Rooftop Poetry Club - Daniel Dorociak

Daniel Dorociak

Bio:
Educated at Buffalo State University of New York, Daniel Dorociak has experienced a wide range of creative process and expression. Daniel's poetry has been included in various publications such as Black Spring Review, Lit.Org, The Buffalo News, Tales From the Moonlit Path, Tangent Literary Arts Magazine. Daniel's work has many formats (poetry, short stories, visual communication, etc.) From these he finds a continuous source of inspiration and creative drive. His desire to create is continuous, "When concept and application combine a wonderful visceral experience is destined to emerge, I search for such expression continuously".

Poems:

Digging Teeth From Dirt

Tired and worn I push deep into the earth
seeking a remnant of the past.

Looking for tales of man and beast,
traditional methods are painstaking and dirty
but digging teeth from dirt is more rewarding
than seeing their whereabouts upon
a laptop.

Quick and easy distorts pride and
benefits those motivated by greed.

Tradition is more than age, it is a sense
of accomplishment and honor.

Listen carefully as the old weep and watch as
their efforts seep into thin downed tales of
glory.

New and Old can coexist in theory,
finding balance between the two might be the
answer but it is greed and speed that control
the new and chips away at tradition.

In time the new will replace the old and eventually
become that which it overcame, what will happen
next? What will be the new, the now? Will the
physical act of digging become a tale told by those
who remember stories whispered by grandfathers.

In the stead of tradition digitized images and sonar
systems are taking precedence and soon they will
prevail, such a future frightens me but not in a
fearful way. It is the loss of value and honor that
rips at my heart.

Still this is my day, my time and for now I will
indulge in this tradition,
I will cherish the dust upon my brow,
the sweat that drips,
the strength from my beating heart and the burn in
my biceps as I manipulate shovel and pick while
digging teeth from dirt.

This Husk of Mine

There exists a battle within me.
I do not know where it sleeps,
I am not aware of how it creeps
into this mind it digs so deep.

A war of conscious beats upon my
sense of right and wrong and as I peel
this husk of mine a gloom emerges
thin and long.

As I peel this husk of mine a
collection of forgotten memories
become revived.
If I were an evil man I would strike
like a monster, no fear, no regret,
pure carnage.

My hate renewed in an abstract form
like a mountain comprised of fear
and scorn.
Another obstacle to clear away,
a mountain of hatred impeding my way.
Chipping through this mountain creates
more hate, less fear.
A desensitized man built from dust and
stone soon to appear.

With much pain I choose to climb instead
of burrow now back on track I twist,
I tug and with every tear a sense of
structure strengthens my grip.

As I peel away this husk of mine a battle
grows within me. I do not know where it
sleeps, I am not aware of how it creeps
into this mind it digs so deep, I twist
and turn to find my way,
I choose to climb.