Anthony Frisina's Blog

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Category: poetry

You´ll get there…

what’s that real voice i hear inside?
the one sneaking through all the other ones…
You´ll get there

when i am walking down the street, intense, in one of my
mentally deranged arguments with myself,
when i question if i am able to decipher that voice from the rest of the chatter,
i feel the words…
You´ll get there

wondering where that voice of Om went,
the same one that whispered to me many years ago,
getting me started on this journey
with the encouragement…
You´ll get there

and now that i am here,
with my ultimate manifestation at its peak,
i try again to hear it,
to remember how to feel grateful,
because it is too easy just to be grateful, just to say it,
And then suddenly it washes over me…
You´ll get there

and among the voices that recall
the nightmares i used to fear as a child,
bobbing alone in the middle of the endlessness of the ocean
and watching myself from miles up,
how small i was, how insignificant I felt on this earth,
it tells me as i lose my thoughts and spiral into habit…
You´ll get there

staring out at my red clay veranda
the crystal blue skyline of Aveiro in the background
me, here, somehow, at my glass desk, writing,
still searching,
still reminding myself, constantly…
You´ll get there

and then, suddenly, it emcompasses me
takes over all the other noise:
life, and all we do in it,
is not about where we are going
There is not a goal, a result, a destination
life is a process, here
living is the process, now
and just like that
once again
i am no longer striving to get there,
because I am already here


trust myself

From now on, i trust myself…

“You are stupid,” they would always say.
“Educate yourself before you open your mouth.”
So i read and asked questions
So i learned and learned and learned

“You think you are so smart,” they would then say.
“What have you ever done? Where have you ever gone?
You are all talk.”
So i left and traveled across countries, lived in the slums
So i started experiencing what life was elsewhere

“You are so righteous,” they would say to me then.
“You think you are better than me? You consume just the same.”
So i purged and purged, let go, released
So i began to live off of other´s garbage, their clothes and leftovers

“You are still a hypocrite,” they then lashed.
“How have you made the world better?”
So i dedicated my life to helping those my culture has destroyed
So i submerged myself in death, deformation, disease and desperation

“You are just angry, now, all of the time,” they condemned.
“Just be more like me. Let go. Take care of yourself.
So i found inner peace
So i learned to live in balance, serenity, agape

“Have you ever made a difference,” they then mocked me with.
“Will you ever make a difference?
Have you accomplished anything?”
So I decided, finally, once and for all, to bury
it all, them all, from my past, from my present, from my future
So now i sit here, in glorious, rich mourning,
grateful i am no longer one of any of them

So now i understand wisdom
So now i ignore the devil´s ignorance
So now i continue on my pilgrimage…

and from now on, i trust myself


the era of masks

I used to ask if there was a place for dreamers in this world,
if a literal poet can survive,
if anyone really cares and suffers as a result anymore?

Now i ask…
Has the era of the romantics really come to an end?
I sit on the front porch watching the rain,
live oaks drinking it all in before the summer droughts.
In the background, people coming and going coming and going.
We have figured out the game, hacked it
and now we are bored
coming and going.
Everyone has seen behind the curtain now
and so we have stopped believing in magic.

Those who claim happiness are delusional.
It is an ideal as dangerous as depression.
Happiness ignores the sad pain that wraps her arms around this world,
prevents us from feeling actual reality,
ignores the mix of hunger pangs, nausea, and marshmallows
all someone caught in the throat.

My life is not a movie, or a book, or a work of art.
My life is minutes through air and words on a page.
No one is going to see me, nor should.
No one is going to read this, nor should,
yet i have been conditioned since birth to be on display.
They forced my skin to be thick,
but the skin never heals the branding.
My scars are forever.

Allow me to hide in here, please.
With you, give me a home for this moment.
The world hurts too much.
Noise keeps coming from all sides and i talk and talk and talk
because it is the only way for me to not hear it all, feel it all.
I blast metal and chaos into my ears, as loud as I can,
trying to drown it all out,
the pain and the rhetoric and the righteousness.

Some of us just feel too much.
Some of us feel everything,
and are surrounded by suffering and hopelessness
and this false myth of happiness everyone is hopelessly suffering for.
I believed it all was going to change,
but the era of masks has outlasted the era of the romantic,
and us few empaths scattered among the masses of your society
are helpless against your onslaught;
We are alone throughout the night
hearing, listening to the weeping sobs seeping from our earth
feeling, like buried splinters, each and every out of tune frequency
knowing how to give what is needed
knowing only how to give, and never to receive.

We are a one way door with endless hands waiting to grab what they can from us…

We few bear the burden of the denial of those delusionally happy…

I understand that all of these sentiments might simply be
a passing feeling, a storm to weather,
but it really does seem we all work from home now
(The Era of Practicality)
and we are proud to be individuals
(The Death of Romanticism)
as i watch the sun rise behind the rain,
dreaming, absorbing, crying,
surrounded by walls of mirrors,
wondering too much, gripped to deeply,
typing away in the grey sadness that is “America”.


keep dreaming

I am a dead man, with ghosts, everyday, passing through me, reminding me: Keep Dreaming.  I watch an imaginary screen exposing me to two-dimensional love, filling me with hope of the tragedy I long ago stopped believing in…Keep Dreaming. Read the rest of this entry »

two poems from the old man bar

Pour me another pitcher of wine.
My preference is to drink to life
rather than hide from death.

Face me, Fear!
Look me in the eye, coward,
because there is nothing you can take from me anymore.
My life will not be wasted embracing you
as I push on forward towards the inevitable. Read the rest of this entry »

ART, NOT DEBT is Launched!!!

Hi there everyone.  So, I would like to believe at least one of you has been wondering where I am and why I have not posted in a while.  Well, I have been working on a new project called ART, NOT DEBT.

It started like this.  Years ago, I was watching a football game and thought, If 1/3 of the people there gave me one dollar, I’d be debt free.  After years of not having the nerve to start asking people for a buck, a really close friend of mine pushed me over the edge where logic meets insanity.

$15,000 in debt; 15,000 people; 15,000 poems.

That’s right.  I am asking you for one dollar.  And, in the realm of paying it forward and re-creating a world where art and not commerce is our major influence, I will dedicate my life for the next few years to doing the most soul-satisfying thing I do…Writing Poetry.

$1.  That’s it.  Won’t you help??


THANKS and See Ya Soon


My Mountains

I always seem to convince myself that my resources are tapped.

I always know I am great

I just believe I am empty.

I often find the courage,

it’s the confidence that seems to hide.

So, I tend to do what’s necessary…

trust in the simple fact

that life just keeps on going…

it’s been here before

it will be here after

one step in front of the other

when eventually, moments arise

moments when I am out of body

moments when I am away from home

far from my country

wandering strange mountains trying to befriend strange people

Read the rest of this entry »

Farewell Poem (23 July 11)

It seems that all the ghosts are coming out for a haunting…

The chaos is creating pressure

testing us for what we stand for

and we are crumbling;

I am running

you are pushing

and it feels like everyone else is just laughing.


We are both stranger than truth

but we seem not to care;

no effort to hang on.


We used to be romantics and dreamers…

When did we make love a consolation prize?


I’ll be flying over this great country soon

not knowing where I’ll be going

preferring to remain ignorant about some things.

I know another adventure is beginning

and I wish you were going

because somewhere over the past year

we both offered up our selfishness for unity

combining our energy to experience life rather than society;

to climb low and fall high and fly right beside God’s endless land.


I have seen my dreams and I miss making them real;

they become a burden when held in only two arms

and I suppose that is why we live…

but how sweet it would have been

if you were willing to trust

and stuck by me

along side me

and chose life over labor.




i remember

I remember the way it was
I remember feeling like I did not matter
I remember becoming a number

I remember that day
I remember all of those days
I remember the arrogance
I remember the smirk
I remember the proof
I remember we the people not caring

I remember the smoke
I remember the smell of bodies
I remember the anger
I remember the loathing
I remember the hatred
I remember the world pleading for unity
I remember the defiance, the solitude
I remember the lack of remorse
I remember, over and over, “with us or against us”
I remember the disgrace
I remember the declaration
I remember the pictures
I remember the lies
I remember the second declaration
I remember the faked evidence
I remember pitting citizen against citizen

I remember the closed door, the back door
I remember the surveillance
I remember bill after bill stripping rights
I remember the scandals
I remember the torture
I remember the division
I remember the collapse

I remember the acceptance of fear
I remember the segregation
I remember “for your safety, and the safety of others”

I remember the discrimination
I remember schools getting packed
I remember jobs being lost
I remember the suicides, the opioids, the homeless
I remember bombs being made, hotels being made
I remember the black cloud over us all

I remember staring at the blank television screen where the coffins draped with American flags should have been.

I remember zero sense of sacrifice
I remember never being asked
I remember being encouraged not to

When you ask me about my bias and my scorn…
When you mock me for being too angry…
When you question my honor and my motives…
When you remind me that it is all in the past…
When you scold me for recalling that past…
When you ignore me for insisting you also do…

I remember

I remember the cowardice of my fellow citizens
I remember the lack of accountability
I remember the people of the republic accepting and demanding no responsibility
I remember no one really cared

Take off the masks, stop hiding
Understand why and how we are blinded
Question instead of answer

But until that time
I will keep remembering

I will hold strong to my beliefs

I was there…
I remember




changing the world

Here is a poem that will change the world

It is not about love

nor is it political in nature

nothing about the history of hypocrisy

or the hypocrisy of the hipsters who have

taken over for no real reason but hypocrisy

There are no strange lands, magical creatures or garden gnomes

Alliteration, metaphors and onomatopoeia

will be suspended for the next few lines and pages

as will all strife to pour out my soul senselessly for strangers

(that’s really the last of it)

Yearning will cease

Anger tempered

Jealousy forgiven

Depression suppressed

After all, the world cannot change two dimensionally


Kings do not exist in this poem

No hierarchies, oligarchies or comics named archie

Fascism, rainbows, democracy, natural disasters

all sacred gods we have create are believed in no more

This, for the sake of worldly adjustment

Eliminated are all sunroofs, all windows, all screen doors

and equally

al mosquitoes, all lightening, all air cooling units

Movies are banned for forcing upon us alternate realities

Artists will skin the paint from their canvases

and displace it to hide the doors of the markets

so that the bells will ring in the financial corridors no more

Grammar, dots, slashes, swoops and spelling

do not matter in the least bit


No more jokes

Forget about mail, electronic or owl post

no more phone fax telegram wire-on-a-can

in fact

in this world

communication will halt for all but present company


Roads have been deemed unnecessary

ships may not be larger than a raft

planes have forgotten how to fly

unless carried on the backs of migrating birds

Taken away is the nostalgia of yearning times

as well as the yearning for new nostalgic memories

Synthesized music and food will not be tolerated

Pollution of any and all varieties

whether it be verbal sewage or toxic sludge

will be stripped from every crack of intention

In addition, all resources will be buried back into the earth


There is no structure

(if indeed it is going to change the world)

Buildings to rubble to dust to mud


This poem is not about religion or zealots

abortion, death, torture are removed from its boundaries

Opinions do not matter here

facts never existed

roe models have no part to play

all bridges lead to the horizon

and any point forgotten

may be added

let us begin


here is a poem that will change the world…