I've been gone for a while...
I haven't written on here in so long, mostly because I get all my thoughts out in my sketchbook. Now I understand the people who carry their's around everywhere, because I know that I can't live without mine right now. I've also started writing poetry, mostly because I was extremely inspired by my friend Jim Gundry. He's an amazing poet, and I know I'm going to get shit for saying this, but I'm serious... he really is the next allen ginsberg or jack kerouac. He showed me his two poem books and I never have felt so close to someone, or understood anyone better than I understood him after reading his work. Reading someones poetry who isnt generations older than me or dead was a really enlightening experience. I set out to write some real poetry, not just some bullshit that I thought might sound swell. I'm not afraid of myself anymore. I've been learning things about me that I don't think I could have handled a few years ago. I never thought I'd know myself, and I still don't know myself, but at least I'm not ashamed of who I am anymore. I used to be afraid of being alone by myself. I used to be afraid of my own thoughts and feelings. Now I'm embracing them and I can't get enough. I've started creating art, in the last year, that really means something to me. Shit I made at Homestead was really just to get the grade. Fuck whatever his name was, he's a horrible art teacher. I am so lucky to have Pat, Cathy, Mark, Mary, Talia and Craig to guide me along. They never tell me what to do. They don't give assignments, they give ideas and generally inspire everyone to create work for themselves. I love hearing that I need to stop worrying about the grade, that I need to make the art for myself. I keep replaying their advice over and over in my head. I guess I'll put some poetry on here...
1.
Fabricated and loosely assembled
He handed me his conscience on a sprinkled platter
And without a word of discontentment
He turned to me and screamed in a whisper
All the feelings possible to conceptualize
In a half a minute
He knew I was crying but you couldn’t see it
Because my eyes were as dry as his
And I don’t think he ever wept
Because ever time, he told me
Sorrow is for the weak of heart
I turned to him and cut through his dirty hair
All the way through his metal skull
To imprint the word "forever"
On his frontal lobe
He did not look up at me
But I felt his eyelashes flutter
When I whimpered, "You know this can all change
If you’d just help me float off the edge."
He never agreed to my pleas
Except for this time
And as I took the leap
I felt my insides fly to the north
And I knew this was the only way there.
2.
Monday July 16, 2007
Dissipated, forlorn, renounced and discarded
I finally know that I am too young,
Too naive and all too frail
To ever let myself completely conclude
That I am wise, callused or impenetrable
Objective, detached or acute
Interior emotions creep up from behind
Threatening to bludgeon me over the head
With solids from my own brick wall
And suddenly I realize
That I am weak, emotional, delicate and breakable
Soft, tender, impulsive and natural
The stable wall I fooled myself into believing
Was not secure, solid or tough
But instead, was a dream
Fueled from hazy reassurance
Of marijuana, Xanax, Lunesta and love.
Built up every time I am foolishly hurt
Of which there are many
The wall is crushed, crumbled and destroyed
With my own inexperience hands
Because I unwisely believe that I am safe
Safe is not a truthful word, for safe allows one to believe that they are invincible
When I think I’ve learned
Beaten the game
Ran ahead of the pack
Or know all too well than to let myself
Make the same mistake multiple times,
That, that is when the devious soul
Hurls a brick at my face
And its always from my own wall
But we are no machines.
We have no perfect microchips,
None which would make success the only option
We are flesh, blood, emotions
& these things fail us often.
And once, foolishly but expected
I allowed someone to break it down
Piece by piece, but quickly
And when I was hit in the face, expectedly
I told him,
"Fuck you for fucking me over, but at least I’ll be able to write something good from this.
You know my number so if you want to call me go ahead,
But I won’t be making any effort."
Yesterday night I went a little nuts... I don't really want to explain anything.
I have to go clean my horse's stalls...
1.
Fabricated and loosely assembled
He handed me his conscience on a sprinkled platter
And without a word of discontentment
He turned to me and screamed in a whisper
All the feelings possible to conceptualize
In a half a minute
He knew I was crying but you couldn’t see it
Because my eyes were as dry as his
And I don’t think he ever wept
Because ever time, he told me
Sorrow is for the weak of heart
I turned to him and cut through his dirty hair
All the way through his metal skull
To imprint the word "forever"
On his frontal lobe
He did not look up at me
But I felt his eyelashes flutter
When I whimpered, "You know this can all change
If you’d just help me float off the edge."
He never agreed to my pleas
Except for this time
And as I took the leap
I felt my insides fly to the north
And I knew this was the only way there.
2.
Monday July 16, 2007
Dissipated, forlorn, renounced and discarded
I finally know that I am too young,
Too naive and all too frail
To ever let myself completely conclude
That I am wise, callused or impenetrable
Objective, detached or acute
Interior emotions creep up from behind
Threatening to bludgeon me over the head
With solids from my own brick wall
And suddenly I realize
That I am weak, emotional, delicate and breakable
Soft, tender, impulsive and natural
The stable wall I fooled myself into believing
Was not secure, solid or tough
But instead, was a dream
Fueled from hazy reassurance
Of marijuana, Xanax, Lunesta and love.
Built up every time I am foolishly hurt
Of which there are many
The wall is crushed, crumbled and destroyed
With my own inexperience hands
Because I unwisely believe that I am safe
Safe is not a truthful word, for safe allows one to believe that they are invincible
When I think I’ve learned
Beaten the game
Ran ahead of the pack
Or know all too well than to let myself
Make the same mistake multiple times,
That, that is when the devious soul
Hurls a brick at my face
And its always from my own wall
But we are no machines.
We have no perfect microchips,
None which would make success the only option
We are flesh, blood, emotions
& these things fail us often.
And once, foolishly but expected
I allowed someone to break it down
Piece by piece, but quickly
And when I was hit in the face, expectedly
I told him,
"Fuck you for fucking me over, but at least I’ll be able to write something good from this.
You know my number so if you want to call me go ahead,
But I won’t be making any effort."
Yesterday night I went a little nuts... I don't really want to explain anything.
I have to go clean my horse's stalls...