ART MORAN
Awakened by the echoes as the thunder reverberates off the Earth’s crest, trembling as the madness of my methodology screams; a dream of unity, yet the epic message falls upon deafened ears.
Afraid to open my mouth, for if I allow my frustrations to speak, then so goes a touch of anger, outclassing my persona, as the real me remains hidden behind a fortress wrought by Yours Truly, constructed to withstand any threat; mental, physical, spiritual, financial, or by way of any animalistic attack!
Standing alone, as the bell tolls, time freezes, stops & stalls, as space becomes void, and all that’s been promised remains broken, undelivered, and obstructs the white canvas I once admired, and paints a dark portrait of a cold, and vile world, full of unwelcomed intrusions.
Tired, I step back, absorbing the silence, seeking council from no one, as everyone’s running amuck with blood covered hands, and a story of how little they did wrong, while everyone knows; the answers I seek rarely require direct questioning, but are acquired by silent observations conducted using the formula’s of old.
The recipes may change as do the names, whilst the appetite remains, feeding, feasting, hunting, and seeking something, anything that might sustain, satisfy, or substantiate meaning, purpose, or significances’ rightful claim.
An inheritance, a stock, a share, a price we all must pay by birthright, in a conquest to fill the mysterious, yet, ever present void within, that which seldom vacates our being, regardless of how much, or how little we acquire in the course of our lives, in a second, a minute, hour, week, month, or even in the course of a year!
It’s physical, psychological, philosophical, spiritual, metaphysical; no doubt! – But we lace up the gloves, shoveling shit from our mouths, until someone comes along and delivers a perplexing blow to our groin, our ego, or even knock’s us the f..k out!
Expeditions consisting of acquisitions blinding our eyes, deafened by the intelligence we all possess, cause we become impaled by depravity, denial, and whispers of fear delivered in the reflections of humanity’s infectious pestilence, to wit, we weigh everyone, everything, on some elaborately constructed 10,000 year old rendition of scales, that don’t, and NEVER did exist!
Collegic explorations cannot equate, only subliminally rate the genius of others who’ve crossed the thresholds of sanity’s realm, returning to all whom swore that they had lost it, or had nothing left to offer, take, rip, rob, explore, or rape!
There’s truly no degree, or level of intelligent means to determine, measure, weigh, nor substantiate the infinite acclamation of information made available for us to acquire, nor obtain, concerning understanding, knowledge, and glimpses of wisdom, or the treasures that separate us from our apathetic nature’s during an empathetic transformation taking place, in people everywhere, around the globe, as time heals all, no matter, no mind, no time to waste; not at all.
Concoctions of poetic expression centered in the canvas, as these colors don’t run, and no double-headed, split tongued serpent, adder, lion, nor snake can penetrate these wings, to wit, my family and I remain shadowed under, upon, by, in, and as, a direct response to our perverse, bold, and profound investment into a Higher Power, a higher faith, and ominous presence, guiding our final destination, our resting place, and ultimately; our fates.
Flipping the switches as the pathetic infuse, imbue, and attempt to integrate themselves in their selfish indiscretions, cynical hospitalities, desires of flesh driven euphoria, and sinister devotion to superficial or monetary gains, and the festering nature of seeking false empowerment, concerning misdirected principles, whilst becoming entangled by a web of infamy, that their greed driven arachnid phobia has sewn, as they exchange one exterior prison for another internal depravity wrought – written cage!
No barriers!
The ‘essence’ of freedom, it’s both evident, yet elusive since mankind began, need I write it? Speak it? Buy it? Or Sell it? -when we all know right from wrong?
Yet, whom ever elected to have the pleasure to strip the soil, and cultivate are seemingly gone. Now that chore has been purchased by predators who’ve groomed themselves like pompous tools to the likes of mushrooms; keeping us in the dark, and feeding us bullshit for far too long!
I can write it in a conundrum, a riddle, a rhyme, a eulogy, a testament, a will, a contract, a song, in any format; oral, poetic, even prose, but I don’t suppose, it would be as well receipted as that to which I can write it in a language even a four-year old knows!
Homer the Greek poet, to Einstein’s; “Theory Of Relativity” his mathematical genius interpretations using numbers, as so to, Isaac Newton’s; “Theory of Motion” is all the same either way, “The Writing’s On The Wall”, I’ve read the signs, visited the library of endless imagination, that place Aristotle spoke of; “Metaphysics”, and shares the same stock as that of Eastern Philosophy’s, like; Budda, to the Western civilizations, the life of Christ, and all points between, stored housed in the Akashic records.
Clearly, the stock I hold is not superficially wrought, nor meant for me to keep, as it’s a gift, a treasure, a storehouse of wisdoms, I; myself do not feel worthy of, as I’m left to question; “What is right anymore?”
Still… I stand, neutral, in the balance, between Heaven and Hell, on the front lines, I close my eyes, and I see angels and devils laughing, and dancing together, as I attempt to interpret these masterful revelations into words, whilst I feel I’ve known all along; that it requires a negative and a positive to motor everything, everywhere, just to be, just to live, as does the forces of energy, electricity, and the secrets of the universe linger in the midst; whilst we; human beings, argue ourselves to death, attempting to establish the status quo!
“Who Am I?”- They ask.
“Who the fuck are you?”- I wonder.
Just as Roger Daultry cried out in the ‘Who’s’ still ever present wisps of wisdom infecting the airwaves on radios around the globe, spanning 8-tracks, albums, cd’s, dvd’s, and currently through internet downloads and MP3’s.
Many of us don’t know!
Others are living to die, and others are dying to live.
Blinded we run, and deaf we are all, I suppose.
If only equality wasn’t divided, segregated, obstructed, and obscured by the influences of arrogance, egos, pessimisms, judgmental bias regard, and pestilence!
Paraphrasing; President Eisenhower; “Lead, Follow, or get out of the damn way!”
It’s a similar notion I share, but even still people…
There is no quick fix, no cure, no magic pill, nor liver plaguing potion… not even sex, gambling, psychiatry, or anti-depressant, nor a single prescription - approved by the FDA (That do more harm than good!) is going to save us. Yet, our pharmaceutical dependencies far exceed our reliance on foreign oil, or any one threat from any one fanatical religious creed abroad, including the Middle East, or Osama Bin Laden!
The canon I bear in the left of my chest, is armed with truth, and begs for escape, as my pen gently glides, bleeding page after page.
An artist’s escape?
Or
Escape Artist?
I cannot say, for to let my passion go will expose me exploit me, increasing the demands upon me, which is not why I write!
The words take on a life of their own, as I am sewn, interwoven, trapped in this tranquil medative expedition, to wit, there’s no beginning, nor end!
Here I am me, I am whole, I am in awe, stricken innocence of wholeness and peace, as my own mind becomes stimulated, fascinated, and impart confused as to the source, the origin, in which this passion finds me, leaving me to question; “are these words as true as they feel?” or are they “fake?”
I don’t know!
To increase my following is to also sure to increase my enemies, and having witnessed, envisioned, preconceived, these premonitions intrude, revelations, I do not control, understand, comprehend, nor might I ever feel so worthy to be able to honor, or single-handedly uphold!
After all, what might I ever truly hope?
Might I only hope and pray I’ll be so kind, to leave behind, a promise from the base, to the top of life’s mountain, for when I do eventually make the seemingly impossible climb, and post a flag flying high, in honor of my namesake, and of course, to God; Jesus Christ, let that be a marker to denote, and divulge; who I was, and where I’d been, so as one, or a million can see, it indeed can, and will be done, by anyone with faith, courage, and tenacity!
End Part 1 of 3
(To Be Continued)
Just as soon as my lazy ass decides to type the rest!
Peace Out!
Art
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