The Falling Star

The Fall
Among the stars, moons and planets
from among the universe she had landed

Knocking away at memory
forgetting all identity and belonging
lost and afraid from arriving

Not without her shine
she traveled through a shrine
upon a path that she should find
an apostle in the form of an opposum
who was scared away from her light that blossoms

Continuing to shine and reflect
taking a path to trek around
next found by a skunk walking on the ground
startled by her brightness of sound
the skunk sprayed and ran westbound

This fallen star broke down
distressed, faithless and a mess with stinkiness
around a corner to a cave she would brave
hoping to find comfort in a conclave
but her light shine too bright for the enclosure
causing trouble to the bats not used to the exposure
so they drove her out as a loner

Worn out by disorder she no longer sauntered
but with nowhere to go, through the forest she wandered
looking for answers.

While she traveled looking onward was a hunter
A majestic powerful panther
attracted by the light shown outward
the predator saw an easy target to conquer
Waiting for the moment to pounce and strike
Attacking with sharp teeth and claws
she was strong and withstood the pain that came from his paws
leaving the panther dejected, unable to succeed with a mighty jaw
leaving this star fractured the panther withdrew
and in the field of morning dew did the star come to

Through that awakening she knew
that she needed to hide from others point of view
covered in mud, she patched herself to be hidden
just as the morning sun sets in, the mud began to thicken
allowing no light to penetrate outward from within
Now in search for the known once forgotten

She sees other beings
hoping for love and acceptance
the star mimics and imitates
years pass at the same rate
while she continues to assimilate
A master deceiver is the mask the star creates
so much so that she forgets what she already knows
that deep within is a star’s fiery glow

The mud thickened to a concrete shell
The feeling of who the star was did not sit well
a part always felt apart
separate, in deep longing aware
for something
for somewhere

One day she fell not walking with care
The Fall
a piece of concrete came off what she wears
light spilling through the open air
The light ignites the star from her despair
eager and encouraged to curiously investigate her hair
breaking off the shell of earthenware

In the original state she becomes conscious and aware
of who she truly is and has always been
letting others know and think of their own skin
many followed and broke off their covering
discovering what they have been hiding

This truth changed the world
brighter, more truthful and visible
fallen stars returned to shining far
capable of being who they were meant to be
and who they are

Write everyday, for yourself

Write everyday, for yourself
almost as quickly as you can.
My hand has forgotten the pen, its old best friend
The keyboard has me bored
The screen has turned obscene, with constant flashing and flickering.
Remember our journey’s in journals?
Smoke filled rooms of intoxicated slumber
Creativity sparked by force,
A demand enforced by brute strength,
now the funnels open calmly.

Pour your love into this world,
like a father figure raising a boy or girl,
the future’s options unfold like a flower
of countless pedals,
take time to count each one,
the moment will eventually come,
when enough is enough,
after the tough stuff what else could be this rough?

Writing a book with rhymes

Writing a book with rhymes

Each chapter will pertain to a different time
Characters falling into different lives
Architecture by blueprints & supplies for design
rendering the real to the sublime dream
preparing inventory as the story begins November 2014

NaNo Wri Mo

I am going to give it a try<
maybe try to make you cry
tell something sad  from scratch
to create the happiest apple pie batch
patching the steps of a story is like making a recipe
using the reference of Reality
Experience and critical thinking
the worlds are infinite and unending
pick a time in history
there are catalogs free at the public library

1,666 words a day is about 6 pages
good gracious
Poetry mazes could get lengthy
hunting down the stories once they burst from cages
thirsting for freedom of expression
planned  suspense
the stage is the political demonstration event
at conventions
at Parks, at streets after dark
the mention of a name brought weary hearts

Digitizing the Book of rhymes was the start
we have the statistics, analytics and charts
The Palace of Rhymes has decided it is time
to define an art with parts of pieces as bark and branches
Marks from where it reaches
A new student who is trained to be who teaches
A new prudent view to clue together
the difference between blue skies and bad weather
Black and white as my print type
by the letter it’s only 237<
writing at sixteen hundred words, requires
characters and audiences
audio of  a soundtrack and gps of a map
when it’s technological then everything can expand and collapse
tomorrow after midnight the race to 50k has the first step of the track
Always warming up before and after a lap
running on empty purposely, to gain the intensity

Sincerly John Tabrizi

Also this is 200th post since the beginning of 2013
Glad to be the host of some fun riddling writing

Future creators

The future of poetry is not MP3
or URL’s with IP’s

The future of writing is not typing
or speech recognized verbal decoding
with software and programming

The future of music is not commercializing
or what generates more views for advertising

The future is now,
the future is here

Steer clear of what you won’t allow yourself to hear

Tiers and levels
Frontiers to the unsettled
Premier careers on low gears
machines made of metal
can make one disappear

Pedaling to meddle in, the rebel mandolin musician

invented new mechanisms of rhythm
come and get some
hidden in the inner systems
of a process over the endings

The future of poetry
is spoken openly as well as quietly
behind closed doors, censored, and ignored

The future of writing
becomes more uncompromising with this much stuff surviving
book store closings become common
and online options dramatize the problem

The future of music
blossoms more awesome than we can caution
samples amply supplied
a daily ride
to cut and piece
assemble any pie in the way you wish to feast
open source reinforced the paths we meet
open the force of pathos personally

yours,  the poetry factory

Writing Class

Welcome to the gathering
I write faster when typing
I’d rather be writing than memorizing
Delivery, packaged in the shape of a tape
poetry as a hammer to plan an escape

In a manner sum up syllabic shapes
Fate draped a danger in our knowledge
globally warming the price of attending college

Make friends with rhymers whose advice is polished
public park revolutionaries and martyrs
watered down underground wraps
better than any commercial tracks of scraps
The reason some add a “c” before rap
is because they have not seen BIJAN rap before

Be Infinitely Just & Natural

The Persian poetry is written by John Tabrizi
sincerely it’s not easy
translating to a different society’s reality
Which one is a fantasy?

U n I verse testimony to the universe’s test of expanding

Listen to the cooking in the kitchen
taste the space it takes to form a position
or to perform a mission taking admission
ambition and maintenance
the war machine still has ointment
so like Luddites we cause chaos on cement
selecting appointments
to smooth the rudeness of our disenfranchisement

Perpetual motion of a rise
opening eyes to the sky
living potential to raise the quotients size
reverentially applied to where you reside
never hiding the writings of the most high

The writings of the most high
all point to the sky
the sun, the stars, the moon’s tide
what begun this wild ride
styles aside, the original is home
to the true and tried

In a writing class for lost tribes
the cost is if the story will survive

What I do

People ask me, what do you do?

I write rhymes all the time to stimulate an audience’s mind
Find me at the library reading old stories and the news
crafting blues signed with just this, rendering that which is due its respects

Check the pattern of systematically learned habits
turning hazards in to lessons of modern industrial havoc

I write to fight for equality not social status
uncovering reality’s veil of forgotten tales
madness, through free poetry for sale
who knew the true emcees do so regularly

Bless passages before the sun rises
Expecting a chance to redeem stance on missions to enhance

To elevate with volume, pitch and rate
Mixes a great tape, aesthetically study sounds we create

Bound like seams in books
Found hikes in streams and brooks
Grounded roots branching out of booths
The truth in more available to the youth

Writing to writers trained like fighters and troops
Reading rhythms remembered to sample for loops

A poet turned rapper learned the best way to deliver chapters
is usually not chap books and zines
but by capturing matters in a live showings with mistakes factored by design
Staking the answers into the foundation of a shelter’s mind

I write lines for the palace of rhymes

From writing to music

Freestyle kings only get paid to sing,
and dance for the chance to stay in the scene.

While most lyricists are concerned with writing,
those who use it to music<
are concerned with promotion and advertising.
Consistently learn,
To whom it concerns,
The business society with human like commodities,
Burns our integrity,
glorified to stories of the eyes in the industry,

We need emcees who give history, lessons,
Freestyle kings coming out of hiding, from the dungeon.
To the dojo from exile
updating files on what we know to tell a child.
Go and grow your mind,
it’s worth more than the dollar sign,
I get mine then share,
but it is really more like a repair,
when the place I live controls more than one hemisphere.

Have no fear, my dear,
write a note to connect a scale to a scope,
Reeling reality, holding on to a rope by a thin salary,
but it doesn’t bother me.
Except for, exotic trading of stocks
and more money for military cops.
Over here,
prisons outnumber schools<
so visionaries are important fuel,
to be burned if we did not learn to use our tools.