Complications: A Collection of Poetry

By Joseph R. Granato

Complications is a collection of poetry focusing on the most pressing issues – money, marriage, family, religion, sex, war, politics, fame, a good job, a nice car, a big house, education, lifestyles, drugs, love, health, friendship, death – that we face in our journey through this obstacle called life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Joseph R. Granato
• Release date: Apr 9, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311850133

Joseph R. Granato

Joseph R. Granato was born in New York. He lived in Miami for twenty-five years and in 2012 moved to Brussels, Belgium. He recently relocated to the Washington D.C. area with his wife and two sons. He has both a law degree and a film degree and currently acts as a legal consultant. He has been writing poems, short stories and screenplays since he was a teenager. He has also written, produced and directed more than a dozen short films. Joseph received the Best Director award at the West Palm Beach Film Festival in 2001 for his short film A Rare Case of Rejection. He has publishing credits in several books of poetry including the Best Poetry of 2001 and the Best Poetry of 2002 by the International Society of Poets, Theatre of the Mind by Noble House Publisher (2003) as well as the International Who's Who in Poetry 2012 by Poetry Productions. His debut novel, Cemetery Tales, was published in 2015. Joseph’s collection of poetry, Complications, spans more than twenty years of writing.

Book preview

Dedicated to those who stood with me on the brink of the abyss…and then walked through it beside me.

After a while you learn,

The subtle difference between holding a hand and chaining a soul,

And you learn -

That love doesn’t mean leaning,

And company doesn’t always mean security,

And you begin to learn -

That kisses aren’t promises,

And you begin to accept your defeats,

With your head up and your eyes ahead,

With the grace of a woman,

Not the grief of a child,

And you learn -

To build your roads on today,

Because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans,

And futures have a way of falling down in midflight,

After a while you learn -

That even sunshine burns if you use too much,

So you plant your own garden,

And decorate your own soul,

Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers,

And you learn that you really can endure,

That you really are strong and you really do have worth,

And you learn -………And you learn -………

With every goodbye,

You learn.

- Rosemarie Vecchio

I

Stumbling across the scene,

The neon lights screaming in our eyes,

Come in,

Come in,

To the chosen place of entertainment,

Dance underneath the bass,

Drink above the scaled surface of the underground world,

Beauty,

Fashion,

Entities of the modern society,

Who is who in our world unknown?

II

I ask you again finally,

Do you know how to stop hurt,

And still keep the soul unalarmed from the atrocities of dreaming?

I will tell you a thing or two,

To find another story to relay,

Tell me your thoughts,

And their meanings,

The undeclared,

Lingering memories,

That time has washed away.

III

Say a prayer for shortened lives,

Sing a hymn for endless times,

Tell a tale of the cometh dawn,

Outreached cries will soon be gone,

We find ourselves amongst the myths,

Broaden our minds with every kiss.

IV

When will the summer end,

And lead us into fall?

For it is in the time of fallen leaves,

That one’s heart and mind changes,

And where,

But under the sunken tree of old,

Does youth rejuvenate,

Teach us,

Oh wise autumn,

Of the days when not even you changed,

Why must there be greens that turn brown,

Yellow,

Hazed purple,

And fire red?

If they remained constant would they cease to grow?

Is change itself the reason for four long seasons of change,

And change again?

Do not hold back wise autumn,

The thoughts forever contemplating,

Break through and preach to us,

All that you know,

So that we may understand the ways of change.

V

Too cool a toon town tune,

Do I sing to,

That makes me spring the midnight blue-clue,

I should have been a Roman Emperor,

Don’t disturb me or anger me,

Or I’ll put on my gladiator outfit,

Humorous incentives as we land on land no longer there,

The sky beneath has fallen,

When I awoke on the moon,

To find her there,

Naked in purification oils,

How happy I am to have arrived safely,

Too many things to do,

Clapping hands bringing a warm welcome to my soul,

Brandy-filled visors of the young ladies welcome,

Thin again, she said,

Yes,

Better than the rest of them,

Too many miles I’ve wandered,

I miss my old self that is undoubtedly gone for good.

VI

Heat rises,

Leaving traces,

Cold freezes,

Destroying spaces,

Summer,

Summer,

Whispering wind,

Winter,

Winter,

Will I see you again?

Departing heavily across the sky,

Pacing steadily through my eye,

Withering lights,

And soft dye,

Blistering sights

Off a simple lie,

Let morning reach,

Rising again,

Before the evening,

Sets in the end,

Racing,

Pleading,

Screaming a sigh,

Leaving darkness,

For another try,

Sadness creeping,

Drains a tear from a cry,

Another image leaps through my mind,

Of beauty and glory,

Left behind.

VII

We are going,

Traveling,

Not knowing the absurdities of reconciled affirmations,

Placing themselves in foxholes,

Death and trench victories,

Colliding with masterful incendiaries,

The unrelenting pursuit of transformation,

To reach a higher place,

Undermining the theories and reconnaissance of the day,

The time,

The era known not only,

They called me again,

Complaining,

Anxiously wondering who and why,

Withholding images from our minds,

Catapulting distasteful hatred from within,

Let us scream,

Rage,

Purge ourselves of the inexplicable madness that drains us into a state