Inside the
immolation
of my flaming mind
almost roasting
in its own juices,
thoughts trickling down
into physical matter
and into the
lush cusp of words,
words that twist and turn
and curl around my tongue
as they wind their way
into realms divine
and sacredly profane,
entwining the alchemy
of lost magic
with the fabric of stars--
Yes,
in this trance of absolute divinity
I stand within
my own sacred love temple
ready to take in
whatever comes
in highest form
ready to unfurl and release it
into the breathing spaces
tightly packed between
the tapestry of this existence
so closely interwoven
within the stellar,
cellular matter
of our beings
of earth
of constellation
of fire
of sea
Here,   I need to not only
cast my thoughts
into the vastness of air
not only paint the night sky
with sounds that emerge,
so guttural, from my
deepest knotted chords
but actually consummate
this force within
consume it and be consumed
bring it to light
with my own
sacrosanct
manifestation…
blast it forth
in shoals of white
conjure it from
the source, pristine
    fight the fight
for truth, for love
           and all that's
in
      between

Am I my art or is my art me?

My words and my paintings might have no relation
To my thoughts and my mind and my current location

Am I responding to existing temptations?
Or is this more then built up frustration?

My thoughts have too many translations
Am I really the creator of my destination?

I copy illustrations
Fueled by inspiration
Holding information
That all lack integration

I have countless hesitations
And I'm in need of confirmation
Someone please offer some consolation
Or maybe an explanation?

Until then I'll continue with so called imitations and miscreations
Until I fully know the situation

Or so help me God
Am I my art,
Or is my art
Me?

Sadly this woman with the biggest heart
Has to rip out her most loving thoughts
She must turn cold
For over her, people just rolled

She alway knew they would
But she still did what she could
She so desperately wanted to belive
That everyone that was truly in need
Would appreciate what she did
She had the faith of a little kid
She believed there was good in most everyone
But now with all of that, she was done

There finally was that last straw
Finally a line she had to draw
This decision was agonizingly painful
After this, she didn't know what she would live for, would she be able

The pain of this was greater then all that had came before
This killing of her own soul hurt so much more
Than what any human monster had inflicted
With this her heart would truly be restricted

She took the broken pieces of her being
Ground them to dust as tears down her checks kept steaming
She knew with this final self inflicted act
There would be no coming back

There would be no more love, no hope
If not for drugs, how would she cope

With one last sigh
One last cry
She pounded what made her, her to dust
She felt no other way out, it was a must
The chain that bound her to helping others just turned to rust
It broke and fell away
She wondered why on this earth would she now stay

For with all the good she had tried to spread into this wicked place
She sincerely thought it would be returned when difficulties she faced
Only to find
No other human would act as kind

Every single person she tured to
Only replied "what can I do"
"I would help, but I must put myself first"
Her loving heart made her feel so utterly cursed

So she decided that was it
No longer with the afflicted would she sit
No longer would she put others before herself
They could all fall off the ******* shelf

This decision was not freeing
It was gonna **** her completely, her fragile soul, her being
It was gonna break the ties that held her to this life
But when she need help, no one was there to end the strife

Now this woman with the biggest heart
Has to rip out her most loving thoughts
Now she is as cold and heartless as the rest
But look really hard, there is still the stain of tears upon her breast