Ode to Typewriters! Prévert. You?

i want it to click.
decisive rhythms.
tick, tack! tickity, tack, tack.
they are sounds of security.
of beginings. and endings
in the rings! of new lines.
if only life was that simple.
as to pressing buttons...
would actually make yourself understood.
you'll find clarity in the imprint of ink.
that slaps the page with a thwack.
I dont know about you,
but I'm not that simple.
my text is not counts of characters!
only grownups like to count!
just as children like to love!
and i like to watch the ink flow out,
so fluid like a dance across my heart-wings,
bringing red feeling along the way,
i weave my hearts desires for you,
for us, and the cold of october.
the chilling thrill of maturity,
the moments bleed into days,
and the numbers melt like candles.
with my pen in hand all things definite.
denature into songs, humming...
complicated harmonies of smoke,
words become ballets!
and reading books is trivial,
without the words to read!
you may feel bustled, lost in a mess.
but its my beautiful mess.
i feel at home, om, my friend.
no stops and starts and traffic or machines.
just you and the songbird.
me and the crumbling walls.
of the definity that falls
like the roman decay.
or the stamp upon the page
a rhythm of freedom!
tack, tack, tickity! tack, tick.
theses are sounds of revolution!
I dont know about you,
but its exhillerating.
to see the simplicity,
of the last melted word,
thwang upon the page.
followed by a,

question mark...

Found the Pen! & Poem Upon a Dream

So, I guess I thought a daily commitment would be a lot easier. But I will get there. There will be road blocks, in my timing, mood and overall forgetfullness in where my pen is- or even that I should be looking for it.  Which is why this is still in a "quest phase" and not quite yet in a definitave place. Today I'll write about a dream:

Tomorrow's Sun
     Gillian Z. R. Wenzel
The infinate horizon
seen from the wing's future
as sky's wool hides my destiny
the bird flies though my dreams
into the dancing slumber
by the sound of accordians
with their love and kind seduction.
Distantly I hear the trumpets
of buttoned, collared warfare
they fight for what
but the truth behind the clouds
as they run twards a destiny
or run from discomfort
as shots run out from guns
there is no bullet no saint
no bird of peace nor cross
but a number of the fallen
as they dance with death
from behind the shields.
Across the quilted fields
beyond the twirling rivers
children of dusty pasts
tap the pavement with dreams
as they run though their lives.
the peace, the brotherhood
the war, the sacreligious death
our competition of joy
won't ever be won
by those who chose to play.
Looks of vengence
with the fires of hell
behind eyes of angry grief
will set no flame
will burn nothing
upon the eyes holding water
of which a dove drinks
holy and blessed.
there are no buttons upon the bird
no gun fire in the twirling rivers
the wool laced clouds cannot be shot at
nor the quilted lands.
Trumpets may be broken
war can destroy war
but no satisfaction shall be brought
to the one who's nemisis
has no list of hate.
The the humble shall not die
but walk though battlefields unarmed
"aim, ready, fire!" the buttoned men say
but all they hear is the sweet acordian
as they walk along their way
nothing but a tear in their shirt.
And high above my dove flies home
to the fibers of cotton and the quilts upon me
tomorrow's sun shall arive with water on my skin
with twirls in square lakes I shall greet today's birth
I may dream of buttons and birds
I may dream of guns and wool laced clouds
I may know nothing of the acordian's kindness,
And I may hear some of the trupets.
But I walk without war
and I live each day to be new.
The truth lies not beyond the clouded victory,
but the sweet mystery of the wool laced clouds,
the gentle genuinity of twirling rivers
and the peacefull bird flying twards tomorrow's sun.


10:54pm August 28, 2012.

Changed and Changing

Here's the crazy thing about life: one day you think you got it all figured out and then a year later- thinking with the same ego, you find yourself laughing at what you thought you knew about life or yourself back then.  And thus the cycle continues.  I look at myself today- 13 days from my first anniversary of my departure for my exchange to Italy.  I thought I would live this year abroad- i thought was living then; and now- I look back and realize that i didnt know the first thing about this thing that we call life.  I probably still dont; but its worth trying.

Today in my French class we read Chanson a poem by Jacques Prevert. The message was that we do not know anything and the only thing that we can do is to live and to love. I realized that this sums up much of what i did come to understand about myself and my year.  I am proud of who i was before i left.  I was loud, i was the person that you would hand the megaphone.  Complex formations of this strange confidence bloomed in conversations that created soundtracks to my daily life. Quiet was uncomfortable, this alien, unnatural thing.  Thats one of the things that prepared me for that flight that left at 11:16am on September 6th, 2011.  I was competitive; I was a poet lost in the game of accel, achieve and win; I was intense.

I remember moments that led up to today; things that changed me. Picking the grapes and understanding the beautiful complexity that comes with making wine.  Seeing the virant leaves turn orange and die.  I was puzzled. How could a forest that was kelly green turn into auburn wheat fires of a summer dying.  It was then that I got into poetry- especially on the pinnacle of the poet Rilke's hiking trails- where the jagged rocks fall into a wind blown sea.  I really have to thank my dad, my first italian dad- Renato.  He saw a poet in me before I found the voice that has flown out of my pen.  Sicily opened my eyes to the humble kindness and appreciation for joy that hummanity is capable of.  Mamma Patrizia taught me a strength that doesnt have words in any language I know. An ability to allow yourself to be a mystery; to let people find why you love you.  My brother, Ale, taught me things that I wouldnt understand until our goodbye.  He taught me a tenderness that i had never recieved or understood before.

I brought my pen and my leather bound diary into the alpine weather and the troubles of emotional survivorhood.  My community was strengthened and i began to loose the bloging because there wasnt much beauty to write about. And being an optimist in a very lonley loveless place, i found a peace with silence. a joy with friends who i let see my soul. I have much to thank to the exchange students- all of them- because they got me though this.  Aaron's skype sessions kept me laughing and fiesty; Elise a shoulder to cry, pray, and shop with; Carlos a sense of hope and childhood joy; Grishma kept me on the bright side of things; Maren kept me normal- still living.  Eva reminded me what energy exchanges should bring and essentially influenced my decision to change families.  At school I really need to thank 3 people: my host sister Silvia who sat next to me through countless journal entries, tears and probably understands me better than anyone else- having seen me at my happiest and sadest moments.  Meta who's hugs kept me alive in the sadness, and whose laughter warms my heart. And, a friend who painting with for 14 hours a week has made me a better person, and has encouraged me to follow my bliss.  Pierluigi, you untamed the artist in me- and for that i am eternally greatful.

Back at home my parents skyped with me at times both reasonable or insane- they kept me filled with love and when the time came and I realized I needed out, they and other people that made up my community got me back in a healthy loving enviornment.  Now that I look back upon the roughest period of my exchange- I know that my community and my tearstained poems kept me strong, gave me hope, and made me a survivor.  The word survivor in italian sopravivere essentially means to live above- and my faith- prayers, rosaries, and a trip to Rome with the exchange students blessed me with the strength to move forward.  Two weeks with a temporary host family Ester and Claudio who, though we were sick the majority of the time, healed my wounds with love and understanding. I remembered how to live with joy! Carnevale definatly helped with this and I found myself genuinly happy.  The kind that radiates from your pores and warms your heart like a campfire- burning all the negative past away.

So did my family that with our habits and quirks there is always something going on.  I learned so much from each and everyone of them. Papa' taught me the importance of doing what you love- be it work, family or play. From his collections, to the vinyards he taught me the pride that comes with doing something for yourself.  Mamma taught me a strength to be firm in what you believe, a freedom to be young, and great rythm of tradition.  Giulio, flexibility, joy, freedom, and how to smile like you mean it.  Silvia, kindness, being genuine and the importance to listen to the lyrics.  Ethel, faith, laughter, and to love with our whole heart. Chantal truth, immagination and to love each person you meet. Luca, the patience to explain the intricacies in life, and the right way to watch a soccer game.

This family brought me to Capriva di Friuli- a place you've probably never heard about.  I didnt expect to fall in love with this small village. I also didnt expect to feel so much a part of something.  I've never felt so human than with my friends here.  From the first Saturday at the party in the castle, to the Maj, their kindness that has made me feel more loved than I ever- since i cant carry my village on my back, i hold the voices of each of them with me, each time i smell a ciggarette's perfume their words and love come flooding back.  They have become a family along with the Scalias, the Tirels, all the friends mentioned here.

Its been two monthes since I've gotten home- almost a year since that first party in the castle of Gorizia. From each person, experince and moment I've found myself a step farther to my future.  What ever it will be, i have found sincere joy in not having everything all figured out.  For once in my life, I'm enjoying the unknown, silence, humility and calm that accompanies my new heart.  Now i find myself at the time to define myself and send it to companies i may trust to educate me. But I can't define who I am. Each day i find myself pleasently surprised by the small buds that flower into who i am today.  Jacques Prevert tells us to be confident in knowing nothing- to act soley with our hearts because all we can do is live and love.  A year ago today i would have found that impossible to believe. Today I feel it true in my soul. When it comes down to it, life isnt about proving anything. I've stopped trying to grab the megaphones to tell the world who i am. I'm starting to realize that the world is beautiful even in its horrors. And I'm loving watching these realizations formulate in my heart. Today I'm loving the quiet with the simple tic-tac of the keys that build my feelings. Today i dont feel competitive. As this poet slowly hatches from its armor, I find myself overcome with love. For everything in this world. For every version of myself that I've been and will be.  For every person, prayer, or moment that has brought me to this point of quiet, meditative bliss.  Thankyou.  Whether youve treated me with love, or and distian.  Each person has made me who I am today. And for that, I am eternally greatful.

So now I find myself making a commitment that I plan to keep. 100 days of publishing- not just shallow pieces but small redefinitions of myself.  I'd like to have some followers, but I'm writing this for myself. Feel free to join me for the ride.