up and backed away from the car.  Richie quickly grabbed the flashlight from the ground and switched it off, his other hand grasping the butt of a pistol in his jacket.  It was too dark to see the man’s face in detail but the glow from his eyes and body was like nothing they’ve seen before.
            “A ghost,” whispered Leon.
Butternuts didn’t believe in ghosts, but something was strange about this person, something cold and empty.  “The eyes” thought Richie. They were like two flaming sapphire stones pitted in a hollow face.  Glossy reptilian-like skin bounced back the moons rays giving the figure a green aura.  The man had an object held against his chest.
            “Something ain’t right,” whispered Richie.  He slowly slid the gun from holster and cocked back the hammer.
            “Wait,” Leon kept moving backwards until he bumped into their car.  “Just, just let him go.  He’s sick or something.”
            There was a few seconds silence, broken only by the sound of night critters and the lonely whistling of the wind.  Then the car sped off into the dark road ahead, vanishing within seconds.  The two stood in silence.  Richie sighed with relief his grip still on the gun.  He caught sight of the silver gum sticks twinkling like stars against the black asphalt.  “Something”, he thought “wasn’t right”.


            Professor callous watched the two men from his rearview.
            “Bloody demons almost ruined everything,” he snickered in a raspy voice.  A vicious cough almost sent him off the road.  The smell of ammonia and burning plastic permeated the car.  He looked down and realized the smell was coming from the green glowing mucous from his coughs.  Looking in the mirror was like looking at a glowing creature from the abyss, with its self-sufficient light as its guide.  He thought, like the energy of those sea creatures, his own body’s “light” pulsed in his veins as cells in his blood, giving life to this unique and special, cybernetic bomb; powerful and undetectable.  No one could find him or it.
            From out of the darkness and over a hill rose the final stop, the Emerald city.  He was too weak to clap and bounce with happiness, but his heart burned with joy.
            The inner city was alive with human activity.  “Like bugs,” he thought.
Seconds later the “bug bomb” clicked, imploding into a finite point before exploding like a mini-supernova.  The professor smiled.  He was free from the darkness, swallowed by the warmth of the light.


            Leon whistled an unknown tune as they drove to the city.  Richie sat quietly in the passenger seat in a deep “thinking” quiet; a breathless trance separate from the outside world.  Chubbs tried to break the mood, never having witnessed his cohort like this before.
            “Umm, hey Rich, what did the umm, chicken say to the, uh… no wait, what did…you…” Chubby Fingers scratched his head and spent the next few minutes in his own “thinking” quiet.  He began beating his fingers on the steering wheel rhythmically with the whistling.
            “Leo shut the fuck up please.”  He wasn’t asking but demanding for the silence.
            “I know it’s the guy, huh?  Yeah, he spooked me too boss.”  The Fire Beast ran through Leon’s mind.
            “Just drive Leo, alright?  Don’t fucking talk to me.”  He lied.  He did want to talk about it but what would he say?  Fear was not an option in their line of work but something gnawed and chewed deep within him.
            Leon found a couple of sticks of Juicy Fruit in the glove box and shoveled them in his mouth.  The gum relaxed the large killer, freeing him from thought and numbing him to the world.  Like a telepath he offered a stick of gum without any words.  Richie Gladly accepted.


            The cityscape was bright red with traces of yellows bubbling in its center like an artificial dawn.  The two reapers of death would have been angels of mercy for the city, which now burned and bled innocent lives.  If Richie had only pulled the trigger, thousands would have been sacrificed.  But how could he have known a maniac set out to destroy his hometown?  Maybe a stick of gum could have satisfied the professor and he would have reconsidered his actions.  Gum for a gun?  Makes you wonder.

Monday, February 15, 2010

My Treasure - Poem written in 02/07/1997

I sail across a marble sky,
through blinding lights,
and unfit nights.
Through speeds that time cannot unfold,
your fragile soul I aim to hold.
Through tunnels smoked with passionate love,
through winds which sail the sky above.
I struggle with the stars to see,
to get to you my tre'jouli.

Through Gentle Breeze - Poem written 02/07/1997

I age away so tenderly,
for nothing is what it seems.
The stones of time I will recall,
yet the bloodless cries will shine of all,
and in the soft and gentle breeze,
the light of life,
will spread disease.
The pulsing comes so peacefully,
through marble skies,
across the seas,
through fascist lies,
through gentle breeze.

The Alley - 10 word poem, written in mid to late 1990's

My alley is my kingdom,
and the shadows are my minions.
Blessed by the spirits,
I'm trapped in this dungeon.
The cats are my protectors,
from the bright realm of reality.
No one dares enter,
my blood stained fantasy.
The sewage stench penetrated
my nostrils to my vertebrae,
and the barricade to reality
began to decay.
Violence and sex began to form a bridge,
into my alley,
violating my beautiful wreckage.
There was a string of light,
that lit up my alley,
fading away,
my realm of fantasy.

Pure Energy Poem (inspired by film Akira) - Written sometime in the mid to late 1990's

I rule my domain,
I'm king of the mountain,
but it's all garbage.
I still have the power,
I rose from the flames.
I've done the destruction,
I've taken the blames.
You think I'm a loser,
It's not my fault I was smaller,
but now is the day,
now it's my time!
I lost all my friends,
I just have my power,
but I can't control it,
it warps by the hour.
The people are stirring,
there is another one that's stronger,
I must find him now,
this one they call War Monger.
Come on, bring him on, the one they call Ran.
I can take on the world!
But I'm not who I was anymore,
my soul is an empty void.
All I am, all I was,
is now gone forever.
They chant the praising hymns,
"Rasera!" is what I hear.
I'm fading from you now,
The power is what I fear.

Ballad of School Poem - Written sometime in High School

I feel like crap,
I didn't study,
Am I going insane?
Too much homework,
math and science,
could do damage to my brain.
The only school I can relate to is a school of fish.
I have one request, to be smart,
that is my only wish.
I don't need school,
I have a job,
sweeping and mopping floors.
My future is set,
crystal clear,
of a world I never explore.

PAIN - Title-down Poem - Written sometime in the mid to late 1990's

Power can be obtained through
Anger or excite.
Invincibility is an example of eternal power and might.
Nothing is the power that sheds the darkened light.

Cry The Beloved Country Poem - Title-down Poem written in High School

Clearly a mistake,
Races should work together.
Your mistaken if you

Think, we
Haven't helped each other.
Enough is enough, all is well.

Blinded by my color, I'm
Engulfed by your hate,
Living freely is
Offensive to your
Valuable estate.
Equality isn't
Determined by the

Color of our skin, but
Of the
Universal language, that is
Neutralized within.
Together we can
Recreate what
Yesterday has done.

From Dawn Till Dusk - This is a link to a published prose piece I wrote, published on

Thousand Years Rest - Published in 1998 SVA anthology

A rush of excitement,
filled up his chest.
He finally awoke,
from his thousand year rest.

He stood high as a mountaintop,
with wings fully grown.
Free from the hidden,
Valley of Stone.

"Behold I am Satan,
honor my words."
But no one listened,
no one heard.
For the mortals had no interest
in being disturbed.

He sipped flowing magma,
his heart still and broken.
He didn't feel sacred,
his words had been spoken.

He wiped off his tears,
he was very depressed.
And he lay under blue skies,
for a thousand year rest.