This Is Art…
This Is Art
It’s so clear to me when it’s real.
There’s nothing left before I was
and all I can is begin.
When it’s drawing me in…
The drink of blaring sunlight revealing.
The disruptions of heat and smoke activating.
The drawn out silent tundras unsettlingly.
My reflection re-acquaints me.
Everything is a tongue all at once.
It’s pulling my palettes from beneath me.
The muse reveals itself again
in another exotic sensation.
Orange
Nothing is for certain when everything
primitively divine is an improvisation.
What intrusive self should I sacrifice
for all the art in me to be conscious.
I write my poetry in cursive so it
draws every syllable on its axis.
To spontaneously ascend.
Searing into me, steeping in
the grace that brings me to my
knees when I no longer deny
and it all rivers out of me
in a cathartic confessional.
My spine rivets and
heats the sacrum within.
Above heavens are orange
when I assume creatrix. Ascend.
As Such Is Life
The one with the heart
frees himself to feel
and be witnessed.
As such a bard does…
he’ll sacrifice his distinctions
allowing characters to surrender
their unfelt humanhood through him.
Surfacing wraiths and denied desires.
Hearing the muse kindle his body.
He’ll dance like it’s the
most natural way to be.
If felicity is an unbecoming and
becoming loop, the bard
will lead you in and through.
And if you’ve never felt this
finally you’ll trace your skin
with the song of the bard
interlacing every universe
you exist.
Life is not one thing you know,
but everything you haven’t felt yet.
The waters are deep
and thirst is vital.
As such is life.
Let the tide in.
Untethered
If I want this radical life
What would I play for?'
Let this record roll in the backdrop
Un-denying my un-realizations.
All the strength hidden
wanting to exercise.
All the torment suffered
needs a chord to tremor.
Coiled rivers to release.
Untethered when I feel this
soft light reveal me.
If I live open-hearted I can
be so emotionally a flavor.
No Heroes
If I liberate my pain through pleasure
my soul can snarl out of my skin,
make an offering for a God within.
If I can worship in breaking
or breaking open, then this
cosmic illusion is one.
If I cease myself to see what reflects,
then something more can exist.
Is all the beauty in wandering a dim-lit road
…where nothing is certain and possibilities
of tragedy, comedy and whimsy co-exist.
The Anima
The world alit with fire.
Inside a dark horizon
everything became.
Everything that I am began
to fabricate with loosening water.
Beneath dark roots my veins
break for breathing skies.
Don’t know where I came from.
Everything’s unwritten in me
so I can feel it in my marrow.
Truth summons the
heart of my beloved.
The anima.
Feral for the woods and
delicate in the moonlight.
Save me and heal me
Open hands for me
I’ve never known.
What is music and why
does it transcend me?
I don’t think I’ve ever
felt this beautiful before.
I’ve bled a death absorbing me
into every gospel pores can kiss.
The Unveiling
Death is a veil I borrow to know myself as the unconscious,
to know me as soil does in a trillion suns and how the sea holds the moon,
where talons carry the blood that feeds our land.
I live in two hearts, one as innocence and one as myth.
When you are throughly human and truly an alchemist.
