you are not sure
between doing and not doing
but do not fear
no creative genius emerged
from blind confidence
it is the unsure artist
who tinkers and questions
that creates beauty
carries on insecurely
Art speaks words unheard,
The feelings paints pictures unseen.
It is beauty and drastic ideas combined
A mix of pleasure and pain
All experiences add a different taste
Rough edges and smoothness entwined.
Touch it and fall into a dream
The artist lived and lives within.
The voices of the dead serenade me
From across the vast expanse
They whisper soothing nothings.
They comfort me and gently reassure me of
Their voice, their ghost, their everlasting breath haunts
And remind me that I am only mortal;
Not often remembered.
Beyond the void of death frozen in song
Miss those I have never know.
Has so gently crooned verses of strength and love
As the beautiful voices of the dead.
Listening to old music
Art should be disturbing to the comfortable
A comfort to the disturbed
A shape of two being one
The creator casting one half
The eye of the beholder creates the other
Unified into a single shape with infinite dimensions
Shining like a diamond
The shape of as heart
Unshuttered and unfettered
A pouring of everything
Filling of empty spaces
The gap between the ribcages
The pain behind the faces
Unmasked, raw, refined, precise, agonizing
Hopeful and despairing
That is what art should be
Art is nothing more than that
An artist too lazy to make any art
So what am I?
The sleepy commitment holding your hand in public places
An enormous gratitude lounging in between spaces with a stain on her shirt
Always seeking to be the next big thing
Unable to process any other philosophy
that doesn't kiss me when I'm nervous
Lights turning on in the afternoon
And the warm glow of knowing people are inside
Ready to open up the door and invite you into the individual smells that occupy their reality
I am I-don't-remember-the-city-anymore girl
Sterile buildings and antiseptic coast
Are both memory and fiction
I am everything's-sort-of-familiar and yet exactly obscure
A contrarian careful to never admit that everything
Will make sense with enough persuasion
In the corners of my mind sits a woman
Smoothing out creases of my brain like the folds on bed sheets
Or the wrinkles in a shirt
And I allow her to because I love her
And I believe that what she does is affection
And maybe I'm right
Or maybe I'm wrong and I was never an artist
But something else entirely because that's so much easier
“Julie was truly something else.”
I said to myself as I watched her dying.
Oh how I miss her warmth against my chest,
Believe me, I do. I am not lying.
I had my reasons, you see.
‘Cos there’s always a trigger to my madness.
She said this really wasn’t meant to be,
And I couldn’t bear the thought of her with someone else.
Her splattered blood painted a perfect picture,
That only a killer’s eye could see.
Her canvas was the kitchen floor,
And the Artist was me.
Unrequited love hurts.
I forget how to write
Sitting in my skin
Festering spoiled meat
Falls off the bone
When I move my hands
To pick up a pen
Before I reach it
My fingers are dust
Along with my thoughts
Floating in the air
Body and mind
Decomposing in time
I forget how to draw
Like repelling magnets
Ink jumps from the page
And into my eyes
Blinded I fumble
Stumbling I mumble
Something about art
About how it’s saved me
****** and confused
It avoids and evades me
This is a poem I wrote on 8/7 that I came back to and titled tonight. Still feeling this way about my art.
Most people change, some don’t
Some swim or sink, while others float
I don’t think I’m him, For I am no joke
I need to plant the seeds to grow
For I bleed and reap what I soe
I get what I give, So I give my all,
Thee Mind, Body & Soul, Be all of me, from head to toe.
To Heal. To Learn. To Grow.
To Just Know!
There is always Power in Knowledge !
Fall in love with a poet; an artist
They'll capture your beauty when you can't
An artist isn't just a painter or sculptor. Art is music, words, photos, pottery, and so much more than what's limited to a colorful canvas.