ARTISTRY ECSTASY
I need art to do -- even to see!
It's God's language revitalizing me.
I savor each vain urge, every sweet tiny ache,
my mundane existence (in a heartbeat) to forsake.
To wander beyond the languid Beauty mist,
all essential and treacherous shadow roads to risk
in finding the sacred forest of serious, artistic people
where the moon shines purple
and a winter air whispers poetry;
where understanding comes summer easy
and important thoughts flung through a dream hang heavenly;
where Truth Eclectic jazz-bedazzles nightly
in a star-jeweled risque gown;
where in artless delirium
I deliciously drown.
It's God's language revitalizing me.
I savor each vain urge, every sweet tiny ache,
my mundane existence (in a heartbeat) to forsake.
To wander beyond the languid Beauty mist,
all essential and treacherous shadow roads to risk
in finding the sacred forest of serious, artistic people
where the moon shines purple
and a winter air whispers poetry;
where understanding comes summer easy
and important thoughts flung through a dream hang heavenly;
where Truth Eclectic jazz-bedazzles nightly
in a star-jeweled risque gown;
where in artless delirium
I deliciously drown.
CHANGE
Change isn't easy.
Change makes me queasy.
It takes tremendous gall
to break though the wall
(installed by God, I guess).
Oh, what a mess
I make on one side trying
with frustration dying.
Not quite empowered.
Feeling the coward.
Discovering an intellectual grip
isn't worth shit
without a rallied will sustainable,
convictims firm and unrestrainable.
Change makes me queasy.
It takes tremendous gall
to break though the wall
(installed by God, I guess).
Oh, what a mess
I make on one side trying
with frustration dying.
Not quite empowered.
Feeling the coward.
Discovering an intellectual grip
isn't worth shit
without a rallied will sustainable,
convictims firm and unrestrainable.
Most people die
their glory inside
half-knowing what's required
feeling so bloody tired
like a gerbil on a wheel.
C'mon God, the deal?
I, as child, learned the pain
to distrust life's game.
Derailed by family stress
(at one point clinically depressed)
I surrenderd my hoping
for bottom-line coping.
While some caught the tide
I'd tread instead of ride.
their glory inside
half-knowing what's required
feeling so bloody tired
like a gerbil on a wheel.
C'mon God, the deal?
I, as child, learned the pain
to distrust life's game.
Derailed by family stress
(at one point clinically depressed)
I surrenderd my hoping
for bottom-line coping.
While some caught the tide
I'd tread instead of ride.
Getting older
change seems slower
while adolescent wars still rage
in a middle-aged body cage.
Wanting a prime that's higher
but serious courage required
Oh, for the energy of my frenzied twenties
without confusion as my enemy.
I have serious wisdom gleaned
untangling the thread of the family skein
A buoyancy of spirit I aim to harvest
and a satisfying niche to carve it.
From indenture status to life's favored guest
if I can ever recognize the positive in stress.
change seems slower
while adolescent wars still rage
in a middle-aged body cage.
Wanting a prime that's higher
but serious courage required
Oh, for the energy of my frenzied twenties
without confusion as my enemy.
I have serious wisdom gleaned
untangling the thread of the family skein
A buoyancy of spirit I aim to harvest
and a satisfying niche to carve it.
From indenture status to life's favored guest
if I can ever recognize the positive in stress.
HOME
is where the heart is,
is where I fall apart, is
a place
that suffocates,
clips my wings
with frustration and love,
is where I cannot be
the me
I am
at this point in life,
have got to be nice
to a role that is token,
the rules never spoken
but we all know
I never got permission
to grow.
I am still complying
by imperfectly lying,
allowing the ghost in me
to embrace lethargy
for the sake of the shell
where my poor parents dwell.
is where the heart is,
is where I fall apart, is
a place
that suffocates,
clips my wings
with frustration and love,
is where I cannot be
the me
I am
at this point in life,
have got to be nice
to a role that is token,
the rules never spoken
but we all know
I never got permission
to grow.
I am still complying
by imperfectly lying,
allowing the ghost in me
to embrace lethargy
for the sake of the shell
where my poor parents dwell.
Hi libby, I haven't much time these days so I'm leaving a skinny comment here which doesn't reflect the merit or depth of commentary the poems here deserve.
probing, revelatory... an open window, open to let more light on what you're examining, and to let the outside world peer in too
home stood out for me.
probing, revelatory... an open window, open to let more light on what you're examining, and to let the outside world peer in too
home stood out for me.
Inverted, raters and readers -- I thank you! :) libby
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