Biography of Michael Ardizzone
I was born not too long ago in a suburban hospital in New Jersey. I grew up in my hometown-lived there throughout my formative years with a good family in a two story house. I go to college currently in Poughkeepsie, NY at Marist College, studying Computer Science (my major) and Writing (my minor) . Currently I'm in a program that will allow me to graduate after five years of schooling with both a BS and MS in Software Development.
My eyes have been a trouble since I was very young and though I wear glasses now, I can never hope to see the world how it should be seen. As such, I've developed a different way of looking at things. Everything is rich with metaphor and significance to me-sometimes it is overwhelming. This is my inspiration to write.
My skill in writing was slow to develop. I didn't grow into anything close to a writer until I was 16 and discovered that I enjoyed writing poetry. The past five years have been speckled with spurts of poetic productivity. I read poetry every day from both amateur and professional authors. I try to study and hone my art as much as I can while I work and go to school.
I'm still not a quick reader, though I greatly enjoy reading novels, it takes me a month to get through one. I enjoy being immersed in another world and drawing the emotions from the characters into myself, feeding on them. These emotions inspire much of my work. Likewise, I need all the emotion I can get-I tend to be a loner. My friends are few and close, but none seem to appreciate poetry as much as I do, so I've come on the internet seeking like-minded individuals.
Michael Ardizzone Poems
All of your nonsense is sense to me your truth I'll take for any that can be. I'll suffocate in the fruit that you bear and dedicate myself to a strand of your hair.
The heavens may forget that lovers sit on idle haunches waiting for the stars to fall for lust to make manifest.
Technology's Siren Song
A faith so strong shall fall before the end to gods: the men who shatter wills on truth and fruitless will their search come to an end for truth will conquer strength and hope with proof.
The Erosion Of Faith
Wakened by the turbulence of thought and fed by hopes more insolent than lies, this log we need, too soon shall start to rot when on it stands the one who holds the skies
A Collapse Of Conscience
It's a way to live: (in this space between the stars) all the falling happens with opened arms.
A Sonnet For Cliched Lovers
The strength I draw from you I make my own to fight for you so happy you can be and of this strength I hope it's eas'ly shown through strength for you my love enhanced be.
I. Poetry is taking a blind man and trying to describe the rainbow to him using no adjectives.
Like a fire that sucks all the air from the room she enters and drains my hope into a reservoir of love. A collection of choices made once now will alternate forever forever altering my mindset, my set of hopes and dreams
I Hate Writing
The ability to torture the reader, Like other writers torture me, Is a comfort.
It Is Better To Live Than To Love At All
There once was a man who thought it was better to love than to live at all.
I have a creeping suspicion that life is a collection of no in a container of yes.
Men with knives can hurt themslves As much as truth’s been soiled Men tell truths with lies at heart Their hearts will get them boiled.
Sun To None
Deaf speakers feed me my life with a spoon longer than the plank
Getting older: So fast leaves grow from bud to stem they unfold, awaiting
There's no glass left
to break in my hand
when I make a fist.
There's no strength left
in my swollen pride
to make a fist.
and to raise it,