A painting and poem I kept buried for a long time. They have little to do with one another, but here’s a place for them both anyway. Haven’t edited the last painting I finished yet and I haven’t wanted to start anything new.
Slow rhythm of pulse
Guaranteed, it’s giving up
The rose is angry; I’m plucking off its petals
Infected, with only a chill to lick the wounds
The blood and confession had a brutal affair
It was brilliant, now a convict to quotes of negativity
Everything is filtered through tender, sorrowful melodies
Torn silk, botched lace, just more fragments of hate
Where peace fell upon these thorns, one destined design
An effortless bond and full denial of faith
By stories of murdered dreams, little is all it takes
Decay and its fine bargain—she melts in the embrace
Veiled and blessed farewell
In recognized defeat
A new song I added to the music page. The guitar thing I mentioned weeks and weeks ago, finally recorded. Not doing too well personally. I can’t believe it’s almost June…My disappointment burns even deeper for some thing that has recently happened. I just don’t know how to move forward from it.
This is a digital edit of one of the orchid photos I took at the 2012 “Butterflies of the World” show–the same butterfly show I’ve shown up to 4 years straight now.
The poem below began from thoughts I’d lost myself in many months ago, touching on the warped way I view love and all the strings attached. I start to think perhaps I’m only tolerated by my family and those who know me. And the only way I can be loved would be in their memories or in some idea of who I could have been that they choose to believe. Never alive the way I am now or how they know me in person. I’m basically saying decide who that person is and hold onto it, while I find my way out.
I sang this poem to a piano arrangement I’ve had memorized for years, finally putting it to use. That is in the first music page and a version I did with voice only and no piano is here: https://www.box.com/s/74cc16bea779af95b120
Decide the Memory
Broken deepens from the surface.
With one more hit
In pieces the face will fall away.
Though burdened, whatever I can I
Pick up again and try
No matter how long I’ve been without time
And you love me enough to let me lie.
Just follow along – I should be fine…
Knowing just what goes on, but
You don’t see it in my eyes…
And don’t listen,
Yet if you are to hear the heavy sigh
You must love me enough to pass me by,
And don’t worry, it will never feel right,
But understand, where I rest
Has long been within sight.
Accept me and decide the memory
You can love enough
To let me die.
Both versions disappoint me in certain ways, but it was just an idea I had to try following through with. When it comes to creating things, if I don’t attempt to make real what I imagine , it’ll bother/worry me for some reason. Had to get it over with.
Brand new painting, but not one I’d planned. Not crazy about it at all, but I like that it’s very different from what I’ve done in the past with random/unplanned projects. The title is of a song that popped into mind and I thought it fit well for the last minute additions I made to this image. And the written bit below, it was completed near the end of summer last year. Some things were going on with my siblings at the time that I needed to vent about. Actually it spans years of frustration I’ve needed to deal with somehow regarding them, so I made an attempt.
The sun has risen with vital promise and strength
Resilient and hardly knowing what became of night
That hot, quick yellow sick of spit up realization
Its petulant boom, gusts, base crackle and sheer
Wits and rage whelm her fear
The mother screams “Why bring this here?”
His crawl back to the cave in shame
Disdain for self put on display – A full dismantling
We find our shallow creature of sea in
Crushing depths, drowned of its own grief
What a mind flips and rips into…
It cannot tolerate
His loosened skin – disgust – disgrace
Face after face peeled all over the place
Quite the disturbance, but we remember to breathe
His life is his burden to uplift
And though a hand we’ve held, we will not heave
Right now he just wants sympathy – feels buried beneath the heap
His blathering of its gravity and his staggering need
But I say you’re like a phoenix – just die a little more
Until reborn and wings are given their chance to mature, I above all
Have chosen to ignore
Our lesson in the shards of the last “final” un-fogged mirror
Still, there is something about now, about here
The stench of brother ingrate beginning to clear
A level enclosed, honest and steeped in hope, might we settle this air
All is thin and prime for the confession
Just like the squeak of a cheap old faucet
Its paint – a silver cheat, peels mutated in flakes
My same approach sharply bent at edge.
Like a scuff mark bothers to be the labor of your time
Or the clock – sometimes five minutes fast then two hours behind
Or gradual disasters where you never guess the change
As a river yet to crest, days from the last drops of rain
To see it fully you must wait.
I sit and play over the veins like worn old music strings
Rough for the dusty blends of scar
I tune them to my heart and with them, sing
Their stress will slice right through the best and leave me
Coughing up the rest of what I was.
This painting is over a year old, done using a photo as reference. I just loved the outfit and knew it would be a challenge for me to draw/paint. The lines below it- just another personal thing, confusing enough to hide behind…