Tag Archives: poem

Dreaming of Italy, But I Don’t Speak Italian

In your dreams you can be anyone, be anything, do anything, go wherever you want. Why then, in my dreams, am I me? Why then, in my dreams, am I me and I am with you? Not to Italy, not to Spain, but trees and parks in Cincinnati. A place of hills and dreams tucked so neatly into the cusp of the Ohio river. My heart is here and so far away. Perhaps I’ll even find it again.

A Rose By Any Other Name

Decidedly pithy

Not such a pity

Two houses

You and I

In fair Cincinnati

Alike in serendipity

Find yourself a part

An actor, an actress

We’re putting on a play

You’ve been cast

In iron

Unmoving

Fettered by nature

Much like a bronze bust

Perfection in antiquity

Opposite me

If you only you could see

The part you have to play

Maybe then we’ll find our way

Two leads

Pro-consuls of that fallen republic

There abound the seeds

On a path we find oblique

Slanting at an angle

That makes it hard to speak

Do You Have An Answer?

Afternoon, folks. Hoping everyone is having a lovely Thursday. It feels wonderful out. Bit windy though. I am having a pretty good day, all things considered. Hard fought, I think. Do you ever feel like you just can’t remember something you should? Some things that you should? Like it’s not even on the tip of your tongue anymore, but it’s just been wiped from your conscious mind. A blockage, rather than a haze? Locked away inside a vault in the castle of your mind? Find the key, win the prize.

Popular

An old friend

Come to see me again

“It’s been a while,”

Spoken knowingly.

“Can you remember?”

Not anymore

“Kind of,”

I lie.

“Remember when we…?”

I can’t

“Of course I do,”

Slithered through gritted teeth.

Sitting still upon a precipice

Beady eyes inside a carapace

Try so desperately to keep the pace

Look down and see my untied shoelace

Ataraxian dreams sail breadth of mind

And probe for gold in hearts of mine

But why can’t I remember?

It doesn’t seem like so far away.

He Has Arrived.

Moving on up. Moving on out. Do what you will, perhaps what you must. Find the page, don’t make a fuss. The man, he comes, to do what he does. How will you respond? In all your despondent musings, never could you have fathomed his arrival. The depth of his presence… What could it mean?

The Man

Novocaine

Laughing gas

Numb the pain

Chuckle now, it’ll pass

Never feeling

Never reeling

From the onion, layers peeling

Never crying, always dealing

Put it inside

Stem the tide

Walking cadaver, formaldehyde

Eat your fill

Drink this swill

Take this pill

Corporate shill…

Once upon a time

There was a man from Nice

Quite the man he was, so very nice

And quite the fan of thyme

Corrupted he was

by demons abuzz

And now is his brain turned to mush

Outta Time?

It seems I’ve always got more time. Always got something to look forward to. Never let myself run out of time. The clock is always ticking, or is it? Always seeing a way forward, gotta avoid the obstacles!

Just a Couple

Ephemeral feelings of floating

Wasn’t sure, never sure

Someone speaking, someone gloating

Doctor, please… Have you the cure?

Head spinning

Don’t be late

Little Alice, down the hole, hair is thinning

You, my friend, are missing a very important date

Needed somewhere

Never there

Looking down, a single tear

Sew it up, up the stair

Spooling wire

Always tired

Hear the spirit arcing through

Think of someone, couple’s two

Do You Believe In Magic?

Arthur C. Clarke once said, “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.” We’re on the cusp of an era where people will no longer understand the technologies we have built from the ground up. They are now so complex that were you to ask a child today how a cellphone works, they might simply have no explanation other than that of magic. My generation may be the last to understand technology’s inner workings in any meaningful way, now giving rise to a society that is full of sorcerers rather than scientists. Imagine a world of science fiction. One where we fly on great space arks and control every aspect of reality simply by thinking. No one will know who built these machines or how they operate, just that they continue, always. You will find yourself surrounded by magic and splendor, finding no difference between the former and science any longer. Any notion of us having built these hulking, self-maintenancing, incredible wonders will have disappeared. We may become little more than medieval peasants worshipping great mechanical beasts that do the bidding of those savvy enough to claim their operation, though ignorant to the internal machinations all the same. None of us will live to see this potential future, but we are getting closer.

Transistor

It’s magic.

Don’t you know?

Every little arc and spark

Coursing through the board

Can’t help but find

Inside the mind

A billion little arks

Sailing through the dark

So complex

Are these effects

None of us remember

How it is they render

Those little magic words