After a while, I get to thinking all that has come to pass. I get this way when I walk. A sort of locomotive thought unable to stop once the resolve to just take the stride and the feet kept switching places before one another, towards any destination I have in mind.
- This or maybe I just don’t have enough money for a bus fare. Which work both ways since at these times I do a lot of pondering.
Like turning your head from whence you came but moving forward:
The love and affection, freely given,
- This often starts then whole thought engine revving.
The songs sung with wanton sincerity,
The capturing of life and ideas into detailed ink depictions on paper,
- Of course I have decided on this long ago but took some time taking off, what, with all the financial inadequacies that has befallen my so-called artistic career.
The hurt sustained by those we love,
The pain we gained from those we loved,
- Truth is, up until now I still think I was adopted, even with all the evident hereditary characteristics present in me as by my siblings, still I feel very different from my brothers. I even feel that I share a kind of Thor-Loki relationship with one, but I’m not sure which one- the brute or the prankster.
The trust professed and destroyed,
All the trappings of a feeling human whom we pictured ourselves to be, those whose beliefs in a higher power, whom we are supposed to follow without questions, but whose wrath may soon come upon us in fiery brimstone and searing horror. The sainthood our forbears tried to instill on our childish minds, feeble thoughts of tne afterlife may be a reward for our suffering…
- And the idea of worshipping a wrathful, vengeful godhead is absurd. If that is true, then by no means the devil is much more agreeable.
We suffer for our passion, we suffer for our art. Continue reading