He said; She will reveal the artist

‘Beautiful things,’ he said, ‘are the only things.’
‘You love the one to your soul he will sing.’
‘Stars in the sky; we stand in the gutter to see.’
‘A book is not good; just written well or poorly.’

These words pulse throughout my soul,
Like the music vibrates throughout my body,
I feel wordless and senseless;
How can I cure my soul by my senses,
If sensuousness seems to drip
like a broken faucet crashing down
one million times broken.

Once it was bacchus’s delight,
But I’ve seem to have lost this fight,
No more does sweet, delicious ambrosia
trickle past rosy lips to quench a thirsty quaff.

A heart breaks.
Does it make a sound?
A mind shatters,
Does it leave shards?

Voiceless.  Senseless.  Absurdity.

Just let the words be felt.
Let them flow like a stream ready to burst.
Burst from me.

Be free.
Fly.
Burst from me.

Away.
Closer.
Burst from me.

I feel the wind rage below.
Which witch?
Burst from me.

I am sticky.
I am fluid.
I am not sheen.
I am not a reflective surface.

I absorb.
I feel.
I AM.

Through pain, I have become.
Sartre says this is true.
As one is stabbed by the pen-knife, blood flows…
Creativity is alike.
As one is stabbed by the pen, ideas flow….

I am.
I feel.
I ABSORB.

I am sticky. I am not sheen.  I am complex.

I am lost.

I need to be found.
Only I can find myself.

I need to search.
I need to choose this adventure wisely.
I have been to Mordor.
I have been to the crux of it all.
I have destroyed the ring.
I have.

Now, it is time to will.
I will.
I am brave.

I am breathing.
I am breathing fire; power; stability.

I have words.
I can hear them rushing forth; ready to be purged.

He once said…the artist hides himself.
I will not hide herself.

This artist will not.

Stirred; Not Awakened

To hear me read it; click here -> http://picosong.com/e4sf

Ambulating at a pace to conquer the gazelle,
Running away, ne’er to wait for the bell to knell,
Somnambulating to escape the endless days,
Sun setting on an enrapturing consumptive malaise,

The earth pulses through my body; radiating calm,
Soothing a restless mind like a cooling balm,
Not asleep nor fully awake, I furtively slide away,
Catching one last glimpse of the sun’s falling rays,

Moon, your face holds lines of lust and lines of passion,
But when you frown at the sun your complexion ashens,
The ever rising and falling of your mind’s eye,
Reminds me of the clouds swimming in the sky,

Sunshine kisses a cloud, whose shadow shades the day,
Obscuring my mind, greying the things I want to say,
I used to hide, stepping carefully to avoid sullen decay,
Hastening to keep my meditations hidden in the bay,

My heart was cleaved ad infinitum as I wandered alone,
Darkness encroached as I boarded, paying Charon,
But a syncopated song called to me pulling me free,
Like a small dog tugs and wrenches, stubborn on its lead,

One day the cool air tugged my heart-strings open,
I climbed from the warmth of a musty sleep-filled den,
And I ran as far away as a day seems to a bored afternoon,
My wings grew and I flew, no longer cut no longer hewn,

Towards reds, purples, pinks, and blues all speaking in tongues,
I began to hum; vocalize; manifest; sing that which had sprung,
To wake me from sleepless beauty into a thirsting desire,
Consuming life like a dragon appetizingly slurps on a tall glass of fire.

~fin