Thursday, July 10, 2008

Ghazals are Really Hard to Write.

Patriotism Revisited.

Perceiving a life with nothing to gain? That hits me hard.

Seeing a future go straight down the drain? That hits me hard.

These are the sights no one ever wants to believe, behold.

Witnessing innocent children in pain? That hits me hard.

All the lies that journalists send to print, ignoring facts,

Like detecting corruption; unjust reign? That hits me hard.

Politicians hiding behind their fancy suits, lying

About care for families of the slain? That hits me hard.

Soldiers firing at anything that moves through their patrol,

They cannot fathom the foreigner’s strain. That hits me hard.

Citizens rallying for them to stay and continue,

Not believing what statistics contain? That hits me hard.

But those of us who fight for what we know is just and fair,

Those of us who hold vi’lence in disdain? That hits me hardly.

Block. [Writer's]

Block. [Writer’s]

“Who is more to be pitied, a writer
Bound and gagged by policemen or one
Living in perfect freedom who has
Nothing more to say?”
One could say that the
Writer bound and gagged is under extreme
Duress. One who says that knows not the plight
Of being one who writes. He does not see
The pain and humiliation of dead
Lines. Does not see the abuse of guidelines.
Not see the formalities of scansion.
See the criticism of friends/enemies.
The distrust of editors, peers, contacts.
Hardship of rhyme, of syllabics, of verse.

Oh to be bound and gagged! For then I would
Have so much to say. Oh to lose this
Perfect freedom, to lose this right to write.
Then, only then, could I write what’s right.

Born Into This.

Born Into This.

Since the beginning I knew that this would
Be the manner which my life progressed.
With my head always up, I understood
That no positive would come from protest.

And so I relied on this slow decline
To keep me from wondering what would come
Next, or how these cruel fates would intertwine,
Couldn’t believe to what I would succumb.

Began to do what’s needed to survive,
Thought about not going on anymore.
Suddenly, a brilliant plan: to revive;
Myself, into one with a grand rapport.

Then I realized my world’s special feature:
There is nothing called ‘hope’ in my future.

Wednesday, May 7, 2008

An Elegy for J. Alfred Prufrock.

As we know, the five of us,
J. Alfred was a private man.
We know of course what he wanted to be,
But how was he before the tricks began?
Did we all simply get to know
What had been measured out in spoons?
Did we all simply see the show,
He put on to make the ladies swoon?
But of course they never did,
And of course he always tried again.
Despite their lack of quality within,
Their shining wrists attracted him.
And now we know his bald spot was
Actually atop his head,
For all this time the common buzz
Was that it was below his skin.
As we lay him down to rest
With sawdust on his feet,
I cannot help but recall
What he once said to me:
He said, “You know I always thought,
I could just change one day,
I can be whomever I want,
The person I wish to convey”.
I told him, “J., do you not know?
They see right through your lies!”
And now you know what happens next:
After a deep sigh, he dies.

What is a Poem?

A story with meter and at times rhyme,
A creature climbing mountains in record time.
A landscape crowded with flowers and sun,
A tale that’s over before its begun.
A poem is a flower forever in bloom,
A poem can help tell you what to presume.
On beautiful nature or frightening Death—
Events that freeze your lungs or of your last breath.
A brisk read or one that can linger,
Endings sum up or they are cliffhangers.
A poem can leave you with sweat on your brow,
It can be read by all petals on the bough.
The basic premise is that we can learn,
Infinite lessons from a poet’s concern.
Appreciating each poet’s affliction,
Can help us to learn the supreme fiction.

Thursday, April 17, 2008

June it is then.

I just got a phone call telling me that I have been accepted to the June residency at Antioch University.
I can't wait to go there, I need to be in Los Angeles by 6:00 on June 19th.
I need to buy a plane ticket, rent a car, and find a hotel.
Takes money to make money right?
I'm excited.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008


So I'm going to Antioch University in Los Angeles starting in December 2008. So far I'm two for two in getting into first choice schools. Here's my tally:

First Choice: University of Miami (accepted)
No other applications.

Grad School:
First Choice: Antioch University (accepted)
Second Choice: Fairleigh Dickinson University (still awaiting admission decision)
Third Choice: Lesley University (denied...oh wells.)

So anyway, I'm excited about starting school and I'm trying to start writing again. I want to have a book length manuscript ready by the time I start grad school.

My work on editing, rewriting and adding many poems to "Variations on a Theme: Poems to Mt. Olympus in the 21st Century" begins today.


Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Lady Ashley. (Rime Royal)

As we sit and watch the famous bull fights
I can only sit and stare at her face.
I continue on with my restless nights,
Oh to trade and be in Romero’s place,
Everything he does he does it with grace.
If there were only a way to surely know,
It wouldn’t have to be pretty to think so.

Five. (Rondelet)

And so it goes
Trapped in the amber of this moment
And so it goes
As only Billy Pilgrim knows
Why would anyone take his hint?
He traveled in time, we didn’t.
And so it goes.

Momus. (Sonnet)

Only through your power
may I write the way I desire.
If only for an hour,
your talents I could acquire.
Your craft is one of dreams
your skills of another realm,
although it may seem
that your words overwhelm.
Only with your blessing
will I say what I need to say.
Through your power of expressing
I can make my meaning stay.
Oh Momus, give me the power
to write this poetry and be remembered for an hour.


Take flight and you’ll know what life is
take flight and you’ll learn what this world means,
take flight and you’ll see how insignificant we all are.

But fly fast, fly far, don’t stop, don’t come back,
this is your chance to leave us all behind for now,
we’ll all be here for you when you land.
This is your chance to be something that matters,
this time your actions won’t be as insignificant as ours.

Take flight and clear your mind of this world,
clear your mind of battles and scars
forget the intimidation from your elders,
forget the sadness of your peers.
Clear everything from your head and remember
only the most important things.

Craft your wings with the utmost care
for this is the most important thing
you’ve ever done.
This is the most important thing
any of us have ever done.

You’re the one that we’ll all remember,
the one that will have done
something even worth remembering.

Take flight now!
This is everything you’ve ever wanted.
Fame. Power. Glory.
You will have all of this when you land.

You will know so much more than we all know,
by being so close to heaven,
may you become heavenly as well,
may you acquire the knowledge of the gods.

You can tell us the scents of the clouds,
the feel of the sky,
the brightness of the sun,
the clarity of life,
and the melting point of wax.

Eros. (Terza Rima)

Great god of the heart,
show me your magical ways
for I know not even where to start.

I would like to learn the phrase
that one must utter to a loved one
in order to amaze.

Of all the knowledge under the sun
yours is the one we can never construe,
but I will strive to be the first one.

However, of romance I have no clue,
I know little if anything at all,
but one thing I know is true:

Love done wrong can be a violent vicious squall,
but done right it can certainly enthrall.

Erebus. (Sonnet)

I’ve been framed and I need
to be as far from here as I can.
Unless I’m suddenly freed
I must stray from where this began.
I must hide behind you, Erebus,
so that I am not returned there.
Framed of a crime I can’t discuss
in a manner I could never prepare.
Protect me from these lies
great god of darkness.
Silence my painful cries,
hide my inhuman distress.
I need you with me now shadow god,
until I can finally discard this fa├žade.

For Magic and Memories. (Sonnet)

I don’t even recognize my neighborhood,
It just feels like I’m in the wrong hometown.
I don’t think I’ll ever come back around,
I honestly don’t know if I even could.
These are the streets of the misunderstood,
This is the block where we would lay face down.
These are the puddles in which we would drown,
Now we walk away though we said we never would.

This is the feeling of the once loved lost,
The emotion brought forth by the puddle of tears.
These are those streets we never crossed,
The ideas we never think of at any cost.
This is that ghost that reappears,
The one who leaves our old memories glossed.

For Sinners and Saints. (Sonnet)

For all the evil that suffocates this town
How did you ever find your way out?
I am positive, indeed without a doubt
That it is all of them bringing us down.
So from now until you take the crown,
These people are to be punished with drought.
Unless they soon become to our lord devout,
For saving their spirits you will be known.

But at times I cannot help but wonder
If our good will in fact prevail.
Is this all a wicked spell that I am under,
Will truth come and tear my dreams asunder,
Is our whole plan for good destined to fail,
Will all their lives end because of a religious blunder?

Vestigial. (Haiku)

So much for every-
Thing I thought I meant to you.
I'm your appendix.

Asclepius. (Haiku)

Oh Asclepius,
Bring her back to how she was.
Full of life and love.

Ares. (Tanka)

War, vengeance, anger,
Ares if you were here now
You would fit in well.

But in this world of holy war,
we don’t need any more gods.

Aphrodite. (Cinquain)

of love/beauty,
give me the strength to say
what she needs to hear from me now:

About the Author.

Miami, Florida, United States