Do you know where your children are?
Or rather who, in their ripening pedigree
and new language they are in the process of becoming?
Make no mistake
They are not
nor have they ever been
yours
belonging
infinitely to the green force driving wild shoots
and spleendeep rhythms,
rogue digits
calculating Tomorrow’s petty pace,
they pay no heed
nor praise
to milkwhite coroners
or dead secret gods—
Feral beginners,
brazen and jangled,
they are learning, on a tilted axis,
how to master vertigo
and mend hemhorrages,
how to alter static forecasts
and give the future a fierce makeover.
They do this
claiming the Meek’s inheritance
to fund an Indiegogo Renaissance,
rearing ingrown urges
to become the next generation
of textonal Beats, Bards & Romantics.
Teething on sound, fury
and bright rage,
they don’t need your
Oxford, Britannica
or New Yorker
to define themselves,
to hell with your Webster’s
and Times crossword puzzles,
They have traded in oldschool standards
for a youtube revolution
and ad-free listening to
to hi-def Muses,
pipers to their own call,
they deliver fresh signatures
and encoded cravings
upon cybercentric
walls and posts
beautiful wrecks
of form following function
to blow print runs
and paper hats out
of standing water,
smileyface wink and nod to democracy
is at their fingertips
and screen tested daily.
Pop horror be damned,
they will not turn into braindead zombies
scavenging the earth for slugs and entrails,
their hands far too busy
turning screws and splinters
of discontent
into arias and choral chants.
So I ask again—Do you know where your children are?
Or who in the juggling of pits and seeds they are destined to become?
Make no mistake
with each and every
text, glyph, groove, totem,
riff, rant, image, ballad
and blow,
they are growing
nearer to themselves,
cellular babes toddling bluntly
against the grain,
scamps trespassing a course, uncharted,
their compasses set to Grace.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
|
Tagged children, family, John Biscello, Literary, love, poem, Poetry, revolution, soul, spirit, Spoken Word, youth
|
There was that day you wore your hair in pigtails.
You were thirteen. Pigtails and a pale blue summer dress. I think the dress was new.
My mother had died three days earlier.
You and I were sitting on the stoop, looking out across the street.
Neither one of us was talking. I remember spitting a lot. Watching a foamy, spit-puddle form.
It was rare for you to be silent. Silence wasn’t your thing.
Silence, pigtails, a pale blue summer dress. Somehow it all went together.
Your hands were fidgeting though. They were placed on your lap and they’d spasm. As if reacting to some sort of allergy.
I’d sneak glances at your hands and worry. As a source of disquiet, they terrified me. I wanted to scream.
Yet I was able to calm myself by focusing on your pigtails.
I wanted to swing from them.
I thought my life would be different, for a miraculous thirty seconds or so, or that reality would soften around me if I could shrink myself down and swing from your pigtails.
I never told you that, Anya.
I’m telling you now.
Posted in Prose, Uncategorized
|
Tagged Benhonhurst, Brooklyn, friends, girl, grief, John Biscello, love, mourning, pathos, pigtails, Prose, stoop, story, summer
|
In giving my books a renewed lease on life (after my publisher abruptly went out of business last year) I will be independently re-releasing my first two novels, Broken Land, a Brooklyn Tale and Raking the Dust, through Amazon in the next week or so. Cover artwork for both created by Cris Qualiana Basham.
I continue to actively seek a new publisher for my latest novel, Nocturne Variations, with hopes of finding a warm and loving home for this beautiful mutant-orphan whom I regard with paternal fondness.
Once Upon a Time: Stories From Around the World, featuring my adaptations of classic children’s fables, paired with artwork, will be published by Eclectic Press, and is due out this Spring.
I am also excited to be collaborating with Cris Qualiana Basham on a children’s book titled The Jackdaw and the Doll, based on a story about Franz Kafka.
“My life has been in a sense the quintessence of what I have written, not the other way around. The way I am and the way I write are a unity. All my ideas and all my endeavors are myself.” Carl Jung
Posted in Books, Prose, Publications, Uncategorized
|
Tagged author, Books, Broken Land a Brooklyn Tale, children's books, dreams, John Biscello, literature, novel, passion, Prose, Publication, Raking the Dust
|
Within
the plum-dark consciousness
of God’s mysterious mind,
Stars
tells stories
of unsung psalms
seeded piercingly bright.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
|
Tagged consciousness, dark, darkness, God, John Biscello, mind, mystery, night, plum, poem, Poetry, psalms, seeds, sky, stories
|