thunderstorms
lighting up the sky
behind the lights of the city
sparking joy in my eyes
and midnight evening’s ending
like i’m actually a
new york city artist
thunderstorms
lighting up the sky
behind the lights of the city
sparking joy in my eyes
and midnight evening’s ending
like i’m actually a
new york city artist
poetry
to keep non-poets away
that is not for me to say
i am here to help you see
the arts are always welcoming
you need only find the place that makes sense
in your own soul
everyone can poem
everyone can paint
everyone can act/sing/dance/make/
do
if you want to
if your drive is to express yourself
[it gets complicated when careers and livelihoods are at stake,
but art for art’s sake —
that is always for
every
one]
they say to be a good actor
you have to live some life first
is the same true about writers?
they say “write what you know”
and if you know shelter and
safety and never worrying
and never feeling anything
won’t your writing be…
kinda beige?
but as a writer,
as an actor,
as a poet,
we feel things with the intensity of a human being
thrust into the sun a thousand times over;
we take our [possibly mundane] lives
and crank our imagination up to eleven;
we seek experiences to suck life from
and try to make art from the remnants…
is simply living life too much for an artist,
or is it exactly what the artist needs?
[or am i over-thinking everything]
[and isn’t that what creatives do, too?]
when one job
one gig
one life
gets in the way of
another job/
gig/
life
it’s annoying
it’s frustrating
it’s bad but it’s not terrible
because this is what i mean[t] when i say[said]
i cannot
stay in one lane
my
entire
existence
[so i suppose
this is the price
to pay]
i think my lot in life
is to fight fascism with
art
humanity
and softness
i don’t know how much of an impact i can make
but i can make you think about the fact that i don’t consider
fascists
humans
and perhaps that’s enough to get our brains working on critical thinking once more
a play
made of poetry
an art experience
guided by the muses
turning the mirror back on
the artist himself
a connection
with a group
who might just make new york
worth staying
if
we’re staying
i think
i was enamored
in the myth of celebrity
that i wanted the concept of me
as an artist
more than i wanted
to make the art
i could make
and now that i’ve turned my whole perspective upside down
and realized that celebrity might be a little [lot] too much for me
i’m so lost in terms of what kind of art i’d want to make
but the art still flows through my blood
and makes a home in my bones,
but do i treat celebrity like a goal
or a disease i’m to avoid?
or
[more likely than not]
do i try to concentrate on my art
and turn my head away from all celebrity
good
and bad
and just live in the art
that’s in my head/heart/body/soul/me
have you ever seen art
that makes you want to
be
a better artist?
that makes you want to
pry yourself open
and create the most honest art you can?
that makes you want to
be vulnerable
be truthful
be fully yourself
through your own art?
and
even though you don’t know necessarily how
you do know
it’s possible
because of someone else’s
great, honest, vulnerable, truthful
art
?
i used to be so impressed
by those folks who sat
in a courtyard and offered
immediate poetry for any who asked
but i feel
after nearly two full years
of daily writing
and spouting
whatever comes to the top of my poet-brain
i could probably buy a typewriter
and park myself in any park in the city
and ask for only tips in a jar
and write and write and write for others
and maybe that
would be an artist’s life
for me