Wild Child

Wild Child

Tuesday, June 3, 2014

Home Sweet Home

One day
they will realize, that you are not as solid
as the brick walls protecting them
once erected by the strength, and
the courage of your vital force.
Standing tall, you stood for
all the descendants
of a common ancestor.

Those countless brutal winters
take their toll, even on Giants.
Unintended consequences ignored
your weathered mortar crumbling, but still holding together beats
Beating whispers, of
your afflicted conscious.

Your soles should speak
exposing stories, of horrifying sensibilities
our ears never seeping, the
screaming whispers we choose to ignore
details traveling to our senses
your eyes, confessing the particulars
deep inflection, the
mirrored reflection of humanity.

Bitter is he, when
all the sweetness of life is torn away
Misery obscures judgment, yet
we judge him
he sleeps with torment
blanketed by hunger on a crisp night, yet
we torment him.
Passing him we look away
truth be told, with disdain
when his hand reaches out
terror stricken, a reminder
that HE IS US at our worst, yet
he smiles warmly, a sweet token, that
the richness of home is in the heart.

(Sculpture and poem for a show called "Outside the Margins", proceeds benefiting refugees in transition).

Sunday, February 23, 2014

This Year's Energy

The energy of the year brings out a more naughty side to me for my artistic inspiration.
A side of me that people may view as trouble. It fluctuates like the tides and it's on the rise again. A side I usually put to pen and paper. A clutter that fills my mind and that I need to release. Either way I will not hide my true nature. I embrace all of me. I will use this energy to find unconventional ways to grow my talents, to inspire, to maintain a sanity, to partake in the world whatever I am meant to share...

Wednesday, February 19, 2014

Pieces of a Man

Our friendship stemmed
from the fallen petals
of black roses, thorns
deep into our jagged hearts
thriving droplets of hope.

Spread out before me, imperfections
there was no complexity about him
Or so I thought, colorful details
at every curve, glimpsing excitement
at the thrill of possibilities.

Muses, we knew we had, a darkened hallway
led to locked doors, the right-side
of the brain, souls outlined in ink, tears
And sleepless nights: haunting things.

He divulged to me his admiration
purple hues which spilled forth
from my darkness, passion of my nature
months passed as petals fell to the earth, cupped
only by the wind of his words.

You see, there was never a facade
only the raw sting, of his words
whipping against my blushing cheeks
I have nothing to offer you: literally.

He never minced words, simplicity
in his explanation, or so he thought
As if black and white didn't make grey
Coercing perplexed crimson sentiments
scattered by my searching hand.

He was always forthright, the skeletal key
Visible, in the keyhole
No whimpering. No doubt. No regrets lingering in the shadows, 
that his hands would never tamper, with the bones
stirring in our closets.

The saddest thing, I realized
was not the power in his words, but
the worth of his hand, weighted
in every moment lost, raw feelings
nurtured in the torture of prickling thorns.

Be advised, my mind warned me
tangled vines thickly grace those cracks
Do not tip toe through the hallway barefooted
hold true to your instincts, STOP!
Sneaking around in the dark.

I asked my myself, Are you sure?
Yank the key straight out, and
See the light, your own hands
holding the calavera: sweetness.
Pieces of a man, this puzzle: a thorn.
Meant to be, to blossom.