Tag Archives: poetry

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

Heart of Stone, Breast of Glass

So you’ve looked upon the very thing I spoke of before? So you’ve made the effort? You’ve seen this heart of stone and found it wanting? Wanting what? Where’s your answer? Where’s mine? I can’t tell you the right one, but I’ll certainly tell you one:

Alchemist

Songs float around my head

Think of words they’ve said

Lying wide awake

Transmute gold from lead

Many times you are warned

Many times we are torn

Pricking simple sentences

From the base of a thorn

From the heart, a sliver shorn

Ein Herz aus Stein

A heart of stone

Final patch’s been sewn

To hide away the chiseled heart so far from home

Sing your somber songs

Pray upon the peddled pillory

Climb inside the cold confessional

Not so private… not so safe

Between you and He

A bet you’re willing to make?

Challenge must you undertake.

Could You Find It In Yourself?

Afternoon, compadres. Look inside. What do you see? You can tell me. You can trust me. I am as I have always been. A man in a box, a man outside a box, who knows? Juxtaposed, contradiction, opposition… What do you do when you can’t choose just one? When you have to make a choice? Choose both. Find peace within yourself by making peace with yourself. Maybe that’ll even work. For now, I’m just talking. Please enjoy, most esteemed compatriots.

Little Prince

blithering, blathering, blubbering child

don’t you see, don’t you care?

it’s been a long time since he smiled

your little prince has nothing to wear

sitting, swearing, scaring man

lying to me, lying to you

lying in the sun, working on your tan

your boy’s gone out and formed a plan

you don’t get to be

a part of this

don’t you see

you’re no longer on the list

reconciliation

what’s that mean?

conciliation

on you i knew i could not lean

seeing, staring, watching all you do

from that very early age he knew

plotting as he grew

all the ways to get away from you

blithering, blathering, blubbering man

don’t you see, don’t you care?

your little boy’s gone out and become a man.

If It Wasn’t For The Mist…

Good morning! I have a poem today that was inspired by something very dear to me. The one thing that may in fact be responsible for my accession to the title of “Writer”. Fee free to throw out guesses in the comments as to what I’m referencing. I read every one. Without further ado:

The Rite

Ticking tock

Countenance of the clock

In your hands a mirror

In your eyes, a watch

Sitting there

Something queer

What’s that? Just off the pier?

See so far away the light

Never sure in black of night

Whether you or vision’s right

Can’t tell

So overpowering, the smell

Coming from the swell

Pardon me

That’s just the sea

Though still you’ll have to pay the fee

Do you know the price?

Did you roll the dice?

Asking, asking… Not very nice…

To fear a feeling felt so foul

Makes you think to throw the towel

Please just now, secure the dowel

Composed before some ghastly sight

Hide yourself from trick and slight

Gather your things, prepare the rite

Reminisce and Recall

Afternoon. Nothing I write here feels quite right. That’s about how I feel right now. Like I’m trying to remember something but I can’t quite do it. I can’t quite manage to find the room that memory lies in, walking down the halls of that castle in my mind, seeing all those forgotten portraits and paintings of things I’m hiding away. Seeing the door at the end of the hall that I know not to open. I don’t think I’m ready for what’s inside.

Dreams and Memories

Fading fast to sleep

Try, try again

Try and take the leap

Think of birds, a wren

Owls on the walls

Hooting, hooting

Picking at my flaws

A path by a pond

Fallen trees

Memories far away

And closer still

Too many pieces

Not enough glue

Renew the leases

Not something new

Panthers playing rock n roll

Dancing to the music

Lying next to vampires

On the floor

Little whining dogs crying at the door

Bring me back to Zion

Promised land to die on

Make me tea from the dandelion