They say suicide is a sin
and I want to die pure.
I want the Heaven open for me,
the absolution of my sins,
(is it hating yourself a sin?).
I want the white robe in my coffin,
the children playing,
the adults crying.
Plant tulips around my grave.
I was pure once.
I’m pure now, but
Lord knows I’ve been corrupted,
(maybe that’s why I hate my body).
Cold down, go beneath the skin,
look at my heart, my lungs.
How they move.
Still a human.
Still a being.
(If I suicide
There would be an absolution?).
A simple explanation for the ones
who speak in complexities as if they
can know the universal rhyme of suns
in the cosmic poem of endless play,
never comprehending that in romance
of stars we are the offspring of stardust,
shaken loose at creation and perchance
becoming Earth and becoming nonplussed,
grasping then how small in the marvelous
plan of endless making and unmaking~
design and designer, the artfulness
of intelligence awakening.
The simplicity is this~
we know, we are, we become.
no separation
not explained
not explainable
can be obvious
dissolving absent
handholds
being
not being that
not being this
but expressing
that and this
finding
what is not lost
a seeker's shock
and demise
perhaps
searching
assumes something
to find with no
expectation that
something is
nothing
She wanted to know
Why I loved her so.
But I lose the flow
When I try to say
Why I feel that way.
I start to explain,
Then start once again.
Start functioning brain!
I’ll try one more time.
Quite desperate I’m
Resorting to rhyme.
I love your blue eyes,
As blue as the skies.
I love that you’re wise.
I would write some more
But she’s slammed the door
Poets are known to be temperamental
like all types of creative minds.
Always given to intense reasoned
- like those of different minds...
But in general they are good people,
no need to fear them...
They almost always don't bite...
I’m at a place in my life where explanation season is over. I’m not explaining nothing to convince, reassure, persuade or bring comfort to anyone’s doubt, uncertainties, insecurities or lack of trust.
If you asked me what I was doing and I said I was busy, then I said what I said. I’m not explaining what I was busy doing, how long I was busy or what I did after I wasn’t busy. If you’re not satisfied with my response, then that’s on you. You gon be alright.
People have been used to me explaining myself to reassure them. But you know what, that wasn’t on them, that was on me. Now, you get what you get how I give it. We still cool, we still friends, I still got mad love for you… but just know, explanation season is over.
You know how this young generation say, “say less?” Got it!
Enjoy your day.
As-it-is
Not a facing
Of reality
But a concept of
Mystery and beauty
Offering no explanation...
Appearing suddenly and with haste,
Holding nothing but a dagger,
She cut open my throat.
Like a jilted mistress, naked under the moon,
She carved runes under my tongue,
Tore my mouth apart
And bled things previously unheard.
Breath came,
In the form of a warrior woman with battle scars,
Skin ragged and withered
Feet firm upon the ground.
Encased in mud,
The iron on her skin whiffed foul and sweet,
Like truth.
She hummed.
Loudly,
She clicked her tongue at me
And in her vision,
Poured breath into my mouth.
I drank it in and shared it out.
It was much too soon upon your chest
So you heaved and moved away,
Filled only with the sound of death.
The art of creating a visual response to a piece of writing is known as a reverse ekphrasis ie the inverse of the centuries old poetic form of ekphrasis.
The most well known example being Charles Demuth 'Figure 5' based upon a W C Williams Poem.
EMAGI is a recent variation of a reverse ekphrasis derived by the advent of the widespread use of hand held digital communication devices -where words in digital symbols /letters can be represented as a shape
and uses a poet's poem to inspire the digitised 'drawing'
AN EXAMPLE
EMAGI reverse. ekphrasis VAN GOGH starry night
x x x
x x
x x x
x
x
x x
x
x
x
x
x
Wallace Stevens'ICE CREAM'
//
( )
---
\ /
\ /
\/
EXPLANATION
emergence
of the new
measured
identically
throughout
flowing
eloquent
consistently
maintained
popular&
immediately
influential
&
endowed
movement
pervasive
ambiguously
adaptive
in
fractual
disruption
emerging
to surface
in
antithesis
of
three dimensions
OPEN VERSE
using
spaces&breaks
without grammatical symbols
relies upon 'the one breath limitation'
this intuitive cadence
pemits the 'reader' (reciter)
to respond
in an interpretative - interplay
unique
to the ' happening
moment'
Objectification
Is told as the process
Of the mind in
Naming and describing
Whatever appears..
This whole story
Pops up in
Explanation of what
Cannot be explained..
Amazing that
No-explanation
Seeming to explain...
Pomeranians bark a lot.
This I know from the one I've got.
As to why this should be so
I must confess I do not know.
Throughput the years
I've listened to many tears
People's fears
All these words I'm fed
Sometimes they get stuck in my head
Cause me pain
My energy they start to drain
This pain then becomes my own
All these things I have been shown
At times. Makes me confused
Feeling used
Abused
Takes from my soul, the light
Doesn't matter how hard I fight
Have to get them out
I try not to shout
Or scream
Like waking from a bad dream
In their darkness I get lost
I pay the cost
No walk in the park
This living in the dark
No lark
The words I'm fed
Enter my head
I fight to be free
From all these words I see
Not sure that will ever be
I simply turn the ugly I see
Into something more Beautiful to behold
It leaves me not so cold
Only way I could find
To clean out my mind
Above the skies, below the seas,
a universe beyond what’s seen.
A caterpillar learns to fly,
two cells unite to form an “I”.
Uncountable seeds to clothe the earth,
feeding life, expecting birth.
My each day examination,
adjusting to His explanation:
Myself evolving to become
closer to the Master’s plumb.
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