Old Authors Notes

I don’t know how prepared I’ll be when the test begins…
Facing a fight never let me down, but I am all alone this time
and whatever it is that I know let him find you
before voices and vibrations could take you.
Now I know I’ll go poor finding beats of where you will be
before my attention to old Authors notes that hypnotize the minutes awake
crashes quick raps and short stacks of neatness and jumbled words.
Here’s what’s left: not enough.
I lose myself in feeling, I miss you, I need you.
By now no one under the moon
knows the desert well enough to see your mirage.
So somber, what we won’t dare do or where we won’t dare go,
while acoustic guitars serenade my search
I borrow breadcrumbs to leave false trails
but they eat my hints before he follows
and monsters meet in the darkness around campfires
eating my bread and plotting stories that dead men have written
and win prizes for plagiarism and corrupt ideas of superiority.
I see elaborate columns and papyrus aging yellow
and before I can stop them from devouring my own ideas
I become a part of the imagination they have stolen.
Metallic instruments cloud my ears with strange music
and deep synthesizers mouth intangible words to my eyes,
but I hear sounds of revolution and an overthrow of the monsters
when music douses fires and chases the thieves away
before picking crumbs from the beards of the real Authors.

Signs of Emotion

*Inspired by Painting (Alex Grey, 1998)
http://i111.photobucket.com/albums/n138/crawdad317/n6414449_31622983_4397.jpg

When strokes illuminate an ordinary canvas
To expose the complexity beneath naked form and function,
A light from within can not be contained by any means of systems.
And the circular flaw of man is his passion for aesthetics;
For paint flows through his veins, and eyes interpret the rhythms
When his heart pumps this pleasure through the whole body.
While colors run together and pour off the palette,
The artist animates new creativity as observing eyes scrutinize
And look with helpless jealousy toward the august artist.
A vision even an audience of gods and demons can not corrupt
Inspires a connection deep into the artwork of man;
And only those who can not see the masterpiece are impressed
Because the artist’s abilities may be less perfect than his insight.
Yet still, the radiance of the intricate form
Distracts from frowning faces and the auguries of misfortune.