Sights

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I peered through the hole in the fabric

The scene encircled by the nearest seller’s striped

canvass flapping in the breeze

I watched her as she freely browsed

Completely unaware of me in my hiding spot

There’s nothing seemingly important to notice

Just a minute of awareness in a different story

I inhaled the market to retain its look

To remember the surroundings as much as her

The feelings in question leave one hesitant

When the pictures seem flat in the imagination

With their nonexistent examples of how “we” live

But what happens when the sights shift and rearrange;

to become the sole witness to the many forks of reality?

Like a kid watching TV with his face plastered against the screen

The moments pass and then the darkness dissolves…

Is that even possible?

 

I am grateful for 2015. I hope everyone has a safe and happy transition into the New Year. ❤

Fight-or-flight

If you ask me your questions

I’ll tell no wayward lies

You’ll see the truth

From the look in my eyes

I’ll peel back my layers

As if you were a god

I’ll die as the sad lover

In one of your songs

We know who’s right

When there is no wrong

Between fight or flight

Of actions or thoughts

Left with dreams to remember

During the days to forget

With desires surrendered

To a life worth living

 

I am grateful for this past year ❤

 

Not It

We can choose to read between the lines
Switching sides while exclaiming,
“Tag you’re it!”
I will not

We can claim each day
But only in an alternative order
To look forward
I will not

We can play pretend and hide the truth
Introducing oneself as someone else
Other than you
I will not

I am grateful for the everyday, straightforwardness of spending time with my friends ❤

Mirrored Image

Photograph by Daniel Rozin, Weave Mirror – 2007

 

There are two sides of every mirror pane

One view as the representation from suggestion

Another, to peer into the exposed depths within

Both options, merely an illusion of intentions

Embodying the reflection of wayward confusions

 

Vulnerable to eyes that stalk and mimic each movement

I see you there filled up with your proclaimed awareness

Hardened to the view of countless observations

Convincing yourself of truth without the understanding

 

Upon further inTROspection, the image appears unpleasant

Reality and fantasy are anyone’s guesses

Fate balancing on suggestions of fragmented egocentric treasons

If you seek solace in your depictions, maybe you don’t deserve it

 

The idea(l)s of a lifetime die with the accusation of Judas’ kiss

Memories getting lost in the details being portrayed from the cold glass

The view from where I’m standing is obscured and cracked

A momentary observation being the only proof that we exist

 

I am grateful for artifacts ❤

Crazy Thoughts

Is it not enough to weave letters into neatly

packaged shapes and phrases

Created to open up the introductions and to keeping face…

 

From the cipher to the idol:

Standing out at a distance trying to reflect what’s normal;

All of the noise, incoherent static, the nonsense of translating

one piece of substance into something more familiar

-As if the ant could ever stomp on the human to demand a sense of understanding-

Is it any wonder at why the peasant doesn’t lend out a hand to the King to offer union?

No,

the King hides his face within the pillows of his selfish ideals of slumber and musings

So as not to prophesize the most unrealistic endings to these questioning desires…

 

When believing is harder than breathing in and out…

There is no time for questions of clarity or whose turn it is to write a story.

 

I am grateful for “crazy” thoughts ❤

Who am I?

Busy days lead into eventful nights of

Bright moments in the dark that leave the brain

mindless and numb to the rationality of light

You’ve been wearing all black while tempting the colors within

to paint the first mark of the picture

With haphazard jagged brush strokes crisscrossing from

one side of the page to the other

A depiction of dreams and the feelings

one experiences while asleep

I dress you up in my careless thoughts to

wake up in the morning and wonder,

Who am I?

 

I am grateful for sleep ❤

Seeing Above the Clouds

Photo Credit: Painting “Ship in a Heavy Storm” by James E. Buttersworth

 

True blue waters churn into an inky black to mimic the clouds moving in overhead

All colors swallowed below in a web of columns of light as the current attempts to suck me in

The picture unfolds its secrets in shadows but my eyes can’t focus to see

Shrapnel of spray wets my face veiling the tears raining down my cheeks

 

I shove down the bile slowly making its way to the surface

My mouth opens wide exhaling soundless cries of heartache

I steady my feet squarely to prepare for the expected damage

Consumed by the fate of the gods (or whoever wants to claim this time)

 

I’ve been holding my breath forever within the walls of my mind

To avoid seeing the wreckage of each storm that passes by

The salty water replaces the blood crawling through my veins

Pouring myself into the sea and mixing within the immenseness

 

It’s always the same, this familiar tradition of destruction in the arts

We become lost ships scattered throughout the swirling stream of consciousness

Shoved into empty wine bottles discarded as misplaced fragments forgotten

As the sands of time fall exactly into place filling in the layers inside the grave of our hearts

 

I am grateful for art ❤