Returning to the blank canvas before me, I’m left wondering-
What rabble will spew forth to occupy the space I feel a need to fill?
These words.
Right now.
(dot, dot, dot)
So far all I can piece together is a desire for change.
Not to say that I/We don’t change every day, that’s rhetorical-
I’m talking about the kind of change that elevates you enough to enter a new level of understanding.
As someone once referred to as one being,
“The next step never taken”.
Although conveying the darker parts of our lives through writing or any other physical manifestation that we attempt to piece ourselves back together is a good lubricant for the wounded…
What about when you run out of ink?
When the poetry of our lamentations come to an end?
When we’re left alone to the emptiness of our worlds, lying in bed tormented until we finally drift asleep…
And then, dreams.
Some would say ‘nightmare’.
As much as we try to forget, our sub-conscious never does.
Sounds like someone stuck out on the first try.
So, now what?
It all seems so hopeless sometimes.
Like, who is REALLY the audience of our writing?
That brings me to say that, maybe it’s not enough.
This is of course my ramble so it may not apply to you but-
I think it’s time to make a change that’s going to change the direction of my life. I’m so tired of just writing my pain out and finding myself only pretending like it’s helped.
Please don’t get me wrong, Art and music are the two catalysts that have gotten me through the hardest times. I glorify creativity.
But I’m not contradicting myself when I say that it’s not enough.
I simply mean, maybe we should take a few steps back and see where we are right now.
Are you satisfied?
If so, good for you.
But to the rest-
Now that you see “where you are”, Why are you there?
Is it something You/I aren’t doing?
In fact, have we been the very variable keeping ourselves imprisoned?
We are 100% responsible for the choices we’ve made that have vicariously landed us front row in what ever section of life we happen to be in at this point.
Good or bad.
But it’s never too late to make the choice today, that will affect your tomorrow.
It’s just so easy to get caught up in the now and find yourself looking back going “where the hell did the last 5 years go?”
And that’s exactly where I am now.
Stuck on repeat going nowhere.
I acknowledge that most of the great art in this world is born from the pain of the artists soul…
But maybe bringing out the pain again, and again to create a new facet within your work is nothing more than a wasted self inflicted wound.
Maybe we should focus on the light…
Hard to depict, but well worth the effort.
And I think if we really try to shift our emotional agenda, we would find ourselves waking up and going to sleep much happier.
Choose to make a change-
Leave your pain in the rain.
Peace.
__________________ This lamentation of me, is just an imitation of me. Who I am and what you see, you will never know.
100% drivvle: disjointed, ridiculous punctuation, passive-aggressive rambling not even remotely contained or qualified by hack rehashings of tired pseudo-spiritual doodly squat.
Then of course there's the part where the 3 ducks come out from under the covers with matching Flower of Life tattoos.
Duck 2: "Quack."
Duck 3: "Quack quack."
Duck 1: "Ka-quack kak."
Duck 2: "Quakak?"
Duck 1: "Kak."
Duck 3: "Quack?"
Duck 1: "Kak quack Steve Perry quack?"
All Ducks (with growing fervour): "Kak. kak. Ka-kakaka quackyoureakak!" The ducks cough, phlegm rockets skyward, feathers fly everywhere. They continue: "Kaaaaaaaaaa quack you're a hack."
Last edited by Any Old Ghost; 03-16-2010 at 01:17 PM..
Mostly dead, and still alive.
Lies fly sprung from your mouth, surprise--surprise.
Your truths betray you through your eyes.
The contrast in between, do I despise.
Dethroned, and exposed in the light
Alterior motives, I will find you and capsize.
In a moment you realize, I see you inside.
Your intentions are held utterly in the sunlight
I know you so well, but we’ve never met.
Ever readily I forgive, Never the less, I forget.
Re-creating a purpose to neglect the regret.
Never you worry, Never you fret.
Needy hole remain when I remove your need-
Never to fill or forget…
__________________ This lamentation of me, is just an imitation of me. Who I am and what you see, you will never know.
Devour life to survive, this life might pacify.
Sacrifice time for a place to hide, taken captive by flight.
Right kind, right size.
Deny lies.
No one dies.
Realize the shell.
Here in this hell.
Dematerialize.
Capsize.
One day we’ll fly,
You and I.
Only light between us.
Sky never divide-
Open wide, where would we hide.
What then, when the light goes dim, and the roof caves in?
Start again?
Reinvent and begin?
Have I always been this way?
I pray for the day.
Why walk away?
Face your savior.
Merciful maker.
Forgive us, our unsavory behavior.
Replace the taste of empty space.
Show me the way-
Separate.
Slip away.
Surrender.
Remember me my master-
In my next disaster.
Deliver the remainder to the next destination.
Inspiring new creation.
Pain is an illusion.
Confusing path to self-pity.
My face was never pretty.
Fortunate flesh will fade-
Chase the shade away.
Bright light.
Guide my eyes, wise weeper.
__________________ This lamentation of me, is just an imitation of me. Who I am and what you see, you will never know.
Every time I look into your eyes, I know how the ocean feels while admiring the moon.
And I wonder does the moon, then too, admire the ocean in the same way?
Then I am reminded that no one alive or passed has ever had a vision of beauty, the way I see you.
No flower ever held the light, in any season, the way you hold my heart, now and forever.
You are in my every thought and action, my sweet Amber.
Even the air I breathe is foreign to me without you, and eventually I will suffocate if I can't breathe you in, if only a taste inside for a moment.
I can still remember...
When we made love, even the angels would weep, and through a veil of crystalline glass, I could see their tears begin to well yet again, for True Love lives between us-
And nothing can separate that.
__________________ This lamentation of me, is just an imitation of me. Who I am and what you see, you will never know.
Reaching for the random or whatever will bewilder me..
Thanx Gonz.
no problem.
seeing it's saint patricks' day and all, i'm giving a nod ta the irish.
a cheer to Joyce. to writing something that they'll still be talking about for centuries.
words are a path...
__________________ Time is still the infinite jest.
