You. You are art.
Every line. Every shape. Every curve.
Brush strokes. Waves of acrylic. On canvasses.
Brushed lines of Graphite and Charcoal. On papyrus.
Soft. Full. Perspective.
Lush. Greens. Blues. Shades of Violet. In a darkened scope of color.
On a palette. Mixed. Concocted. Replenished.
Brought to life with drips of Cerulean Water.
The colors water would be if water was as it were in my wide lens.
You. You are all the shapes.
The hourglass. The pear. The rectangle. The apple. The diamond.
Molded. To create you.
I wrote a poetry! (‘a’ poetry? …i’m keeping it) yay! I haven’t done that for, like, a long time. I actually discovered my (choiceless) creativity with poetry. Writing poems n shit. About women (mostly) and winter…and William Shakespeare (actually, yes, exactly those.
(when I write these things it usually take me a couple weeks to finish them…because I don’t force myself to finish it enough.) BUT ALL OF THIS WILL CHANGE
as I have just signed up for a FUCKEN POETRY MARATHON MUTHERFUCKER…seriously, I’m hard as fuh.
No, but seriously seriously, that’s a thing that is happening. 24 poems in 24 hours. I mean, one time I finished a drinking challenge of 78 drinks in 2 months…how hard could it be? It will definitely be the most interesting 24 hours, I think.
But ti’s (typo but I’m keeping it) exciting. Actually taking time off to create A SHIT TON of art. Every day I try to work on something, a painting, my underwhelming guitar skills, or ugh, my stories (the latter of the three, I will admit, I’ve been lacking in and I can hear my stories crying in the darkness) but this will be different, I have actually decided to devote time to creating instead of adding it to my daily habits of waking up too late and drinking too much coffee
SPEAKING OF DARKNESS, (segways are weird), Halloween season is right now, you’re in it, better get used to it because myself and my people, the other dark and delicious people are ecstatic because we get to be spooky, like, spookier than normal…(what even is spookier than normal…what even is NORMAL) but, like I said, speaking of darkness I have a thing to say on the subject, I haven’t had a lot to say lately, but witness me, if you will. I wrote this to myself sometime previously whence fully authenticating the reality of the darkness within me. It’s here, it’s mine. I’m better for it. Indulge me.
Dark v. Light
Without the dark there cannot be light.” (It is known Khaleesi)
Without the good there cannot be evil. (It is also known)
But, as I’ve discovered recently, the Shadow is not always evil. There are awful things (A LOT, actually) disguise themselves in the Light. I, myself, find comfort in the darkness (it might be my blue eyes but that’s irrelevant).
This is not to say that I revel in doing bad things to people; I don’t want to hurt people physically (most times), I don’t want to manipulate people, I don’t want to damage them emotionally. I choose not to bring about the destruction of one’s existence simply because I fuckin’ get off on it. I don’t. It’s not my style.
If a guy is chasing a girl down an alley whom he has just beaten, I’m going to lower my shoulder and take him to the ground, smack him around a bit, scream in his face and laugh maniacally (albeit mildly) as I wrap my hands around his throat (only so he’ll STop FUCKing SQUIRMing). Knowing that I have all the power and nearly every justified right to kill him.
And i truly believe that these thoughts (and actions, that actually happened) stem from a dark place. A dark place that I live, by myself, amongst the degenerates and the renegades (all my beautiful horror geeks and monsters. The freaks and creeps where, yes, depression is rampant, and it creeps in every so often, as the crushing sentiments of artistic self-doubt usually do [a necessary addition to life for the cultivation of art]), This same dark wood where fear clouds the darkened sky holds no sway over me. I live in this place but I do not live in fear and I do not find pleasure in hurting people or myself in any way, shape or form.
Every so often, a friend of mine or an acquaintance or someone whom I don’t even know will venture down, down…and down into the serene darkness where I live and keep my solitude. It will frighten them. I can see it, mostly in their eyes and feel it in their questions. I know this fear. I walk hand-in-hand with it.
This terrifies them because they don’t know where they are and they don’t know how to get out.
Death, Despair, and Terror, will rear their ugly, putrid heads and unhinge their snakelike jaws exposing angler teeth, squirming in the deepest part of the undiscovered abyss.
The things that live in the dark will close in to do them harm. But, if by chance, they see my blue light, it’s not bright, but in the dark it looks like an ocean of comfort. If they do, when they do…whether by chance, some premonition, some miracle, or their God and own Holy Spirit have seen fit to guide them to me.
I’ll be there.
I’m always there, in the dark, ready to do violence on the things that would cause the terrified harm (that last bit’s from a quote, I can’t take too much credit). My wolf teeth will be barred and the dark things shy away from me. Because they know I am worse than them. The dark wolfish thing outlined in intense blue is not to be trifled with.
I will be prepared to lead them out of the dark, or be with them in the darkness when it turns to blackness. Because darkness, I find, is good. Pitch blackness is not. That’s when people can’t see and start to panic. They don’t know which was is up when they lose their footing.
I wrote that a couple months ago, I think when I was coming to terms with my darkness. The year has in and of itself been something of a coming-of-age for this guy.
I mean, now I wear my kilt to work. I’m becoming who I’ve always been but have never had the wherewithal to discover.
I’m just like this now and I kinda fuckin’ dig it.
(As a side-note, the rest of the title is a reference to my solo piece that I performed recently at Midsummer Scream for a dark theater production called Urban Death. In this scene, before the lights fade in all the audience hears is traffic sounds (horns, cars driving by and the like, and my whistle. When the lights come up, they are presented with an extremely naked white dude where nothing but a yacht captain hat and a chrome whistle. I then proceed to dance and “direct traffic” as goofily as possible to raucous, uncomfortable laughter)
((pps. I loved every second of it))