// February 19th, 2006 // No Comments » // Creativity, Writing
Yeah, so I know this isn’t my typical fashion. But I saw a friend of mine do a poetry reading yesterday and I thought I’d pull some of my old stuff out of the woodwork. It’s not very good, and I’m by no means a trained writer, but what the fuck? Why write it if you don’t want people to read it. This is pretty much the body of my poetry writing, and I doubt anything will ever be added to it at this point. Poetry’s just not really my strong suit (then again, what is?). Oh yeah, since I copy and pasted some of these off Poetry.com it looks like you’ll get to learn my middle name. Yes, I really am too lazy to delete it out.
Progression
The dust in place rolls off my tongue
I hear the voices telling me not to run away
But the dirt in my nails says how far can I get this time?
I will find the way for souls in life to stay
And passages of life on mantels are hung.
The control entirely is up to you
As we swallow bittersweet fear, a symphony
As life is given up to the chance at the toss of a dime.
There is no light crawling in the dark honey
Where hope is a distant cry, who?
But tell me what am I supposed to do
Because the decisions are tearing me up inside
And I no longer have the strength to go on in this land
Running in shadows looking for places to hide
Understand the pain I am going through
I see clearly for the first time in life
A path as worn as any road built by man
I know I must stay and complete the task at hand
Yes, my bones break and my skin will tan
But I will not fall before fear’s knife.
Michael Phillip Fienen
Copyright 2006 Michael Phillip Fienen
The Dragons
Dragons fly in on night’s wings
Curious of what tricks the jokester holds,
Fairies and pixies dance and sing
While dwarves and elves hear stories told.
Ah, when life was grand and full of spice
And the World was magic, new, and fun,
There was a land so pure and so nice
That you felt strong, solitary, one.
You are the dwarf, the pixie, the elf.
By might and mind you change yourself.
For the vampyres work while others dance and sing
When Dragons fly in on night’s wings.
For the vampyres have no use for worldly things.
When Dragons fly in on night’s wings.
Michael Phillip Fienen
Copyright 2006 Michael Phillip Fienen
“The Tower Chronicles”
Note from the author: This is a series of poems inspired by the set of books written by Stephen King known as the Dark Tower. They should not be considered fanfiction, because they are only inspired by it, not based on it. This is part of an ongoing set of poems which will eventually tell an entire story but is, as yet, unfinished. Each poem remains untitled, and is unto itself it’s own entity, but together each gives elements to the others.
Old Charley McDaniels stood on the brown dirt way
Lined each side by a sea of roses, perfect and brilliant red.
Before him, miles distant, a Tower in eternity does stay,
Brown the path, crimson the roses, blue the sky overhead.
Like some twisted parody of Pisa, a sick, diseased black
Spills from Tower to the soil in waves like bleak volcanic sand.
As Ol’ Charley makes pace, Oh! how the Earth wishes him back
Dirt shakes, twists, roses cry, chorus comes from death’s band.
Beauty corrupted, ghosts and daemons only sustain the Tower
That is trapped within the Peace of a thorny prison of roses.
Ol’ Charley knows not why he’s here, summoned by some power.
Only that he is pushed to answer some secret question fate poses.
So he opened the tower, and pure evil, black magic he eyed.
And in that moment, good Old Charley McDaniels died.
————————————
What is it said?
Fear in the dust,
Sand in the hand,
Eyes that are red?
Run in the red.
Skip in the brown.
Love that is blue.
Black is the bed.
Tower’s the bed,
Evil its stone.
Stay back from the door
Or else you are dead.
Everyone’s dead,
Can’t outrun time.
Go into the light,
It’s all in your head.
Curse your dumb head.
It all isn’t true.
Tower’s the door.
Shoes are of lead.
Shoes made of lead,
Dust in your hand,
Red eyes look at you,
The Tower’s your bed.
————————————
The Tower has never been real,
Sides of dark stone not of steel.
But it’s all metaphor
When you open its door,
And Death takes you in for a meal.
————————————
Time flashes for one moment and
Only Charley McDaniel’s eyes see
What his life was spread before him.
Ending in a red rose field, he is
Ripped through a black doorway.
————————————
In the Tower we rot.
In Its chambers we rot.
w w w w w w w
e e e e e e e
r r r r r r r
o o o o o o o
t t t t t t t
In the Tower we rot.
————————————
One is so far, and the other so near;
siege the castle
One brings you hope, the other breeds fear.
siege the castle
Its forces grow strong and increase in number,
siege the castle
But Ol’ Charlie McDaniels is just a plumber.
siege the castle
Dreamy voices at night whisper and mumble
While the walls of the castle whisper and crumble.
And Charlie, Good Charlie hears in his sleep
Though visions of Towers force him to weep.
siege the castle
Ol’ Charlie the Pure and McDaniels the Brave
Only knows that he has a castle to save.
His instinct is true, his heart tells him right,
That he has to save the Castle tonight!
Stop the Tower.
————————————
Green, golden, flowing
grass at its base.
Warm suns are shining
down on his face.
Black fear is creeping
into its place,
killing him sweetly
with his disgrace.
Vampyres look on
with toothy smile.
The Dark imps look on
waiting the mile.
The Dragons look on
lined single file,
and fear has now seized him
dead in the aisle.
Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
How scared will you be
when Death looks at you?
Finally
By Michael Fienen
Note from the author: I am proud to announce that this poem is being published in an issue of the magazine Agerai. Yay me!
And I’m finally leaving town again,
Driving with the wind in my hair.
I am going back to
The place where I belong.
And I have tried the paper and pen,
Writing words but you don’t care.
No matter what I do,
It still comes out wrong.
You said that I scored a perfect ten.
I heard you say we were a pair.
But I need someone who
Can make me feel strong.
Now I’m finally leaving town again,
Riding with the wind in my hair.
So I look back at you,
And knew all along.
2001 Michael Fienen
Darkness
O Darkness, thou art as sweet salt to a wound,
And I dost hate. Millions of times do I say
That all things end, all post pay.
Whether it be life swooned,
Whether it be chord untuned,
Whether it be night from day,
Nothing stays static, still it won’t stay.
From the time of our first, Death us doomed.
Hark! that all things end, we are aware.
From the alter we build, green deeds made skill
Mold us, prepare us to be of Earth’s caches,
All of which dwindle, but nix without a Star’s care.
We are the pawns of nature, you and I, taken still.
Life is dust to dust, ashes to ashes.
Michael Phillip Fienen
Copyright 2001 Michael Fienen
In my years that I’ve now spent in higher education, one universal truth I have found is that nothing quite moves a project along like when someone much more important and much less web savvy than you deems an issue worth addressing. Such was the case only a couple months after I had started at the university, when the Director of Marketing noticed that new information she had put up on the site wasn’t coming up in search results, and the results that were hitting weren’t particularly relevant to the topic in the first place. Thus, a mission was born, to find a way to make our search better, and to do it NOW. That’s the other thing about people higher up than you, when they say jump, generally you jump…
More secure than passwords.
