nicholas-dicienzo
American
My passion for writing comes from the captivating power of words and its effect on the human soul. Creative energy can move, disarm, and empower those who open themselves to it. Therefor, I try to live my life in the light of this unifying beauty. I appreciate any place like this for people to embrace their artistic nature.
It was late into that viscious seasonal transition
with sticky heat grating at the loose barricades
the confused masses put up around
patterns of docile thought.
I remember entire cities
churning out their leaders as children
and dressing our most vulnerable
up for combat.
I remember each first moment
when another person knew
how painful it was
to just have it all happen.
The sweet sting of a tireless wind
at least taught us what momentum existed,
but never how to resist the pull
and claim it as our own.
Whatever took us kept us
up until the very end,
and we expected to wake up
panting, embracing a new land.
And then the storm stopped
and the eyelids pried open
against the settling dust
that encapulated the chaos.
Nothing was harmed and no one was moved
and the waters reclaimed a normal flow
but they all just sat with nowhere to go
in shock that their, "right here" hadn't changed.
Not right here
nor the now
nor the us
nor any "them".
We sweet human creatures
are built to seek shelter
to make it grow
into tragic stagnance.
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 7:14 PM UTC
Barriers of silence ***** between thoughts;
ideas fly swiftly- quick for assault.
Faith is believing, and yet, so is hatred:
believing that violence should sprout from a fault.
Panic seems pointless with no direct threat,
but passionate parties may always persuade
the vulnerable masses that dose off in class
until one shy doubt turns into one grand crusade.
Some follow shadows of half-hearted speakers
who cast magic words like a fairy tale witch.
Most never realize that as they draw swords
for a misguided army, they sew their own stitch.
Cities to marvel at now lay in ruin.
Striking young muses have been stripped of grace,
though often these faces aren’t pummeled by nature,
but swiftly destroyed by some “better race”.
**** those deceivers! Down with the wicked!”
Enraged by injustice, they charge and they swarm
until all the “righteous” paint warm hope through violence
becoming the enemy’s worst fear reborn.
Sometimes we despise those who bring a friend hurt
or passively snarl at those we can’t describe,
but until we embrace that we all make mistakes
we are nothing but lookers into the other side.
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 3:24 PM UTC
Show me love
like the love that paints
the grass with light
when morning rays reach out
through the dead of space
to embrace the Earth each day.
Lay me softly
down into a bed of clouds
to match the comfort I would
show to that someone somewhere
who could show me truth.
Here and now
sing whatever song you want
because the dawning life's beauty
comes to those who call
for something new.
May 11, 2013
May 11, 2013 at 10:11 AM UTC
The moment was perfect
My exhale trembled
As buried bliss caught up with me
My eyes drifted shut
As my body surrendered
To the rush of euphoria
The corners of my mouth climbed
Escaping the rising intensity
Of my heart, now rescued
From a life spent ignored
Soon the sensation
Grew past my whole body
Towards the ancient realm of
Stars and planets stretching to form
The eternal embrace of the unknown
At long last, my love
Could be felt with clarity
A thousand times over
With miraculous vibes
Pouring through my spine
And unwinding the pressure
Now is the moment
For once it begins
It stretches its arms through
The tunnels of fate
To grasp your life tightly
And grasp my life tightly
To help us all breathe...............
........and once it peaks......
......I know what I need................
.....for it was this moment that planted the seed.
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 5:54 PM UTC
My notebook lay in pieces
From my anger back in time
Something treasured; precious: shredded
All to match my mind
Along the line, another suffered
With its brethren folder
Stanzas, thoughts, ideas along with
Rants were left to smolder
Soon, I metamorphosed
My whole self into a new
And in the wind behind me
I watched as my cocoon blew
Little layers containing me
Yet strengthening my soul
So silly, yet so precious
Yonder through the dust it rolled
Lost, but not forgotten
My old writing disappeared
My notebook lay in shreds
On many floors through many years
Perhaps a line or paragraph
Floats on beneath the sun
Perhaps the ashes of a special
Character still run
To the wandering thoughts I’ve mangled
I give gratitude
The future of these brand new thoughts
Won’t see a fate so crude
For every distant memory
Of what I have destroyed
Has taught me that my strange old mind
Is one I can’t avoid
Feb 15, 2013
Feb 15, 2013 at 12:28 PM UTC
Our fuming sun, atop our sight
Released a breath of love today
Now drenched with light, we understand
And thus, to not forget, we pray
Tonight, I turn my head up high
And tune my ears to words unsaid
For nature carries strength with stillness
Sweetly by the riverbed
Warring storms have rattled branches
Striking hard upon our home
But never will they shake the roots
That show us deeply how we’ve grown
And “Om” is heard beneath a flood
Of hollow hate and daunting doubt
But gracefully, all will be dry
Beneath the pain, our tree will sprout
Feb 15, 2013
Feb 15, 2013 at 12:10 PM UTC