For your consideration,
I choose, as an artist to call myself a creationist for several reasons. First and foremost I am a painter, artist, actor, writer and vocalist. The gift of creativity was made manifest and encouraged in my daily life from childhood to present day. Secondly, I will never deny that I have a firm belief in God and that I believe, as William Blake did, that my imagination is evidence of some source of divinity. I believe that I come closest to that divinity during the act of creation. Through all forms of self expression that divinity shines. To many my use of imagery and language may not seem to be in harmony with that Divinity, I firmly disagree. I choose to not accept the limitations of language and imagery that are assigned by earthly misjudgment and trust solely in the limitations set forth by the Master of Creation. All too often Spirit is confused with Religion and the trueness and purity of God is lost in the misinterpretation of who and what God truly is and what He judges to be right and not right. To many others this concept and faith in that Divinity maybe unappealing. I encourage all people to come to Truth and Love.To both sides I simply say that I desire to express purely without preaching or teaching, only to strike that "transcendental cord", to represent Truth and Love in my work while achieving balance of darkness and doubt. Through my art and writing I simply want to "say" and for my saying to be heard and above all else, felt. I include these writings because they are written representations of what I create on paper and on canvas, they are philosophical ideas that flow from mind to body, from the concreteness of word to the absurdity and subjectivity of imagery - The Process of Creation. Please enjoy.
Ubiquitous Flight
The time has come to focus from the unfocused front of focus fucking me up. Too long have I dwelled in the darkest dark deepening in the doubt of dubious dealings. Talent tortures, it twists in a temptation that ticks as time tick tocks timelessly. I know The Know of nothing, I need the needless needs of naught, not now knowing new newness. I catch the cruel countenance of counting, cruel crutching of crumbling, judgment climbing cruelly. Too much power it possesses, pressing presumably, pining away, pruning pious possessiveness. Up in ubiquitous flight, fighting ferociously, fearing the failing fortune finding forbidding footfalls. Who I am is arbitrary, articulating anarchy absolutely, abiding aimlessly, aerating absurdity appropriately. A gleaming gloss of goo guides me guiltlessly, gladly, grossly going, grabbing and groping as I gaily gasp. Understanding undoes unnecessary ugliness, uniting in the uniformity of umbilically unifying umbra. Trust is tasking, tensely matriculating mournfully, motioning mindfully migrating mindlessness. Faith forces fraction in frustration, fabricating fables, facing façades of faceless facetiousness. Belief abides, biting blindly bitter bitters, begging in ballistic ballet, bearing balefire. Hope hurts, hurling hardship, healing horrid haunting halls, of hallelujahs halfheartedly. Rustic rivers roll with revelation revolting riotously, resting restlessly reviving ridiculous radicals.
Ticket Time
I am on this train, looking at lights Bright lights brilliantly blazing On the shore of my ludicrous life. The rails seem so surprisingly secure. The rails once felt firm flowing freely forward. The roaring rails mournfully moan madly marching. City bound blissfully I briefly journey joyously. Journey joining joylessly beyond beings Beating beats beautifully beckoning until rails rail. Pulsing pulsations cease in motion momentarily. Moments pass like vicious visionary visions Visionless visions of moments bound blissfully behind. Lateness grows later as I linger in the station. Locust to Long to longer lingering on. Standing still, still standing staring long. Growing grumpy while patience waxes thin Thinking thin thoughts, patient with impatience. Tapping toes thinking, lateness lingers on. Home huddles beyond hidden hills lost Lost in space and time, ticking with toes tapping. Distance gives comfort, careful cares comforted. Dignity, dreams and daring drag ticking time timelessly. Toes tickle tightly. Comfort looses the lost. Lateness lingers Time has ticked, the keeper of keys comes.Ticket time.
Reason's Rhyme
Reason rhymes with the mind of mankind, Mankind being of similar mind, unified in processes of thought, confusion and recession, clarity, charity, oppression and obsession. The resonation of desire's bow striking strings of the heart to desire's liking, the common entombment song of our destruction, redemption the pale refrain of our reconstruction, obscure and invisible against the bellowing cadenza, disappointment and self loathing the only decrescendo. Ubiquitous loss and aimlessness found singularly in thought. Guidance evolves from necessity, of teaching, worthy to be taught. Comprehension unachievable by all of creation incapable of doctrine for its own recreation. Examination, scrutiny, and judgment are ideas the beast does not know, they are not troubled by sin, sickness, doubts and woe. Beasts need not uplifted, encouraged neither forgiven, they lack deep comprehension of where they're going or why they are driven. Weather, wars, disease or desperation beasts function simply as they do, judgmental, worrisome minds of mankind could glean a thing or two. Marvel at man's mighty magnificence, at the reasoning That gives man his soul, his achievement and seasoning. Man moves all but heaven and subtracts to add earth and questions his legitimacy, potency and worth. There lies a testament to man and his intellect, for he questions his core, and makes it subject to restoration and reform. Change for change's sake, that often makes the ties of bodymind ache. Simplicity a welcomed and much appreciated curiosity. Duality a complex and precious commodity. A contradiction. Rationally there lies perhaps, no explanation of the rational mind or our preoccupation. Acknowledgement is the only recognition on which to rely For answering the questions of how, when and why Man's preoccupation perhaps lies with comprehending his own reason thus creating senses of anger, frustration, and treason, betraying his own ideal on truth and accepting so-called better, that facilitates his endurance, strength against all trials and all weather. Mind studies and studies into night hours long yet never uncovers all of life's singsong. Asking who we and why we're here seem really quite absurd, all can be answered by the seen, the felt and the heard. All things green and good begin an explanation of sorts, showing harmony, balance and beauty that exhort all of creation into reasoning what could possibly be right, providing inspiration to keep up the tumultuous fight. Right is wrong and what's wrong is right often enough, either way from either direction you're guaranteed some guff. Despite outward negativity you decide positives absolute, for you and only you, such sureness can only confute. Reason rhymes with the mind of mankind, though his heart often stops rational mind from playing is orchestrated part. Marvel at man and his mighty magnificence, though his arrogance soils creativity, flattening the pitch of articulate instruments. Confusion by taking and making the simple excessively complex without tolerance that men are wonderfully, respectfully biconvex. Man receives what he desires yet desires can be altered. Judgment and worry forgiven and forgotten in moments of falter, redemption being the pale refrain of our reconstruction, our only good fortune, abilities of reason, brotherly love and induction. It is said man receives what he desires and disregards the rest, dwells in fear, not giving deepest thoughts his test. Examination that only his truth and his soul know, bellowing refrains of knowing who we are and where to go. "I think therefore I am" seems good enough a start, sort of like, "Forgiveness begins in the heart." Trust philosophies given birth with a mother's love, by wiser minds, wiser ways, or mystical likes thereof. Question all word, action and vomited philosophy, little about, on paper with ink, hold steadfast constancy.
Simplicity is Best
Simplicity is best, I think, when creating poetry with pen, paper and ink. Creation tried and true to stand the test of time, like Mozart, Van Gogh, and political Shelly rhymes. All with grace and a certain air that make the point a bit easier to bear. Don't use words like egregious, apropos, and carpe diem your reader, most likely, won't understand the reason. Any sort of reader you'll cheerfully take, Make your message crystal clear, not overly opaque. Today's brain is a muscle in need of a decent workout and flex, take my word for it, simplicity is best. Remember you're tortured, misunderstood and morbidly depressed, Stay inside, write your worth, feel free to express the emotions that lie deep within your soul. Don't be afraid to be warm, truthful, and bold, pen philosophies to hold onto until you grow old. But by chance, if you should desire fame and reward then hit that universal, transcendental chord. Remember however to not use such a phrase, the words are too lengthy, they'll cause a mental haze. When you see the reader grin and bear while reading your rhymes, rest assured, you've wasted your time, on making your emotions open to the world, you've allowed your confidence and talent to feel the curl. Like a dried up leaf near the dawn of winter, you'll grow angry, resentful and bitterly bitter, that the world just doesn't know or honestly get you. You're really quite right. That's really quite true
Shit
There is this shit on my body, black, dank and weighty That holds my limbs in limbo, motionless, without motion. I think I know what this darkness is, I think I see I think I comprehend, I have a reason, I think to be. Defined by it, defined from my baggage, is it baggage, it's an obtrusive piece of luggage, black luggage in the airport post 9/11. An inconvenience. Customs are a bitch. Security, control, sniffing every crevice and orifice of every crease of my folded skin, metaphorically speaking in metaphor of course Just speaking of course, dictating dialogue. "Its just fucking conversation!" "Jesus tap dancing Christ!" "Relax…………..goddamn." "Don't…uh! Just don't" Calm and collected, yes, that's me. No, that's me, over there, covered. Icky in something kind of sticky, maybe sweet. No, its bitter, bloody, moldy, maybe meat. Ah, I see it clearly now, like the rain, when Its gone, I can see clearly now the rain is gone. Oh, cliché, and shameful usage of cliché and shameful 70's disco, 54 blow, well blew. The black, dank shit, it smells, it brings down. This laffy taffy, sticky tacky is bringing me down. Where I am, when I am, if I am, if I can I've got to snap out of this black abyss of, well, shit.
Meaningful Mood
My meaningful mood has moved into melancholy. though I am still content and increasingly jolly. Mind waxes always on the path of my life, which is muddled, complicated and full of strife. My brain bends boldly backwards before Brooklyn recalling sweet times before darkness and sin. I have grown into a man Ill be till my end has arrived My lifes story will be authentic, never contrived. The struggle searching soundly strengthens the soul we are always in movement, in search of the goal. My heart always yearns to see the Promised Land, to sing sweet songs and march with the angels band. Love lingers long relaying on the Lord, He is the rock, the shield and the Mighty Sword. I know with Him there is nothing I can not do I only wish I knew exactly what to choose. Reading re-enforces rational rendered rule yet my instinct and nature creates a chaotic duel. I know who am I am, this I can clearly see but am conflicted by what is theologically expected of me. Growing up gospel gleans Godly goods golden and also feelings of shame, repression and a debt duly beholden. I remember those lessons and my personal questions, answers were given for edification and digestion. Rejecting reflection reveals reveled rare reasons hoping that change will come around in adequate season. When I see me I do not see that change has occurred, ...
