It’s hard to express exactly what it is that people dig, but if you’re any sort of a risk taker you’ll soon find out.
She smokes a cigarette and it’s fucking gorgeous. I think one drag would kill me, but I’d stand close enough for her exhale to burn my eyes, and sound like totally uncool striking up a conversation while I’m clearly holding my breath waiting for diffusion and air flow to make the coast clear.
Zing, em’ like Minos’s Minotaur
fuck, I’m sorry that you’re lost.
Cause ya know, somewhere inside,
I cannot find the feeling I got from you
How long have we been here?
Long enough that it’s clear.
Clear that…
That you and the rest aren’t going anywhere.
Not anywhere fast, but still going!
Was it a ghost? or one of the voices you hear in your head?
You go through life and wonder what the hell happened.
It’s so fast; I lounge in the current
Many things take me away from you.
What the hell happened?
I write this in an aftermath that still I am grasping like cramped and exhausted fingers – palms and pads burning, the sensation that layers of skin may tear open, peeled from the bones; still trying to grip
No kisses, no hugs, it’s clear this isn’t what it was, much more complex now – you don’t want touch – and I don’t want the permeating feeling that I am not enough. I will not be..
You see, I’ve lived my life as honest as I could. Which is hard because we all have issues. And no one understands them. We barely understand our own.
Leaving used to be the hardest thing,
I promise it can be done with ease
I hear you got married,
and all I can think is thank you for all the inspiration,
glad you found a good man.
Don’t try so hard, those are the one’s who get let down the most
I guess I forgot as a grown man with an open heart inside, Ataraxia, the shores of which I always speak of leaving – something like me needs the storm. You say you’re curious. I call all 9’s, dressed to the nines. I’ll show up, and we’ll just ride. Words only once we’re back from the sky.
There is simply not enough time for this world;
every day is a sacrifice of one thing for another.
Maybe we’ll have it, or maybe we won’t.
I could have had everything I wanted for free,
in the end I paid for everything I didn’t want to go away
I had something I was writing you; it wasn’t a sonnet or anything like an ode, limerick, or quatrain-no it was just something-nothing like a burlesque, or villanelle You know it had shape, and sound, and visual! Perhaps a rondeau
I got it all mixed up and by mistake discovered ways of seeing things I could never have found on purpose
What good is all this money, if all it can buy is a first class ticket 6ft under.
Composure or coolness, sometimes excessive, as shown in danger or under trying circumstances.
Joie de vivre, I’ll buy you roses all the time like a creep!
Say it over and over, play it how you want but I do not alter what I put up.
I will walk away with nothing and feel my heart grating against the bottom.
It must feel something to be apart of the greater definition
As the clock round, It became so wretchedly painful – to not love who I was – that when I finally did, the pain did not cease for as I loved me in that moment, the I was just minutes gone; a lingering smile on the face of someone new. A ghostly sense that I knew the previous tenant of the building, but only nostalgia would ever return.
Temporary. It is all fleeting. And I just wanted to catch a glimpse of the mind space I’ve entered. A golden soul, and I want to transmute it to lead and back again so I can say I did the hardest task twice; I’d even risk never returning because I’m okay with leaving the shore.
Be light, be water, adapt, and grow, you beautiful ambiance,
when I come into a room I ask them to set the mood to you.
Aura aura, warm glow. You are the fire spark I want to grow.
—————————————————————-
“Whoso list to hunt, I know where is an hind,
But as for me, hélas, I may no more.”
The place I seek is the shore that is no more.
A historical moment that is out of reaches!
No work, but memory can return it,
And only briefly before the bellows
overwhelm with today’s fire
When you wake up, it isn’t what it was the night or day before.
Leave me, leave me, leave me – We’ve been nothing but trouble.
Counter views, and frame colliding perspectives, now empathy.
“I feel a sudden clear focus and perspective. There is no time for anything inessential. I must focus on myself, my work and my friends.” – Oliver Sacks
“Not being able to create art, they will not understand art.”
I have become very fond of our scuttling, our tossing and turns
Where are we going but in the arms of another once more,
into the rays of the brightest days ahead, and the soothing darksShadows passing by, to a classical promenade – we’re filled
with the ecstasy of a new favorite taste,
touch upon these tongues the juice of gods
the dripping filth of a fruit truly enjoyed, flesh devoured.
You dove in and let the primal loose, and used your skin like a paint brush,
Dragging across the sky until every star shone precisely how you desired,
and you desired a lot – You desired that every breath be held properly as you moved,
and passed with a right amount of resistance, a reminder that something in you is raging
to leave its mark! Clawing with every neural snap, every electrical pulse, POW – it will
leave the walls of your room dripping if that’s where you want the master work, it calls;
a summoning howl to the torrents within, dangerous, but magic always wins.
I hold the sacrificial dirk, a dirge dripping in blood,
it’s clear I keep making choices.
You ever make a mistake while actively knowing it,
and say, “ah fuck it.” ?
Life you showed me,
doing nothing because of sense
But because it struck the senses;
Because it felt good.
You did things this way because you lived out a different chord with different rules and expectations; things that applied to you and only you. To say I understood could only be a man trying with every sinew to convince the other in an argument, with passion that he struggled, and knew what it meant to live from your center.
How presumptuous. How pompous.
I wanted it though, o I wanted to comprehend, I deserved to for all I’d worked towards — to be at one with that mind and give it my nod of approval. But fuck approval. Every entity that seeks it dips into the darkness afraid of its own shadow. And that thing which I wanted, would no longer be desired if it sought to illuminate the dark out of fear for what might be beneath its cover. Go into the dark curious; feel on your hands and knees – claw for discovery, and be beset by hunger no more.
Everything is a sacrifice — What will you wither, what will you grow?
I draw you–in–many don’t go down this road.
There is too much to do,even with what we have we’re short – we’ll make it work
Never doing what I’m supposed to be doing,
and maybe I won’t do what I should,
but I’ll end up doing what I’ve done,and that is something.
I’ll enjoy this with ceremony
I see photos with remarkable composure and draw, I see smiles on the faces of those in her closest circle, I read extremely well written words with impact. I sit in wonderment more times a month than I imagined would occur over the years
I even edited her magazine once. I can dig the email up if I need some type of solid evidence. I do the things I do, and still could never imagine putting together that electric fashion show of a life she calls her day to day.
I want every line to have a purpose, there are no strays here, only intent.
Che la mia ferita sia mortale – may all your wounds be mortal
Dirty Window Pane Poetry - An Experiment 