DKGS: A Diary

Consider my peace held

But I am going to confession

I’m outside that great oak box

And I can tell the priest is waiting

With such patience as I weave my basket

Full of lies and misconceptions

Here I am at my own altar

Waiting for a bridegroom

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it

You must have known how I felt

I held my peace though not forever

And I’m waiting for you to let go of yours

And embrace the war

Let’s embrace the war

I am finished with confession

I have no more news to tell

My sins are said and done with

I have exited the depths of hell

My peace is held

In confidence

I confess to you

I confessed to him

The things I’ll never let breach my lips

Or sail upon this breath of devils

Now do I hold you

Til death do we part

In sickness and health

Til your health breaks my heart

Timid is the beast
When beauty surrounds it
Darkness only fears the light
For light does give it life
We live for beauty and goodness
But that is what makes us dark
What makes us sad
What keeps us down is a mountaintop
They say that beauty killed the beast
But the beast had the will to live
Because beauty existed
A shadow is cast by a light-source
A light only generates darkness
I live for the dark corners
The portions of the mind which create thought
Enlightenment casts dark images
Art is forged of black flames
Living for the promise of light giving emotion
Art burns in the darkest recesses
So my friends beauty killed no beast
It did not first create
I am a silhouette
A shadow in a sea of light
Art
Existence
I am beauty
I am the beast

Impressionism captivates the soul

Into a picture

A series of bright strokes

So fresh and clean they blur

Into the truth

Begin with one blank canvas

Look upon the world with eyes of blue

Or green or brown or grey

It makes no difference

Night or day

Just paint with strokes so gentle

Each one only is a whisper

Of a ginger touch, an echo

Of the world and all its feelings

Let it breathe

Paint out your breaths with vibrant hues

With subdued hues and strokes

With brushes made of eyelashes

Blinking upon the blank canvas

Just brushing and dusting

And swirling the tempest

In lines and in splotches

Of perfect cohesion

Take moments from life

Immortalize them in stony, dried

Paint like you mean it

With your life, I mean

Just live it

Make impressions on your precious

Little lady or young gentleman

But do

What you

Have to

To be new

Impressionism captivates the soul

Into a dead tableau

Which breathes and beats

A life much greater than reality

Now do

Like those before you

Pick up a brush

Don’t you dare sketch

Now take the pallet

And your dabs of liquid

Gold and red and green

And all the colors in-between and far beyond

Make love to the canvas

Make a new life

Let it breathe through your touch

With just the stroke of a brush

Breathe a sigh of relief

I see Atlas in the distance

You can straighten out your spine

And feel your lungs expand

Wipe the sweat from your brow

Wash your face

Change your clothes

You can live

You can breathe

You can feel

You can sleep

You could eat if you wanted

You could leave the world

Or settle down and rest

Go start a family

Atlas is back

It’s on his back

So breathe a sigh of relief

Atlas will take up the position

The world is not made for humanoids

To hold and support

You have your world and he has ours

So love your tiny slice of reality

Keep it close in your hand

In the palm of your hand

Little lady, I love you

Now go live your life

Atlas has his that you borrowed

Now you have his that he stole

I no longer wish to exist within the confines of reality

That is not to say I have ever been a real person

This is merely my distress at the existence of the concept of existence

I am bothered by life’s definition

For I am neither a concept nor an absolute

I do not beat within truth

We are abstraction: undefinable unreality

Mere use of the word undefinable seeks to define it

I choose to define myself

I am something which may only be described as the verb to be

Just as a sound is relative and the deaf reject your reality

So my life is relative and unreal

I no longer wish to exist within the confines of your reality

Do not seek to define me

In doing so you define only yourself

As an egotistical master of circumstance

Your reality is not my own

It is not my cup of tea

For I have no cup and do not drink tea

I prefer soda

In a glass half nothing for it is full

Half with liquid, half with air

I choose to define my own unreality

For the void, the abyss is much warmer than the world

Reality is not mine or yours or even real

It is only a rational explanation for the irrational

I do not exist within the confines of this reality

We could build sandcastles in the snow

Perfect white houses

Neat and clean

Pristine and smooth

Sculpted in heaven

By the devil’s pail

And with an angel’s shovel

Piercing Earth

The storm is coming

Blizzard’s wrath creating splendor

Death in blankets

Beautifying life

And apprehending values within a white light at night

We can build castles in the snow

Sandcastles with rooms with views

Snowcastles

Crystalline, diamondized towers

Possessing the most splendorous nonsense

I’d like to build our castle in the snow

So it can melt

And we can start over again

Sandcastles are washed away

Losing form and drifting

Snow may melt but it will come again

Unless a lightning bolt strikes sandcastles

And makes it glass

It cannot glisten

Snow castles may permeate the ground

And bring forth grass

For a lawn

For a white house

With a picket fence

And some number and a half of children

But for right now

We can build sandcastles in the snow

I’d like that

I felt the well overflow

And as it did I saw a light die in my reflection

All at once the wellspring dried

Leaving no trace of moisture anywhere

But in a yawn

Or perhaps a gust of wind from a bellows

Or an approaching storm

What rain did fall came from other clouds

As the light dimmed and suffocated

Smothered by reality

Extinguishing a signal fire

Guiding boats with safe passage guaranteed

Tonight there will be a shipwreck

Tonight the rocks will win

The sea will claim its vessel

A locker will be undone

Its contents spilled over the ground

In place of a dry river

And a stagnant waterfall

This is the story of how the light faded

Of how the shadows eve faded

For want of a silhouette

For want of a lamp: a sun: a star: any source of light

The moon itself only lights with reflection

I saw a reflection

The moon dimmed

The sun went out

All this at the delivery of a shock

There was a need for a funeral procession

The pyre lit

The light died

And I was lost

My reflection showed my true colors

But the world was black and white

I felt no life

I did not die

But my soul shattered

I am broken

But the mirror’s shards failed to reflect

Anything but the truth

Yet the truth had nothing to show

And so the mirror was blank

This is the story of the day the light died

The day my soul flickered and fell

What heart is mine is yours

But I have none

Possessed by my extremities, the internal conundrum of civil war echoes around my skull, around the cage holding my lungs as I struggle to breathe.

My feet may walk, legs helping me stand tall, but these together are why I run.

It is not fear

It is not longing

It is a raging fire within my soul, dousing kept out by closed windows cascading tears.

Hands may hold and arms may sway, but to strike another is my own doing.

It is not fear

It is not anger

It is a misunderstood emotional whirlwind venting itself at the universe through physical demonstrations of power.

My head can think, echoing in silent voids, holding not even a shadow, not even darkness or light.

To harbor ill will is conscious.

It is not fear

It is not ignorance

Which leads the mind astray and plunges daggers into the hearts of others.

My soul is a conflagratory tidal wave held by the floodgates.

We who ignore the war we wage upon ourselves built the damn.

What I do not see I do not know

I see nothing

It is not fear

It is complacence

I choose to know only what I now know.

I never wish to learn more

IamNotAfraid

And yet, let me peek, one shade drawn, at the world beyond my soul.

Beyond the dam

The rain falls

The fire burns

And I draw one curtain aside

It is fear which motivates us, and it is disregardence of that fear which promotes ignorance.