A new beginning

I mean it this time. I really do. I'm going to start updating this again. What?! you say? Mike is actually going to update a blog? Yes. Yes I am. Lately I've been musing a lot and giving silent mental dialectics to nobody at all on a host of different subjects which have crossed my mind. Every time I think to myself, "I could write a blog post about that." Then I think, "I don't have time and nobody will read it anyway." Well I've got news for me. It's a vicious cycle, and if I don't post anything worth reading, nobody will read it (thank you Captain Obvious). So I will try to bring this closer to the original point of the blog, a combination between my random thoughts and observations, and my creative output. Which brings me to the second reason I'm resuscitating my blog: I just produced my first creative work since January.

I know that so far, this blog is primarily dominated by my writing (which was supposed to be the purpose of the other blog), but it should begin to balance out soon. Enough rambling though, I'll get to the poem now.

Last night I was at the Barge, and as is my custom whenever in an establishment of coffee production, I purchased a (large) latte. Fast forward 3 hours. It's 2 AM and I'm still awake. Hell, the thought of sleep has not even begun to cross my mind yet. I ran out of mindless distractions earlier in the day, so what could I possibly do to delay getting in bed and tossing and turning from caffeine? Then a flash of inspiration! I was listening to Jimmy Eat World and a bunch of other music with good lyrics whose poetry I had appreciated back in the day (which was a Wednesday) and it made me long for those days once more. If I'm serious in my ambition to write, I reasoned, then it follows that il faut que j'écrit! Preparing myself, I opened up a blank Textedit document and positioned my fingers over the keys. Nothing. Inspiration=zero. Disappointed, I nearly gave up. Then I decided to just write and see where it took me, whether I could develop any themes, any meaning from the detritus of my mind. I started slowly at first, and then it just started to flow. When at last it felt ended, I looked back on it. Though I had no plan, no special meaning in mind when I wrote it, it just seemed to work somehow. The meaning was there. But now I leave it to the reader to interpret it (and even to decide if it's any good, it truly may not be, but as this was not painstakingly crafted, I will not be offended). It has no title as of yet, and it may not even be truly finished. But here is the first draft of my new poem.

Fifteen tons of bricks from the tower
Which is the one upon which to rest my head?
I saw two dead, but all was grass.

Where is the man who wanted it done?
Is this the time of love and war?

Have you seen the dead bird on the hill?
It stirred briefly, I think its wings were burned
I felt a kinship with it, his eyes were mine
I too have flown
I too am singed

Where is the man who wanted it done?
Is this the time of birds and fire? Of salt and light?

Have you seen the weight of the world?
It lies sullen and scorned
I think I recognize it

Today the ether was poured out
I knew not what ecstasy was before
This blissful immersion, sublime effervescence
I too have been poured out

Where is the man who wanted it done?
Is this the time of the spheres? Has the dome been polished?

Whence comes this figure all in grey? His mantle is frayed
He is bent and careworn
He might have been me one day. His eyes were mine.
I do not believe he noticed.

Tomorrow there will be ephemeral spires
Reaching ever higher, their spirits ever lower
Bricks all around, bricks in my head, bricks on the ground
Twenty thousand tons
How does one weigh a life? Show me the balance

Where is the man who wanted it done?
Is this the time of murder and rape? Of rings and the end?

He has one eye. It is not mine.
Summon the lanterns. Extinguish the dark.
I think I recognize it.