Monthly Archives: April 2012

How sharp the knife-

This is the drawing of a painting I’ve posted here already, over a year ago. The drawing is stripped down and imperfect–the same way I’ve been feeling lately. The poem is newer, written about someone I know and can identify myself with.

To Redefine

Attention was handed over
You don’t expect it back
Your own affection limps behind
The life you could have had

Background’s far forgotten wall
Granted, stuck, strong and tall
You answer toward every heard call
Protecting all, never to fall

A delicate breath, your
Unusual, gentle selfishness
Though everyone else robs you of your best
You gratefully settle for less

With a faint belief your time will come
If you lived you will live once again
The fortunes of yours they’ve taken away
Will benefit you most in the end

You are what you have had to be
Who are you otherwise?
You’ve never fought to claim your life,
Expressed your thoughts or severed ties

Open your eyes! What do you want?
And on its own is it enough reason to try?
An ambitious weight rests dormant in you mind
What will it take to reawaken?

How sharp the knife to redefine…



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“Save my life, change my mind.”


The sun cracks open
And though a bit awkward in how we greet,
There is always beauty in your movement
A rare show of naturalness

So near to what we cannot
Accept within ourselves.

Quite horrified by what our time will tell…
Those weathered cracks of an ever weakening shell…
Spooked as if we’ve stupidly forgotten all is to die

Saved by that pitiful piece of our dim mind
We feel the need to tap into every single time…

So take it all. You’ve reach the good,
Now be quick to understand, then
Blind the outside – hide your “wiser” way from all the rest

And for the remaining days
The truth won’t be whispered, but screamed
And for this very reason, by us
Never believed.



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A break for the moment.

These are some photos I took at a butterfly show, last year and the year before. I have tons that I’ve yet to share with anybody and this is the start I guess. I’m discouraged with my art lately and have another disappointment completely unrelated that’s weighing on my mind, so the color here is softening the edge a little. Life always seems to have me beaten. I think I’m too weak for this…just all of it.



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Another Misplaced Scream

The sketch above is from a few months ago, just an idea. The writing below came together from collected hours of daydreaming–trying to tie together every place my mind led to. I love the surprises that can come about through writing like that; some of the strangest images and combinations. It helps me along with new drawing ideas too, if nothing else results.

To the Surface

Yellow, at its high intolerant volume
Who needs another misplaced scream?

When black is every way
From the core to which we trace
Stretching of itself the chill scent,
A touch of fear textures this darkness
Allowing you and I to realize right to the limits we do

Most souls are still so cleanly watered down
Weightless within for the halos they spin bright
Of wonderment – still buzzing,
Never are they not in flight.

And if existence feels at all
Time ripples its ache, pinching the nerve.
And suppose for once we are not real
Or what we have risen from knows nothing yet of us.
The itch never to surface in mind…
Desires not in need enough to satisfy…

Well, here is impossible if anything is so –
When light and shadow embrace
By correct heat, an overall sound state –
A familiar beat erupts and wings pop up at the crease
It is just like a stranger’s welcome wave in great surprise
Even though I’ve seen them here and there
And we’ve met several times
The snap spirits in between space and creation
Enjoying the occasion

As the cold and deepest dim collect them wise and old.
Finally, returning them home.


Today I over did it with the exercising again. Going too far ensures that I’ll be too tired to feel much of anything else. Just another escape from the usual disappointments and the shame I’ve yet to resolve. No way out is going to be given to me and I’m stuck having to figure it out. When none of my solutions ever leave me unharmed.


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The Spirit Descends

This painting was slow in finishing. I took forever to draw it since I was trying to show a certain kind of movement I’ve never tried before. The idea is completely based off the two poems below which I wrote almost a year ago, but decided to save until I had an image appropriate for them. Back in December I mentioned a set of lines written through different voices where I tried to express parts of my personality/character that I sought to understand better.

The first one here represents a more authoritative and controlling side- a state where I feel overtaken and forced upon to do or be whatever the time calls for, something that gives strength somehow when otherwise there is nothing.

Possessive Descent

Like goddess or queen
My enrapturing guises sometimes in
The peach sweet scent of innocence
A motherly kiss
Your solid roots and coddled bliss

Only when you deserve it, and in this age
You are worth more toward my punishments
I slit through your supple skins of humanness
With contempt
No leniency for fostering weakness

The botched dive of nestling’s unsharpened wings in flight
She was bitten by the sky and not so for another try
Fearlessness siphoned off in mind…tremulous volition
A hindered grand trine
That sense of faith would fail you for the last time

I had compassion when I thought you could learn
When your limits and awareness were young –
I had more love in my, then sporadic, descents from above
But now I churn with more heat than all worshipped suns
A bold limb’s burning grip rattling to bits in opposition

It will never be your turn.


This second one is from another side- a weaker point of view in contrast to the one above. I meant it to be from the perspective of the one actually being possessed/taken over and allowing it to happen without a fight.     

Of Reverence

The spirit descends
A dark, thick and billowy eminence
She turns my blood in sonorous possession
I ripen in the smolder of her soul

Whisperings of every creep and crevice gather round
We bow to the weight of voice
Recreated – nourished – then once again destroyed
Our return home and
Void identities of own

For the moment we are left alone
We fail in feebleness to sustain our hold of flame
Our share of fervency
In mid-kindle, we are bound

A maternal, compassionate replenisher of life
While at an instance she could will us all to die
Yet for now we are in grace, guided by her light
In awe as she wields and redirects the sun

Order and form brought forth, veins to voice in rhythm
All path ways are purged and cleansed
Toward the greater consciousness
Her will: to sear and carve, meaning to be all we know

Until her lessons become ingrained and we
Are consumed whole


Probably this entire post makes no sense, but I wouldn’t expect something so personal to do that. Working on these poems sorted out thoughts I didn’t consider were even possible to sort, so just having completed them made a difference for me. I was hurting myself in some extreme ways at the time and while I didn’t see it clearly then, I do now very well.




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