Sometimes We Just Need to be Reminded

Here's a poem I wrote back in 2006. Feel free to critique it, just enjoy it, hate it, whatever seems to fit your mood today.


Sometimes We Just Need to be Reminded

Sometimes we just need to be reminded.
Sometimes we just need to stop the train,
get off, and look
at the sunflowers alongside the tracks.
Sometimes we just need to breathe. Deeply. In.
Out. Abdomen soft.
Sometimes we just need to feel the chair under
our backside.
Sometimes we just need to look at our partner,
really see him or her again.
Sometimes we just need to be reminded.

-- Mike Banys, 2006

Places We Can't Go

Okay, so it's not a regular post, but it's all I've got to offer right now. Here are the lyrics for a song I'm working on, feel free to absolutely demolish them.


The seasons change
And Spring finds its way
To San Francisco
The light laid down
Now clings to Bay and building
A most beautiful back drop
But it could never be enough for me

I whisper to the winds
“Darling, I am lost”
Lost in thoughts
Of what could have been
What might have been
What never was
If it ever was
Memories of words we claimed

“Let’s step out
Let’s take a chance.”
But there’s no chance
Just patterns that remain
Patterns we can’t change
We can’t change

So we find our own roads
Turn our backs on places we can’t go
Follow what we’ve come to know;
There’s nothing more
To hold us back
No more thoughts to what we lack
I’ll never be the one to say
Love goes easily
I’ll never be the one

Seasons change
Summer’s just around the bend
And I’m running
On my own again
And I am running
to Chicago

The Chronicles of Ryan's Roommate Part I

Ryan looked in the fridge. His heart sank with the temperature as it hit his face. It had happened again. This would require some brooding. He flopped down on the couch and tried to put things in perspective. He tried to see the truth of the matter. He tried not to be angry.

But He Was Betrayed.

Betrayed by the closest person to him. Their bedrooms were a scarce 10 feet apart. How could he do this! Why couldn't he be considerate! It was a matter important to life or death.

But he forgave his friend. Their friendship could transcend this. He also knew what his friend was dealing with at the time. He knew of the crazy spells, and the rough influence of the female.

After all, it was only another frozen burrito.

Did you enjoy my last post? I thought it was clever!
And despite the fact that Ryan tells me that it is blog-terrorism to threaten so, I will begin to fill this blog with similar dribble until some more discussion is kindled!

David

Death of a Violist

"A string quartet is made up of four people; a good violinist, a bad violinist, an ex-violinist, and someone who hates violinists."

And thus, a viola player dies. He spent his life in an unknown clef, playing unheard parts on an unrecognized instrument. From the outside world, he received complete anonymity. From the music world, he received ridicule.

And yet, somehow, he made it to heaven! All those years of practice, frustration, perseverance had paid off. As he went to join the orchestra in the sky, God looked at him and said "Viola, huh? That's like a large violin, right?"