artistic wandering
Poem 1
Life excites the question: who am I?
The quest displays
true meaning is in the process of discovery,
the journey that leads to our ultimate uncovering.
Embedded in our beings we hold
so much knowledge and curiosity
questioning the stories we’re told
and resting in self-honesty.
For the meaning of this effort
is so elusive,
it’s so inviting.
Breath slowly, soak it all in.
Find presence in this moment
it starts from within.
Poem 2
part of this process
are the depths of my internal treks,
the envelopment in such transience–
in quandaries of contemplation,
and rejections of cultural coordination.
I fight
a suspicious sense of calm.
A misconstrued certainty
in theatrical acts
shaped by bounds of normality–
never forget:
this place called home
is yours and yours alone
for this path of mine,
this journey I am able to define
is in my own control
when I remember
I am an old soul
ancient and wise
I settle in my being
and let go of my disguise.
Poem 3
who am I?
for what purpose am I here?
what do I feel when I say the word I?
what do I uncover when I turn inward?
am I aware of my own power?
who am I?
do I carry the capacity to define myself?
or am I merely a creature of societal creation?
Poem 4
There are times when I forget what it’s like to be me
when I can’t figure out how to enjoy life genuinely.
Like life at half mass,
half volume,
and speed.
Everything is distorted
I exist in a contorted
perception of reality
architected by the demons within me.
I drown in the layers I’ve suppressed,
and the discomfort of my thoughts
that’ve shackled my senses,
and chained me to the floor.
Yet there are glimpses of light,
fleeting moments of bliss,
in which I strive solely not to question their foreignness.
The tension becomes inhibiting,
all consuming,
gut-wrenchingly extreme.
As if an unmovable weight
found its home on my chest—
boxing in my breathing
and with it,
my joy for this quest.
Poem 5
I press my head firmly against the exposed wood
as I bring my pencil to the paper.
The feeling of bugs crawling across the surface of my body
is met with the simultaneous sensation
that the skin I reside within is not mine at all.
A bounded being—
to which I’m confined despite my best efforts of fleeing—
I’m restricted to this body.
Weighted down by its presence,
physically crumpling under the intensity of its existence.
I sit in the hollowness,
the emptiness,
the aimlessness.
A heaviness in my chest
A pressure on my mind.
I’m alone in my internal self-deprecating intention,
drawn to the depths of my own depression.
Poem 6
within this interlace,
this meeting place
of mystery and madness,
I awe at such complexity
the rawness of my own mental ambiguity.
through stretches of pain
of stifled power
and forced pause,
I obtain a glimpse of life’s depth
of it’s breadth
and authentic cause.
It is within this volatility,
the measured distance from intensity
to a freedom from the inhibitions of internal gravity,
that beauty unfolds–
art is composed
and the intricacy
that once bound me
confound me,
and overpowered me,
is now within my control.
Poem 7
I often picture my body as a collection of moments–
a constellation.
Appearing in my mind’s eye as a grouping of stars
a sum of various parts.
our composition
is a life journey of our own artistic creation
for we’re not here to discover all the answers
in a space structured by societal strings
we’re here to be dancers
to misbehave with beauty along our way,
to seek joy in each and every day.
we find home in the movement,
the freedom,
the wandering.
swept into the art of being
we appreciate all that exists
for life is art,
and we are all the artists.
Frame of Mind
Mind over Matter
Mind over matter
Does it matter to any of us?
Don’t change the subject
I’m heavy on your love
I missed that train
New York City, it rains
Fly to East L.A. in big jet planes
You know you’re on my mind?
And if the world don’t break
I’ll be shaking it
‘Cause I’m a young man after all
And when the seasons change
Will you stand by me?
‘Cause I’m a young man built to fall
Mind over matter
I’m in tatters thinking ’bout her
Taste my disaster
It’s heavy on my tongue
All the lights aglow
Tokyo snows
Go to watch the show
Curtain’s closed
I’m watching you this time
And if the world don’t break
I’ll be shaking it
‘Cause I’m a young man after all
And when the seasons change
Will you stand by me?
‘Cause I’m a young man built to fall
(I missed that train)
New York City, it rains
(Fly to East L.A.)
In big jet planes
You know you’re on my mind?
(All the lights aglow)
Tokyo snows
(Go to watch the show)
Curtain’s closed
I’m watching you this time
Mind over matter
Mind over matter
You know you’re on my mind?
And if the world don’t break
I’ll be shaking it
‘Cause I’m a young man after all
And when the seasons change
Will you stand by me
(Fly to East L.A.)
‘Cause I’m a young man built to fall
And if the world don’t break
(Tokyo snows)
Go to watch the show;
Curtain’s closed
And when the seasons change
Will you stand by me?
‘Cause I’m a young man built to fall
Crazy
Does that make me crazy?
Does that make me crazy?
Does that make me crazy?
Possibly
And I hope that you are having
the time of your life
But think twice,
that’s my only advice
Come on now,
who do you, who do you, who do you
Who do you think you are
Ha ha ha, bless your soul
You really think you’re in control
Well
I think you’re crazy
I think you’re crazy
I think you’re crazy
Just like me
My heroes had the heart
to lose their lives out on the limb
And all I remember
is thinking I want to be like them
Ever since I was little
Ever since I was little it looked like fun
And it’s no coincidence I’ve come
And I can die when I’m done
But maybe I’m crazy
Maybe you’re crazy
Maybe we’re crazy
Probably
humming