Posted in Art, Musings, Poetry

My blog got me through

Watercoloring. 2021

Connecting with others here on WordPress saved me from utter destruction. And for that i am grateful. And in the process, i have returned to my first love. Creating is my lifeline and my grace to get me through to the other side.

Working Out my Angst. 2021

Growing up i was denied every aspect of self for the greater good. And as much as i love my family, to neglect myself was detrimental in the long run. I lost my brother to suicide. And i still have trouble understanding that relationship. We were very close growing up. Until we drifted apart. Friends until high school, when his sudden budding interest in girls, sparked a fissure.

I will never fully understand suicide. The thoughts of doing away with self, once gripped me too. For thirty some years i thought it through. Jumping from second-story windows, holding my breath under pillows, imaging myself driving the car off a bridge, and holding a knife to my neck while talking to my therapist. I had my ideas. Pills and razors, ropes hanging from rafters. They all presented peace of mind.

I have wandered through the ensuing fog. I have spent countless nights in tears. I sacrificed myself for the greater good all while dying a slow death.

I started practicing art in recent years. Whether photography, watercolor, acrylics, textiles, or garden seeds, i have found my inner sense of life. In my poetic words i have tried to let you see a bit more of what stirs inside. And even though i am unable to practice my first love, dance, i found a place to move internally.

So take your bow. 
See me stand before light.
You saved a life.
In disguise. 2021

Please do not use any of my photos without my permission. Thank you.

To John. 3/1/2008.
Posted in Poetry

Week in Review: B&W

Intimate 

silent nights
voided days
the human pulse fades away
lying still in slumber bed
daddy finds his boyish head
asleep on pillows fluffed at noon
now compressed by hallow dread.

running home
workday done
daddy falls on bended knee
to watch his son being fed
opiates, a final call
police and dealers, absent lovers too
all relinquish his human goo.

silent nights
voided days
daddy wanders crumbled earth
releases anger, bottled grief
showers only begotten
witness life is simply rotten.

Rest in peace Adam, 21, aspiring chef and accountant.

Posted in Poetry

wayfaring stranger

i came.
i went.
consider
the quivering soul…
it takes
strength to move forward
the memories pour in
the excitement wears off…
especially then

i saw.

Posted in Poetry

suttee

Afraid
to let you go
i twine the words
of complicated grief
there was no goodbye
never another hello

and then i made it worse
opened myself
wide
displayed before savage eyes
killed myself slowly
with little pride to show

flames shooting higher
than ever thought possible
i sold my soul to the devil
who paid a hefty price
to lick bitter tears shed for us
and consume his last meal.

Posted in Poetry

turn my back
yes, that is what i will do
can’t be the one
to care any more
the level of injury
grows day after day
and there is no possibility…

purposely left my heart -abandoned

i am hung up to dry
led to bleed out
you! learn to run away.

Cannot shake the feeling all hell is going to brake loose upon the world. As much as i want to believe in peace, the human heart has become twisted and fooled.

Posted in Poetry

I became trapped in my own selfish misery. I once held onto hope. Positioned as a shiny metal object, glistening in the sun, it promised better days. I prayed to it. Ran my fingers over the smooth surface. Worshiped the image broadcast back to my heart.

I learned that day about rust as tears flowed. Death approaches angrily, despite appearances. I wish i hadn’t fallen so hard. Knives are all too predictable. Perhaps there is the lesson. Learn all you can before you are trapped.

Posted in Musings, Photography, Poetry

obsession

curling iron forge
masked motives incinerate
reach new thoughts, higher

This was my evening, days ago. I burned every stick and autumn leaf along with left over wood from long-ago projects, saved for years in the garage, for those just-in-case chances we needed a piece of 2×4. Indiana is soon to be in my rear-view mirror. Friends will be left behind. I hope Boston treats me well.

Posted in Art, Musings, Poetry, quotes, Soul Journal, travel

My Monhegan

I am currently working on a painting My Monhegan, an island off the coast of Maine. Monhegan is a place that encompasses 95% of my spiritual thought while a mere 3 days and 2 nights were physically spent there. It amazes how much an impact the place had on me. A healing calm took me over and i only have to slip on those hiking shoes to feel the embrace around my soul.

At least the ones i have conquered.

In the meantime, while rushing from one idea to the next, for the past three days, i realized something important. I don’t hear the rattling noises in my mind. At least not as often as i use to and only when invited in. The loudness has abated with a new found courage. I have tamed the angry heart that broke and mended the fabric tears. The tears in my eyes have dried.

The scared child that cowered in the corner has found light. She has grown since last spoken to. The sex fiend has retreated and allowed a wholeness to take place. I convinced her sex is nothing compared to spiritual ecstasy. A spiritual relationship, with someone who can read my mind and play off my every mood, move and energy, is enticing. I have a few girlfriends like this. I have yet to make a pact with such a guy friend. I have a few in mind, but they don’t seem to understand the concept as i had envisioned they would. Such a collaboration is still open to anyone. Even long distance. I am open and my heart twirls in excitement to find such a guy. If such a person exists. 🤨

As if a light switch was flicked on and off, on and off, the hurt, which once overcame me, has now been overcome. The chaos inside has relented and been subdued.

I win! I won!
I run! I swim!
I fly away…