Writer • Musician
A spark… He wanders in darkness A shadow of himself A stranger he can’t recognize smiling from an old poster sign a tattered flyer tumbling in the city breeze Smiling in dark alleys Looking straight at me! Hell Time to get moving It’s 2017 “you’ve just begun.” But times have changed It don’t belong to …
I never saw the need to call myself a feminist, much less a proud feminist, since the basics of feminism always seemed like common sense. If you exercise common sense, what’s there to be proud of? Nothing. It’s a waste of energy. The crucial detail of common sense is that it’s common. Therefore, just follow …
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JtVSrBRmGQM&feature=youtu.be Music & Lyrics by Ren Michael, Copyright © 2017 As I listen to your wisdom and all the things you hold dear I hear the persistence of your resistance and your fears Though I’m just another daughter, just another son Grown old, grown young, I’m not the only one Well we’ve heard your …
Rock stars were dying. Russians were hacking. Election season never seemed to end. Big wigs were fracking. Last year was difficult for some people. With everything going on, it was easy to overlook one of the more positive events of 2016, which was the honoring of the American National Park Service celebrating its 100th year. …
Continue reading "It Started with a Piano. Alternative Top-Ten, National Parks Edition"
Out in LA, one of my acting teachers would often remind me, along with anyone in class venting any sort of self-frustration, that Rome wasn’t built in a day. Though it was an obvious point, it was easy to forget. Few of the greats, if any at all, were incredible by day one. As a …
I'm a man deeply suspicious of creative how-to’s. That is, any book that advises me on how to approach anything creative. How to write well. How to act. How to draw. How to sing. I woke up this morning and worked on “The Morning Pages”, a daily writing exercise that demands three pages of whatever …
Broward County. I’ve known that name my whole life. Broward. Such a strange sound as I think about it and say it out loud, just a little under my breath. Broooowwwward. To me it’s always meant home. Even though, as I’ve said many times over the course of many writings throughout this young career of …
I first heard the song many years ago and like most people, I most often associated it with the Animals. Then I discovered they weren't the original writers and that Bob Dylan recorded the song before they did. But it wasn't long before I realized Dylan didn't write it either. He only recored it because …
The self-titled debut album "Ren Michael" is now available for download on all digital platforms. The story begins with a girl. She looks, casts one glance in the mirror and is gone no sooner than she arrived, her voice but a whisper as it echoes down the street, leaving the hero alone in the cold …
Every issue in politics, I once said, typically boils down to the fundamental, opposing forces of fear and faith. The faith I’m talking about isn’t religious faith, and that’s why I am skeptical to even use the word. To me, it has nothing to do with religion or even God, at least not the God …
In the wild cathedral evenings On the St. Petersburg canals Near the church at midnight they call 'Spilt Blood' I met a woman singing a song I knew too well She looked at me Her skin stark white a ghost alone, in the dark of the night She smiled at me Her eyes they gleamed …
If there’s anything that I try and avoid writing about, its writing. That being said, I’ll keep this beginning part short. For starters, I really don’t even think of myself as a writer at all. I’m no Hemingway or Kerouac or Walt Whitman. I don’t know how any of those guys fell into the …
As I make my Noon descent I hear my love's been packed and sent I can't be seen with her, she says I'm a blasphemer Though I try to be a good guy, she says every claim is a dirty lie I'm stone-cold, she says I walk down a dark road Oh Lord... Well grab …
I stopped in a small town somewhere in the desert for a quick breakfast. Then I drove farther north until I reached the last town before the mountains. I stopped there to fill up on gas and get supplies, which consisted mainly of sandwich bread, fruit, two cans of tuna and some peanut butter. Then …
I felt like a thief in the night. Maybe it was guilt, a sense that I was betraying someone, or something. I remember a sign, standing tall on the side of the highway while I was driving through the desert. “Blessed are they,” it said, “Who trust in Him.’ Four years ago, I moved to …
https://youtu.be/xXzZp0faoOI Words & Music By Ren Michael Come you princes and gamblers And I’ll tell you a tale About an unborn world From the cold winds of hell I think you will find That my story’s been told, indeed it’s centuries old And though I am young, You may know me quite well. They …
I was standing on a street corner on the outskirts of town Away from some trouble I’d seen come ‘round When I saw an old maiden look my way, and Say “Hey Mr. Moonlight, you're a long way from LA.” Now her hair, it fell funny, and she had teeth of gold She wore on …
Reading John Muir's My First Summer in the Sierra makes me wish that over the past few years, I had kept a more comprehensive journal detailing my own travels, along with my many encounters and experiences in Los Angeles; as opposed to what I fear might only amount to scattered, disconnected ramblings and loose sketches based on the things I …
When I'm on the move, I write in verse Small poems to most accurately or honestly reflect the things going on around me, and how I feel about those things Often times, most of the time, these poems aren't any good But other times, they turn out alright. Simple. To the point. Just getting the …
Ren Michael 