Artists are not drunk enough

intoxicated art

For me, the ability to write only comes in the stillness of the night.
Thoughts, ideas, musings and pondering pass through me during the day.

A word from him, a look from her, a thought from that person expressed through mere presence, my guard is up and I’m on alert and I take notes but I only find the reaping at night when silence prevails, my belly is empty, life forms are otherwise dead and the stillness allows it all to manifest.

Like a bashful girl summoned from behind a veil, some things deserve their own stage.

You must find that place and realise the worlds most noble sages, scholars, writers, artists, musicians and poets all revelled in solitude.

Some may need alcohol to remove these filters and inhibitions, but it will always be a mask, a psychotropic drug that keeps the demons at bay long enough for you to function. But the best of your work will only come when the body is pure, detoxified of material and of ego and ripe with a fertile soil.
-ME

You can’t quell us!

cant quell us now

We have a bevy of quills,
Oceans as ink,
And forests of paper,
So how are you ever going to stop our ideas?
We have mountains as microphones,
Valleys as audiences,
Nature as our recording studio,
So how are you going mute us?
We have voices as machine guns,
Our spirit as fighter jets,
Our hearts as bombs,
So how are you going to win this war?
There’s things you can never win.
You can’t kill people to remove ideas.
You can’t sever limbs to shut people up.
And you can’t use warfare to rule human beings.
Writers, poets and thinkers will stop you in
your tracks and win the hearts of the masses
every time.

-ME

Loneliness – She’s a dark companion.

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This is what my loneliness companion looks like

One day when I was a boy, loneliness visited me.
It showed me the way of the world.
It promised it would not betray me like they.
As such, it has proven a noble companion.
It never strays far from my side.
Ready to take the blows of whatever anyone may throw my way.
Got words? The emptiness of my soul will allow them to pass through.
Got guns? Shoot your bullets as my invisibility fails your aim.
Got fists? The body has become numb to sensation.
Got abandonment? Thank you for adding fuel to my fire.
Got love and companionship? That’s where loneliness leaves me in a dark alley way,
Paralysed and ineffective, the cryptonite of it’s power.

-ME

Egoïste – 4

Narcissus-Caravaggio_(1594-96)_edited

Without the idolatry of

Me,

I wouldn’t have found

the grandeur of

You

-ME

Egoïste – 3

one_eyeland_desert_woman_by_charles_harris_18145

What if I wanted to be a ghost?

Long ago I raised my heart on the steps of your temple,

I asked of you to make me invisible,

Now I balance the sword you gave me carefully.

No longer can anyone see me,

I may as well be dead.

But now I see my Self ever so clearly,

And that is worse than others seeing me.

-ME

The Wall

the wall

My size precedes me.
Say my name and people envision a hard time. A large guy with an ability to talk, conviction backed by brutality backed by humility, now there’s something to ponder over.
‘They can’t exist together’, you say.
Stereotypes of what should or shouldn’t be swarm your mind,
Overwhelm you until your mind collapses,
Your spirit bent over and I knee it to its head.
Beads of sweat fountain out of you,
Buts it’s not sweat,
It’s ignorance,
It’s arrogance, it’s your prejudice,
It’s your lack of compassion.
I built this body on purpose! Not for show, but for purpose.
I can verbose with you ad naseum about the health benefits,
How I will outlive live the average person, how I can crush the average person, albeit all in a perfect world.
But the reason I built it, I have come to discover is to keep you all away, I had to dig that one out on my own.
Whilst your fingers jab away at keyboards,
You comment and opine,
You sit your behind,
You snort the cathartic line
Of social approval, conformist, online.
I learned to close my fists, feeling it viscerally,
Neck pulsating,
Jugular vibrating,
Heart palpating,
Perpetrating,
Violence on flesh,
The real kind,
That’s done and dusted when one of us falls,
I don’t care for your flaws,
Man up and own them all,
Look up from the screen to see past the scores.
And multitudes of panderist’s, of safety network enforcers, of appeasers and cheer leaders.
Some people swear they are introverts,
Swear they like being alone but their guard is down.
I see their body language. They invite you all in willingly.
They don’t have the requisite guarded posture of an introvert.
Stay the fuck away from me. I’m pleasant, left alone.
Don’t come knocking and expect a half arsed attempt of insincere welcome.
Don’t come knocking expecting me to tell you my life’s grievances or what I heard or what I did on the weekend.
Don’t come knocking expecting cordiality and mutual acceptance if there is something I disagree with.
Really, I’m this big because I want to keep you away,
For your own sake, not mine.
Part of it is Gods work, I didn’t choose this height.
Maybe HE wants you to keep away.
However, the width and girth is my work.
The ability to fight you off with ease,
The ability to challenge your mind and break you down with my incessant pestering at the obsessive, compulsive details because you’re only happy if we only lament the surface trivialities,
Yeah, that’s my work too.
So step up,
Step up if you have the gall,
Talk to me, I dare you to climb the wall.
Maybe if you did,  you’d be let inside and realise this large cavity I have created was to be able to house as many of you,
Safely,
Securely and passionately.
Yes there is a wall, it’s high but if you have claws and feet, you can climb in, come over that wall, and be secure within its confines.
Maybe I purposely built it that high to only allow those with real drive, with sincere intentions inside.