The Writer's Bastille (A Sestina)

I sit here

Unable to present any letter

Oxygen flow

So incredibly slow

The hours turn to weeks

Ticking tocks and random sudden creaks

Echoing, cackling creaks

I must not leave from here

Nagging at me for weeks

But appears not a letter

Breathe slow

Let it flow

Out bursts the dam’s incredible flow

Silencing creaks

No longer slow

They soar here

The fluttering flapping of letters

To keep me content for weeks

Finite weeks

No drop left to flow

Incomplete and obscure are the letters

Precipitously resume the uninvited creaks

Yet alone here

Once more, slow

Insidious the weeks

Pretending to go by slow

Only here

Thoughts refuse flow

No sound left, no creaks

Only misshaped, cumbersome, and crippled letters

Nurse the letters

Nurture and cultivate them slow

Bring back the caressing creaks

Vitalize and elucidate the endless weeks

Be here

Demand the flow

The many hours, the many weeks

Oxygen flows

I sit here

Heil Monster

Heil Monster- A man like creature, born and raised by our kind; His growth is suddenly stunted around the same time a box-like, wooly whisker begins to emerge above his palate; Hair and eyes as black as the ashes he raises, though he prefers that of a lighter shade; Petite in size, but don’t let this fool you; From the slithers of his slimy tongue emerge the most foul of creatures, hypnotizing all who urge to listen; With one tentacle held tightly to his side, he casts the more sharper out before anyone who is near; If it were to reach you, the tentacle would pierce your throat and steal your heart; His slimy varmint wait to abduct all reason, and claim your mind. Those who are unfortunate enough to fall into his grip are granted life; Those who claim successful against his magnetizing spells and swarming virus are wretched with death endlessly surrounding them, taunting them, until they, too, succumb; Unequivocal is the damage he serves to deliver.

So, beware. He may emerge from his cell at any moment, without a given permission, enticing you with words of hope and pride. He may choose a goat to sacrifice, proving that God will accept his offering, all the while playing God himself. He will raise his tentacle up at a salute, directing his minions to destruction. And before you know it, he casts a shade over the land you call home, and on all those you hold dear. You will be left surrounded. There will be no escape, for this Monster has taken all reason, and has lavishly consumed all hearts. All that will be left is the strepitous, deafening melody of his blonde hair, blue-eyed progeny singing, “Heil Monster.”

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(Click to enlarge image)

Unadjusted to the Breeze (A Haiku)

The hued sprinkled leaves

Leave me chilled and unsure if 
The time is for me

Together (Video)

Visible Vibrations

If we could see sound


Every raindrop splashed, unique to its key

Every wind whistled, the gentle flute to the thundering drums of lightning

The storm, a symphony

If we could see sound

Every soft ray of sunlight shouts, the brightest sound of trumpets

Every dawdling cloud, the smoothest transition between one note and the next

The sky, the stage, the perpetual anchor, to the orchestra who plays it all.

My Father’s Belief

This is my father’s belief

To give my all

And take back what was stolen by the thief

A long journey searching for relief

To climb the city that thrives on the mountain and sound the Prayer Call

This is my father’s belief

A knife, a stone, a pistol, as taught by our Commander in Chief

To stab, to throw, to shoot, to squall

And take back what was stolen by the thief

But sometimes I wonder, can we turn a new leaf?

“They took your land, your home, left you with nothing but a dirt wall!”

This is my father’s belief

“Make us proud, Habif.”

I hide my tremble beneath the covert wires packaged neatly under my shawl

And take back what was stolen by the thief

I look back at the days of my life

The memories as heavy as the weapons I maul

This had not been my intention at all

Though a choice I did not have, I am held enthralled

For, this is my father’s belief

To give my life, and take back what was stolen by the thief