Wind through

open window whistles silently;
swift, elegant drapery
brilliant beams of light
into peaceful calamity within.

House lives on – empty,
dead skin rises from wine glass cabinet
dust bunnies fight over territory
no hint but silence.

Gust gone,
all settles
crow looks in from window sill.

Everything still since blast,
as it will stay, as will he.

Single plume rose,
meeting with dusk.

————-

This is indeed a revision of an old poem I wrote, Wind. I revised it to submit to Miambiance Volume XXI, the award-winning literary magazine for Miami Dade College – Kendall Campus, and it was accepted!

Feathers and Wax

Body plummets
through clouds;
wind blasting against face.
Cheeks fill and parachute,
but don’t slow it.
Mouth dry-
like his emptied red eyes.
To him the ground rises,
the earth impossibly rushing upward.
His body free in space,
but restricted in direction.
From a distance she watches;
falling to or from her isn’t clear,
but he is Icarus for her.

Occupy Wall Street

As you may or may not know, I make a video for the Harry Potter Alliance’s YouTube channel every Monday. Last Monday I spoke about what is going on with Occupy Wall Street.

Find out more about Occupy Wall Street: http://occupywallst.org
Find out more about the HPA: http://thehpa.org

Politicks

The sun is setting, don’t know where i’m heading.
Going to strum, ’til I figure out where i’m from.
Read and write, feed and fight,
but don’t run unless it’s for fun.
’cause poli-ticks’ full of blood sucking Ricks.
I’d rather have fought than gather and argue, great Scott!
So I make a change
while they debate and exchange.
Blue and red much and the same,
neither gives slack to save their name.
Song and poetry, action and creativity.
The man with the wig and wooden hammer’s just a symbol,
we’ve got the real power.
So they throw money into a hole labeled ‘campaign’,
we’re chipping away at the country’s chain.
Burning and breaking is child’s play,
strumming and solution seeking’s the right way.

Going to Nowhere

For a while nearly silent
save for the sound of the rain beating on the road
drops of light-reflecting water plopping on the windows
its monotonous sound paralleling our liaison.
Sneaking peaks at your imitation of a peaceful expression
affording the looks, not a damned soul before me
nothing but following a stillicide in the wind to distract me.

Not a single human sound wave echoing between us
and you think I can’t see the infrequent glances
but I can feel them, can feel the longing.
Stale. Heading for something of a bleak coda
a reprise of your childhood firsthand.
I look down at my faded gray slacks
the rainfall on the windshield perfectly emulated.

Going forth, but into what is unknown
It’s as if we’ve been together all this time,
But Nowhere is still where we find ourselves.
I turn on the cruise control as the storm thickens
and the headlights illuminate wearily before us.
The shadows of drops become a stream
A small cough from you and nothing follows.

I don’t want to go where we’re going
But I think we’re already there and the rain is blinding
We have to stop, we can’t see where we’re going.
It’s been the same in your eyes since you were a child,
Only now it’s you and I playing out the scenes.
Now I’m pulling over to the side,
To stop us from going to Nowhere.

With and Without (a song about Paper Towns)

My amazing friend Blaze (a.k.a. suchducks) made my poem With and Without, which I wrote about Paper Towns, into a song! I think it’s wonderful that she was able to do that with my poem and really bring it to life musically. Go check out all of her covers and original songs here: http://youtube.com/suchducks

The Great Bard of England

~

So I just wrote a sonnet, jeez you start to wonder why he didn’t lose it
Letting those out, each one a work of art.
Bet you’re wondering who I’m talking about, you’ll see in a bit;
Everything you read and watch derived from him, words in all nations’ heart.
Yeah, he’s an old fart; yeah his famous lover was a real sweetheart, oh yes
In his time and now, he’s the best; a master of prose.
He can squeeze a rhyme out of any situation, checkmate in a game of prosaic chess.
And when your poems start with the color of a rose …
Your English teachers love him even more
But I haven’t told you whom, oh dear
Let me show you with my rhymes, that’s what I’ve got in store.

I’ve got a steak, pass me a beer
Can you bake while you steer?
Are you fake? When I talk do you quake in fear?
Does it make you shed a small tear?
Yes, I think you’ve got the point now
If you haven’t figured it out, don’t fret; you’re probably just illiterate.

Pay close attention, to how I end my wordS
What happened to the end rhyme, thougH?
My wordy magic’s gone, ran out of literary manA
Nope, I just can’t match him, I keep drawing scissors and he’s a rocK
His ideas are sturdy; they’ve survived the test of timE
My best idea is always my worst, there’s not one I don’t want to tosS
And I dig a hole in my mind for inspiration but it’s gotten too deeP
The motivation mountain is too steep, but giving up’s not a characteristic of minE
Him? If his writing were medicine you’d swear it could cure malariA
I hope you’re plenty confused; you might be ready to strike me with a speaR
My intellect’s beyond yours and you might want to give your lance a good shakE.

——–

Don’t take this too seriously, it’s not supposed to be.

A Lyrical Bonnet for the Crown on My Sonnet Swollen Skull

Look here, this makes no sense, I’m sure you’ll see.
I guess the rent I’ll pay with this … I hope
“Despite those things that say I won’t,” said he
“I write to say all of my thoughts … elope
I shan’t to the critique they give of it.”
Rant away ‘bout flaws in my rhetoric
Pout while I wrap you in lyrical whit,
Just spitting out rhymes; it’s no magic trick.
But I need a muse something more than booze,
More than promise of a dime or moonshine
Perhaps of a kiss or lack-thereof-blues.
From lips to fingertips I make words mine
I know … I’m humble. Nope, I’m not verbose,
Not D.F.W., keep your rope, Lowes.

—–

This is my first attempt at a Shakespearean sonnet, let me know what you think please.

Northern Flee

In the distance there burns a bright red fire
it beckons me and I yearn for it
and here there blows a cold breeze
I hide, but it freezes me.

So I sit and I wait for the day,
that I, grown and studied,
may move on towards the flame
and defrost.

I’ll gather with friends and dance
’round the glow and the warmth
and I’ll see their faces shining and grinning
spinning around until we’re surrounding embers.

What I’ll leave behind is a degenerating city
a trail of ice becoming water and evaporating,
forming steam over my new home
as I do transpose in glee.

Thoughts of Mine, Part 2: With You

Flurry of thoughts rush through my head
every part of my brain working
at a million miles per hour!
Then our lips part.

I thought my mind would not survive
the rush of emotions and hormones
bursting from that feeling,
of your lips against mine.

In that single moment I could feel every curvature,
every crevice
and the blood pumping from the pressure,
what strange beauty.

You’ve proven the impossible to me
and put new passions behind my words,
a word I’d expelled as a child
rekindled.