It Doesn't Snow In Florida.

Posted by Gabrielo Banks | 7:25 PM | 0 comments »

It Doesn't Snow In Florida (Download Link)

In Naples, Florida, the sun set low and crimson, its final rays shimmered coolly on the waves tiding gently onshore the golden beach. I held my dearest Floella’s hand within mine, enjoying the silence. I admired her features most when she beheld reverence for something genuinely awe inspiring. Whether it be art of a distinct message or nature’s common process, her gentle green eyes observed with an air of wide eyed meditation. That with her rosy red lips near the same shade except bolder than her radiant locks that swayed in the wind as a cool late November wind gust blew. She shivered slightly and I, comforting her with my coat, held her close, wishing that it could have been a cooler gust, so I had an excuse to hold her more tightly.

Soon it was dusk and we made our way back to her car, a pink bug. There, she swirled leaning almost uneasily against the car, abated. I went in to kiss her, but she stopped me. I looked deeply in her eyes for an explanation during the pause, but all that I saw was my look of anguished surprise. “Icarus, you are sweet. You really are,” Floella said, as if she gave a damn. ”But we just have too many things going on in different directions. It is like you think one way and I’m thinking the opposite. And… do you understand?”

I nodded. She allowed me one last hug, and we parted ways. Though I rambled and cursed and filled myself with frustration, and though the red hot fury from rejection encompassed every manner of my being. At the bottom of my heart a base sentiment emerged, and I did understand because it whispered softly like the crisp silver wind under the then black sky. I understood her brilliance, beauty, and talent. And I loved her.


(Click the title to download and continue.)

The Revolution Will Be Live

Posted by Gabrielo Banks | 8:18 PM | 0 comments »

The Basij, veterans and youths, armed with big sticks rush women and men who protest peacefully. The IRG, men with bigger sticks that go boom, shoot bullets in minds cultivated by progressive universities. Police stand idly by. Moderates are revolutionaries. And liberals are barbarians. The red figure themselves the Will of the Almighty, and the green hope that the God of their laws understands civil disobedience. Fathers, Mothers, Sons, Daughters, Lovers all write letters saying goodbye to each other because a green sea will crash against a rock in the hopes that the boulder will not crumble, but transmute... All of this happening worlds away while I am still dreaming, skipping on clouds.

NEW PROJECTS

Posted by Gabrielo Banks | 6:01 PM | 0 comments »

My mind is pretty much blowing up with ideas. I got my poetry ideas. Let's do those first.

Project Lame.
This will be a serious free verse poem with short pages. Inspired by some of the poetry in the May Poetry Magazine.

Project Flowers.
Collection of Haiku with the subject of flowers based off the women in my life.


In the fiction region of my mind I'm working on:

"Resurrection"
Character based story with the protagonist being the antagonist of my screenplay.

"Bless You"
A grimly humorous short short story following the epiphany of an outcast triggered by a simple "Bless You."

Haiku

Posted by Gabrielo Banks | 1:25 PM | 0 comments »

Some haiku stumble
And break. Never flowing true.
But do what you must.

Im back.

Posted by Gabrielo Banks | 2:43 PM | 0 comments »

I woke up happy it was Monday
Expecting it to rain
The shine sunned all day
Until the clouds came.

I'm going to the fair.

Posted by Gabrielo Banks | 2:57 PM | 0 comments »

I'm going to the fair.
And I'm gonna have a share
Of cotton candy and chocolate fudge
With Coozie the clown's hair.

8 mile HaikU

Posted by Gabrielo Banks | 7:05 PM | 0 comments »

Sorry... gotta cut it short today. 2 tomorrow... Prolly... Yes.... Maybe.

Nobody will chance
Their own aims, goals, dreams, careers
For my golden shot.