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Dead or Improved

22/11/2018

Not into psychobabble
Quick new age cures
Life, by nature, is flawed, unstable
Replete with random potholes and
Sudden detours

Mistakes made over and over
Forgive yourself!
It’s human nature
Heightened states of threat
Prolonged exposure to distress

You know how it gets

Somehow, we survive
Adjust, reconcile
Do as we must
Metamorphosis takes a while

Ever evolving self
Often undetected or downplayed
Like a glacier
Or a slow cook roast
Over time we get philosophically remade

Restructured
Revamped
Upgrade

Dead or improved
One or the other
Get bruised, lose a tooth
Learn to suffer

There is always a lag
You’re never rid of those bags
The first few decades will fuck you up
Then a couple more to recover

Ever evolving self
The process is slow
Transformation ephemeral
Progressively we grow
But change is not always pleasureful

All faults excused
Face it - we’re fallible
Dead or improved
The hard lessons are the most valuable

Dead or improved
Don’t worry
You’ll get there in the end
One way or the other

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ambitious abandon

12/7/2015

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Success.
Do you really have to go out and get it?
Really?
Aren't there enough people already out there, trying to grab a hold of their self conceived, righteously perceived bounty?
Too many.

What if you don't like crowds? Bustling, hustling, rustling feathers?
Business lunches, scheduled get-togethers?
What if you're adverse to taking calls, meet and greets?
And you never bother to update post or send out tweets?
What if you're the kind of person who prefers to read... books!?
Prefers to eat alone, think in peace, avoids the crowds, do as he pleases?
An outsider, an observer, a dreamer, a foot soldier... gone AWOL, never to be found?
One of those spectres, the ones you don't see round.

What if he is all that but still would like to taste...
Victory for a change.
Could that not be arranged?
Why, his dues are paid - well in advance.
Sure, when he was younger, you say, he had ample chances.
Did he waste it? His youth?
Did he squander it?
Tell the truth.

He didn't. He has never stopped trying.
He has invested his soul and his time in creating his works.
He has devoted his being to seeing what works.
He experiments, pushes boundries, believes in what he is doing.
Don't you see that? He's devoted, he's focused, still searching for true meaning.
The man is a poet, he's a painter, a romantic, for chrissake!
Give him some hope now, come on! - give him a break.

He's one of the good ones, he cares, he's authentic.
He's not going to beg, though, or compromise his beliefs.
Maybe that's the problem. Too principled, idealistic.

He still reads comics, you know.
And he talks to himself.
Sometimes, he cries. Shhhh...
If this was a dating site, these admissions may help.
But he refuses to seek romance that way.
Yeah, yeah, an idealist. A dreamer, a romantic. Ho hum.
What is this shit, anyway? This whole thing?
Some kind of bla bla bla? For who's sake?
For god's sake, wake up, lad! (In an Irish accent.) (With or without face slap SFX.)

He's decide to free write. To let it out. To not stop. To not edit.
Not a good idea, some would say.
But he doesn't listen.
You should have worked that out by now.
But he does listen. Especially to things worth hearing.
Like birds. And the sea crashing to shore.
And melifluous voices, especially if accompanied by an alluring face.
He's going mushy!
The whole exercise is going to shit!
But does he care?
Not about images. Except the ones he makes. And looks at. Artworks and the like. Art galleries, book stores.
This has become a dating site! OMG.

James Salter died this week. James Salter - he was a real writer. His words - oh, wow. Profound. Moving. Ethereal.
He wouldn't be into this. Or maybe he would. Now, anyway. Now he's dead. Standards drop, apparently.

Riffing. Like rap or hip hop. What's the difference again?
Like one of those, anyway, without the backing track.
Or the anger. Indignation.
The dude is mellow.
Maybe too mellow.

Which brings us back to the original assertion.
How hard to try? And what for?
Maybe better to just be yourself and let things happen as they will.
Maybe better just to go with the flow.
Sometimes just a trickle.
Or a droplet.
Still, moisture.
Stay moist!
Ahem.

No drugs used in the transcribing of this inner monologue gone wrong. This escapee, barfing, ramshackle concoction of stream of conscious piss taking soliloquy.
None needed no more.
Man has evolved. Into maniac.

But that's it, isn't it.
There is freedom being expressed here. Freedom being enjoyed. Fun being had. Play.
Do I care about being acknowledged, rewarded for my efforts with my writing and my art?
Or do I just want to have fun?
Both.
But if there can only be one?
Fun! Fun! Fun!

Let's leave it at that.
It's 4am.
Almost bedtime.
For kids at heart.
Almost dreamtime.
Mmmmm....! (Homer voice.)
Dreaming!
Let's have some of that.
Yes, please.

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Retreat

24/5/2015

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I saw that word today and for some reason it struck a chord and I began to ponder on it.

I have never been on a retreat. I still may, if the opportunity were to arise and feel right, but who knows. I am not partial to schedules - especially those that involve early mornings. I also don't like being expected to participate in things that I don't wish to. I was a stubborn child and strongly resented having to go to school and all it's brutish, senseless demands.

And yet, one day, I may get over it.

Or maybe never.

This is not what I was thinking, though. What I was thinking was about how to go on a retreat is considered a positive, nurturing, possibly life-expanding experience. But not everyone has the luxury to do that.

The other kind of retreat - and a more fundamental one - is the kind we do on our own. To retreat into ourselves.

It's a function that is a vital part of our mental and spiritual health, survival even.

Innately, we know when we need to pull back, hide away, spend time alone, gather our thoughts, sit with our feelings.

We can do it with nature, with a book, with a movie, on a walk, a run, with music, in a bar, a library, on the couch, in bed.... wherever.

Sometimes it is painful, sometimes with tears, sadness, hurt, sometimes confusion or anxiety.

But we go away, pull ourselves out... and somehow, with time and patience, come out the other end, ready again to face the world.

To retreat is important - a good thing. It is a mechanism for dealing with the 'too-much-nes' that comes along sometimes.

Is it not in the moments of retreat that we truly get to know ourselves?

We spend time, we contemplate, we mull things over, we let feelings wash over us, moods blow over, thoughts gather themselves and find some order.

In times of retreat, we are being brave. Brave in a quiet, necessary way. Brave in a very basic human way.

We know who we are, each of us. The world only knows a version. Everyone knows a different version, in fact, based upon their interpretation and connection.

But we know ourselves. We've been with us from the beginning! And all the way through. How lucky we are to have our higher selves watching over us and protecting our best interests. How lucky we are that we can retreat.

Cause inside us, inside each of us, that's where the real treasures are. When you can accept yourself, see yourself clearly and begin to inhabit your soulful side, beyond the pain and anguish, letting go of the bothersome, old beliefs from the past, when you can sit with yourself in surrender, well, that is something softly, subtly, rather splendid.

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Let's Do That

11/4/2015

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After a long hard nothing
Into something
I have become someone
Extremely familiar
To myself
I must be true

Because, because
This journey
This odyssey
This long, long sequence
Of events
This outrageous collection
Of incidents and occurrences
Begs for meaning
And validation

And who else
Who other
Than the instigator
The actor
The inhabitant
The perpetrator

Who better

To strive
To find
To define
To mould

Some kind of sensical
Credible
Enriching
Uplifting

Form
Story

Historic recounting
Present portraying
Future formulating

Who better

Than self

To do that
Feels like
What I should do

At this point
In the evolution
Of another everyman
A unique genetic and circumstantial
Concoction

Have I not struggled
Most of my life
In one way or another
To make it here

Is that not something
Worth breath
And voice
And exploration
And extrapolation

Isn't now the time
The only time
There is

If I have thought it
And I write it
Will it not be true

For true
Is what I seek
And salvation
And liberation

And to be understood
Or not

But at least
To know in my heart
That all the love
I have known and shared
Has not been for nought

All the tears cried
And the blood split
And the hells faced

Not for nought

For something
From nothing
Is something

And that something
Is a life

A life worth acknowledging
Honouring
Humbly considering
As valuable
With value
Of value
Value

Just another word

Yes

But for the poet

Words
Have meaning
Tremendous

Words can change
Words can transcend

The tyranny of suffering in silence

Words can connect
Connect with other souls

Your soul

This is a poem about you
About you, too

We are talking about
Just how beautiful
You are
You are

Eternal

All of us

Quite the same
In that regard

Let's laugh!

And laugh
And fall in a heap
And forget
Our worries

Just for a while

Let's do that
Let's do that

And call it poetry
Call it living

Because it is

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hidden treasures

5/4/2015

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There's a lot of implied pressure and expectations these days from mainstream society to be ambitious, aggressively proactive in pursuit of career and financial success. It has always been present, growing since the eighties, but with the massive increase of numbers of strivers, step-uppers and wanna-be-famousers it has become even more competitive out there in every field. It is a way that many people, in fact, measure their self worth.

The downside of this is that for every winner there are many losers. As well, the make-it-at-any-cost attitude does no favours for the moral integrity of the game players. Egos battle, feelings are disregarded, the non-achievers are scoffed at and relegated to the fringes. The whole game is one that gives massive financial rewards to the top of the pyramid and a pittance to the bottom. Obviously, it is not fair. In fact, it is blatantly unhealthy and unethical.

There are other options to partaking in this ruthless hunger for gold, however. There are other ways. Better ways. It means first seeing beyond the noxious and infectious fumes of capitalism and materialism. It requires one to see the big picture, ponder on the finer points of existence and choose an alternative that is uniquely suited. The choices are vast, though, in some cases they may require some contemplation, as well as a pinch of courage, a glint of resolve.

It all begins with you. Who are you? What do you believe in? What are your natural instincts, passions?

By listening to yourself, your inner voice and paying it heed, you will start to find your direction. Ignore the calls and shouts of the outside world - family, school, the media - this is a very personal thing and the answers come from within your self.

Whatever you choose to pursue - and you can chop and change as you feel the need - or pursue multiple paths at once - do so with commitment and integrity. If what you are doing makes you happy, feel valuable, feel worthy, feel empowered - then you are on the right path.

I don't know why I have started to sound like a self help book. So, I'll curb it. I guess, though, what I am trying to say is that there are unlimited options - helping your grandmother, kayaking, salsa dancing, sewing, cooking, volunteering, spontaneous travel - and that they exist across a wide spectrum. One needs to not be narrow minded. One needs to question. To seek answers. To acknowledge one's own internal struggle and not look away. Stay with it. Stay with yourself. Invest in yourself.

Oh, no. Self help book lingo returns. Ich! Sorry.

I suppose I am speaking to the young. I am trying to encourage the rewarding journey of self creation. Climbing walls and peeking over. Going too far sometimes. Getting lost. Feeling the pain of existence.

A lot of the best things in life are not written about in magazines. Or online. They are secret treasures. They are precious and personal. They are yours to seek and discover. There is no map. You need to trust. You need to keep searching - for that thing - that thing! - the whatever it is that only you know....

Reality is only limited by your imagination. And your imagination knows no bounds.

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Dead or Improved

ambitious abandon

Retreat

Let's Do That

hidden treasures

ART GETS ME HIGH

Author & Artist

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Dead or Improved

ambitious abandon

Retreat

Let's Do That

hidden treasures

﻿ART ﻿﻿﻿GETS ME﻿ ﻿﻿HIGH﻿

﻿﻿Author & Artist﻿﻿

Archives

Categories

ART GETS ME HIGH

Author & Artist