Monday, June 3, 2013

The many faces of Spring's glory

Sweet smelling colors over budding leaves,
odiferous breaths, droplets of wet, heavy wind.
Splash, splash, splash.
Tiny rain boots wake up sleeping puddles.
Rustle, rustle, rustle.
Barren branches turn into tiny cities
naked to the world below.
Chirp, chirp, chirp.
Masterful mothers use creepy crawlers
to turn cries into songs.
Sunny skies open the cloudy curtains as
light punctures holes into the puffy marshmallows.
Coats hibernate; hats and gloves run away
to the land of dusty boxes.
Lying in marshy warmth, bitter tea,
worries melt away like ice cubes on fiery rocks.
Lungs full of springy air, and I can sit with
my eyes open and dream.

Saturday, May 25, 2013

Lost inside splintered time streams

Sometimes we run,
but all catches on
in a static rift, in time.
A poet’s rhyme,
carved into the splinters, before the sight,
hovering, what a height.
Watching, all the ants below,
sweep the valley, blue-green maroon hills roll,
glow, reflect hope.

Saturday, May 18, 2013

The dark side of imagination

Night terrors
A ball of yarn
Knitting into
Synergy, electricity
Movie reels projected
From thought
Mixed with fixed stares
Eyelids bare
Instead of hiding
Behind a brow
But sometimes things go wrong
Pain hidden
Insane, no one to talk to
It unleashes
Like a beast, a dark animal inside
Takes over
Makes you see what it sees
Misery and hate and fear
You’re scared
But all that is left
When the scene goes black
Is a memory, holes punched in like notebook paper
Your visions adjusts to the dark
Cold sweat
What was it that woke me up?
Like the silence, it erases
Stays buried in the string
The ball of yarn hides
Until slumber
Creeps in again
Like a dense fog on a wintry night

Thursday, February 14, 2013

Random thoughts from a single person on V-Day

Photo by Anthony Iozzo

It has been a long time since I was single on Valentine’s Day. So today, I plan to celebrate with myself.

And that is important because to love another, you have to be secure and love yourself.

Modesty is, by all means, a great virtue, as it keeps us striving for more, never satisfied with what we’ve earned.

But, it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be proud, happy and confident with our looks, our mind and our abilities.

Embrace who you are, and love will surely follow, whether it is romantic or platonic, friendship or hot nights with lovers.

This day shouldn’t just be for couples, as that would mean being single is somehow wrong, that those who do not have a partner are worse off.

That is not true, and to force such things only leads to lies and false hope.

I have been in love many times in my life, and only twice was with a person. The rest were times were with music, writing or just moments during legendary, epic nights when I looked around and said, ‘Yes! This is my life.’

You see, we all are worthy of happiness. It is just up to us to welcome it.

Nothing should be expected, not much can be planned.

Life is improvisation. We choose the path, but we find the nooks and crannies to wander off and discover and adventure and be free.

This is what this day should be, a time to reflect on the present and learn to not only love others but to begin to love yourself.

Then, and only then, will hearts align, real and true. 

Monday, February 11, 2013

Smirking at the inevitability of change

It is funny how life changes.
People love you, hate you, want to kiss you, want to kill you.
Buildings are razed, trees excavated,
ground and spread like sage
on the plucked bodies of chickens.
One minute you are laughing in bed,
the next, drowning in sheets, alone, empty.

So funny,
How as years pass, hours feel like minutes, years like days,
color to grey, the balance of growing old.
Cities grow as people, gaining new life,
Learning from mistakes,
graffiti washed in the rain.
One minute, a swamp,
The next, a metropolis,
Damp with tears of a million lonely eyes.

Funny, isn’t it?
The earth is going to be reshaped, humans destroyed,
by asteroid, sun spot or nuclear war.
Nothing can save us, no reason to show anger.
Inevitable firestorms that erase us.
One minute, a glorious species,
The next, a skeleton in a history museum.

Miniscule, funny little lives.
And yet, we hate and murder and discriminate.
Instead of joining and putting all our minds to the task,
We waste brilliance with ignorance.
One minute, optimistic,
The next, celebrating the tidal waves that wash it all away.

Erasing this funny, little joke. 

Saturday, February 9, 2013

Expedition into the Lost Forest of Praeclarus

I made this picture-story poem/music video a few years ago, but I thought I'd share with you guys for those who never saw it.

Note: Praeclarus is Latin for beauty/beautiful.

Friday, February 8, 2013

Sandstones and fossils

Rushing ocean,
Soft words spoken,
seagulls, white caps, static and falling,
into an empty mind, just eyes watching,
a picture without a caption.
Soft sand, what was the plan?
Sinking further, am I supposed to stand,
or let go and lie down covered,
Pen and paper in hand.

Animal instincts, sex, escape,
No love.
Shivering sun,
meditate as granules wash and run,
off my feet, through my identity,
Cleansed, freeing the sanity.

Awaken, lost,
hidden from what I could touch
taste, feel.
An imprint is all that remains,
a fossil, an archaeological voice mixed with evolutionary change,
slowly dissolving in the wake,
of the tide.

When I’m gone, will you remember me?
Or is my memory,
just a caption without a picture.

Monday, February 4, 2013

Escaping the clutches of routine

Anthony Iozzo sits in his workstation contemplating the future
and his power to mold it into what he pleases.
Waiting for coffee, I sit and plan my workday.

It is going to be many hours until I am back at my workstation, but music blares in my headphones and ideas come out on paper – lyrics, notes, thoughts; both internal and external waves.

This is not like every other Monday, however. Something is different. Yes. There will be coffee or tea. Yes. There will be writing and page design. Yes. There will be cold and snow on this February day. Yes. From a far, everything seems normal, routine. But it isn't. I'm not.

Sometimes depression leads to drama, anger, fear. Sometimes it leads to lost friends, lost love, lost humanity. Sitting alone in a basement, in the dark, isn't exactly the medicine to cure those feelings, those truths.

And talking isn't always the best. Random e-mails and texts usually push people away, and the goal of gaining a simple smile becomes quicksand as the sadness engulfs me, pushes me downward – a struggle to get free.

Today is a Monday where I am not like this, but last week was a week when I was. And just like before, I alienated and annoyed and drove wedges into relationships of people I care about.

But the day after, when I am free of the sad sand, when I am back to reality, it is a time of regret and of planning for a way to reconcile and make right. This only lasts a while. I continue to be myself, and I am happy again.

This time, this odd day, there is no regret. I am just happy.

Maybe it was the eventful weekend of concerts, random conversations, phone numbers, best friends, beer brewing, music creation and bourbon in a glass, always full. However, that wasn't something totally new.

I have had many weekends of fun and adventure, maybe with different additions and transitions but they existed through dark days and through bright ones nonetheless. So why then am I feeling different today? Why is there no regret of being clingy to a concept of nothingness?

The answer hits me like the hot water in the shower that bursts out and makes me turn it cold as the scalding droplets tingle my skin. Realization. Truth.

I have been against routines my entire 27-year life, and I always will be. But the truth is that my cycles of ups and downs have become routine. That is why people might be alienated or annoyed. That is why this day is different.

I broke the routine. I have no regrets because the past cannot be changed, altered maybe, but not changed. However, the future can be molded. The future can be painted, sculpted, written with positivity and happiness and love.

I am endless possibilities. So are you. Everyone reading this and everyone that isn't. Together, we hold the future in our clutches. We are the designers. We are our own gods. It is us who can turn the past into something better and new.

Today, I am not only happy, but I am breaking a routine. This time I learn from the past. This time I break free of the quicksand for good.

Friday, February 1, 2013

My nemesis is me

Photo by Anthony Iozzo
A shiver, gut wrenched, twisted knot,
adventure turned to vinegar,
the sour gurgles.
Thoughts wane like prism beams of a sunset.
Not sad but tired.
The water is murky
but my sunken face reflects clear,
like a mirror,
showing signs of fault,
of guilt,
of breaking the rules.
No regrets but changes are still
until the ripples, waves distort the image.
But unlike my wishes,
it isn’t a dream,
and I feel pins in my eyes
wrinkled with rain;
puffy, blind and chaotic,
Hypnotic, rotting in the sun.
Happiness is abstract as
laughter pierces my eardrum.
But it's false, just another mountain crumbling into the sea.
And when the skyline comes into sight, 
all I see is a reflection, a definition of me.

Sunday, January 27, 2013

Senses dance, oceans crest

The waves come crashing
Photo by Anthony Iozzo
Happy for a split second
As the salty, white capping, rolling wet hills
Crest over my chest, my head,
Under, the sadness cannot reach the depths,
No cries, no screams, 
Just faint laughter, kids living the dream
When I burst through the rushing scene, under toe pulling me north, south, west, east
I know,
I am reborn, and before I could think,
Another wave smothers me,
I start over as I sink.

I start over as I sink.

Miles and miles of beach, the Atlantic blends with the horizon.
Splashing and smiles I see, there isn’t anyone not happy.
The shore is another dimension, no evil can breach,
Even in a hurricane, when the wind blows you away,
The scene returns, and the oceans recede,
Leaving you to feel
And I kneel
in ankle high, I let go,
And I float
Burning eyes, I’m soaked
And I never want to be dry again

No, I never want to be dry again.

The crabs, the clams, the muscles, the sand.
Colorful schools in search of shelter, of food,
Nomads with nothing to lose.
Teach me, give me a clue.
How can I live as loose as you?

So sick of the truth, 
It only brings the blues.
I’d rather wander,
sing to the rush of the ocean
and the snaps … ah, I want to be lost like a crustacean.