from then to now

Misery lay but two bridges away sleeping. How does one ever wake up, let alone wake others? I keep a collection of shells secretly hidden amongst all the beaches of the world. I awaken amongst a field of fragrant wildflowers. Time to get up. #awake #awakening #poet #poetry #poetsofinstagram #poem #fromthentonow #journey #change #tumblr #lifeisanartproject #flowers #wildflowers #secretshellcollection #stayfit #stayfitphysically #stayfitmentally #stayfitspiritually #getup #misery

Surrender to the emptiness Unfulfilled can not be filled from outside Feeding it just makes it more dense This is my sickness Love it and respect it for from that empty place shall spring forth a new universe amidst a wild explosion of cold heat and many colored flowers

Take the mask off and Put your face away Peel the flesh off And let the muscle and tissue bleed a dripping pool of honesty Once it has cooled and survived the frigid winter fresh fragrant lilacs will begin to bloom And I begin to be cleansed by their scent #art #artistsofinstagram #poet #poetry #poetsofinstagram #poem #fromthentonow #journey #change #tumblr #awake #awakening #lifeisanartproject #masks #honesty #lilacs

Thanks to @johnirwinsblog for the painting class and thereby inspiration for this piece.

spiritual exhaustion (written 2018) The sound of the shells beneath my feet The gull caws and then repeats I pause ... And then repeat ... The cool salt air stings and I breathe out the dragon smoke of a thousand feats. I am lost underneath deep in between a goal I can't see and found in the Spring that won't arrive Now off to the next beach to leave a piece of each beast that lingers beneath my reach Yet still alive And trample ... Oh so sweet ... So I can arise. Artwork by nature. #art #artistsofinstagram #poet #poetry #poetsofinstagram #poem #fromthentonow #journey #change #tumblr #awake #awakening #beast #beach #whatnow #lost #alive #arise #mothernature

Artwork by Melissa Sue Gauthier

Above (written 2017) Beneath the umbrella of the divine the pulsating rain creates a drumbeat on the surface Beneath the surface it echoes The rhythm oozes beneath my skin and beneath the terror of the past it becomes beneath me The fear isn't real I am conditioned by the past But here and now is where I stare at You Patiently awaiting our locking of eyes Artwork by William Burdett

the insecurity feature I see breath in Your eyes a pulse of a heartbeat breathing rhythmically amidst chaos Amidst fear Amidst anger: the fear Amidst sadness: the fear Amidst disappointment and resentment: the fear terrified as if lives were actually in danger and the danger: happy potential god ... I hate that word potential... and happy... Fuck happy. do not know happy do not know enjoy do not know relax ... which is ... all ... well, the fear. giant glacier of scared little child feel frozen, immoveable but feel beautiful anxiety move me the breath in Your eyes, that pulsing rhythmic heartbeat breath somehow calms the chaos and melts my insecurities into tiny puddles which should evaporate But they are thick and viscous, blood puddles of unknown Artwork by William Burdett

the monument a forgotten about short story The groundbreaking ceremony commenced with little fanfare. While progress was initially very slow over time it's pace and intensity steadily increased with a frantic and illogical rhythm. No connection to a schedule. Just an insane obsession. One small, seemingly meaningless shovelful at a time the hole was dug. The descent occurring millimeter by centimeter by inch. The monument would be created in this place. A testament to controlled descent. An unattainable perfection driven by madness which would strike onlookers with such awe they could not help but cower at the mere sight of it. They will fall to their knees at the slightest feeling of the power this monolith will radiate. The hole grew. A vast emptiness began to make it's presence known. Where once visitors to this location could admire the hard work and toil at a safe distance they began to only walk the edge and stare, jaw agape, at the creation. Giant shovelful by shovelful continued, daily, morning noon and night with no capacity to stop. The larger the hole the greater testament to superiority. ...until... The hole was so large there was no escape. All initial intention for the project was no longer possible. The grand design became a death trap. Where once was solid footing was simply empty space. The great plan, the enduring timeless majesty of my creation was unattainable. In it's place just a hole. The hole was dug until the whole was lost. The bottom rock. The walls steep unclimbable cliffs. The original powerful essence of purpose forceably discarded and replaced by despair for escape from the hole. All alone. No more visitors marvelling at the site in anticipation. Now a safety hazard through which safe passage was not possible without significant damage. Others began to fill the hole. Burying me. No concern for me. Against me. I'd scream but was too deep to be heard and let them bury me alive. Piece by piece making the hole whole again, being buried, but through this now able to claw and dig out to a new beginning. Using water and sand to build a strong foundation this time with an attainable plan. This time building a home for my soul instead of an impossible monument to the ego of my failed unattainable dreams.

sus·cep·ti·ble /səˈseptəb(ə)l/ (written 2017) A gash to the deep emptiness. It gushes a rainbow of blood from a myriad of colorful fulfilling life. My god the longing... Is it because I wish I could share this with You? Where are You? ... Well, isn't that so beautiful you asshole. And what have they done with Me anyway? I'm still right here. The one that's going to consume everything. Do You feel that presence? Do You know? Waiting to explode. An instant: a beautiful supernova. This moment We can't escape. In an instant that emptiness collapses contracts consumes can You contain Me? How long? I'll wait. I'll become so dense now stops persisting. But for this Now I'll retreat. My god the longing... I'm no longer afraid of You but the danger is very real. Artwork by Daniel Teixeira

i'm too small, a poem (written 2017) When I next saw You time didn't just stop, it ceased existing. The banshee inside me unleashed a wail and the entire universe wept stardust. In that blackout a nanosecond passed and I waited billions of sorrowful lifetimes there for You. That sensation. A stranger: unfamiliar glorious, happy anxiety. In that feeling the enormous tears of stardust take form and I am whole. I becomes Us. This, I think, must be love. But we never knew. The fear held me back as we slowly strolled past each other only momentarily locking eyes in the flirtatious glance of "what if?" Artwork by William Burdett

àI’m not creative anymore. My creativity died against a backdrop of the clouded moon on a cool spring evening. Plans planned, cancelled, planned, & cancelled again. What happened to my will? What happened to my force? My creative force? The one that lets me know everything is all right- the arrogance that filled my soul and let me walk blindly in the world knowing I’m all there is. When I’m gone there will be nothing. When my creativity is gone… ? I’m not creative anymore. I have no audience. My audience died the day I stopped trying. My creativity died behind the backdrop of a blue room as I turned and rest my head to sleep. 5/12 and 5/13 Year 2000 Sculpture and picture of sculpture by John Irwin manipulated into song cover artwork

A mystery of planets. Shoreline off the coast. A ravishing hell fire lightning up the sky- Offset on our Earthly journey. God’s plans, plants, and planets keeping us company. The inhalations & exhalations of our lungs. & of course home to trouble… always home to trouble… & the ghost in my mind Written 1990s Artwork by Bill Burdett

- whip - whoosh whoosh * splat * The pond is empty. Beer bottles can’t hide in the mud. - whip - whoosh whoosh * splat * Ah- there’s water left in the middle. 1999 Picture by Jay D’Arrigo

Moonglow woman shaped moonglow flowing irreverently against the tides ever present ever knowing ever drowned? Lit Like a Candle lit like a candle -(whisper in her ear) can you hear my breath? can you feel my breath? rolling… gliding along the curves of your body -(whisper in her ear) sensuous words I caress you with language lit like a candle -(whisper in her ear) I am your fiber optic Written 1999 Artwork by Matt Tengler

Trips from Youth till Now Circular. No… Rather, elliptical. Yeah… I had to walk farther than I thought. But it seemed so much shorter than the last time. You pointed out that silly path and made me chase that damn brat. But I couldn’t run. You couldn’t have made it a square. No, that would’ve been too easy. Even if you did change it you would’ve made it a rectangle or a trapezoid… … Even our trip to the pentagon only left pictures. Rectangular pictures. But we did take that one and matted it so it appeared to be an oval. You were so pretty. Round, elliptical. Hourglass. Shapes. So shapely we were. Together we created great circles. We were x2 +y2 =r2 When the x’s (squared) and y’s (squared) combined we formed our circular radius. (squared, of course) Trips from Youth Till Now a revision Circular. No… Rather, elliptical. Yeah… I had to walk farther than I thought. But it seemed so much shorter than the last time. You pointed out that silly path and had me chase my own life- a straight line. But I couldn’t run. You couldn’t have made it a square. No, that would’ve been too easy. Even if you did change it you would’ve made it a rectangle or a trapezoid… … Even our trip to the pentagon only left pictures. Rectangular pictures. But we did take that one and matted it so it appeared to be an oval. You were so pretty. Round, elliptical. Hourglass. Shapes. So shapely we were. Together we created great circles. And then a fluctuation. No longer were we simplified in two dimensions… We were a sphere. Until we no longer fit together. Me, a pyramid- you, a strange cube-like variation. And now, a 4 dimensional existence. With buildings and hills. Written 1997 Picture by Ben Chase

untitled (written mid 1990s) Flowers in full bloom float upon the dead sea. Is that the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen? The stars at South Shore as I sit in a lifeguard chair. Is that the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen? Probably not as beautiful as You, my dear. Definitely not as beautiful as You, my dear.