I look out
Peering to the daylight
From within my own cave
A modern day cave dweller
I stomp my feet, pound my fists
Nothing
Not a sound
Not even
An echo
So hungry
But if I go out
Out of my cave
My safe place
Will the light
Burn me
I have been burned
Before
I wonder why
Wonder of all
Wonder when
Wonder how
Wonder of all things
Wonder now
Wonder of woman
Not a wonder man
Wonder of god
Wonder of sorrow
No wonder
Wonderful
Wonder less
I wonder away
Wonder-lust
No wonder in my life
Wonder if I am missed
Wonder if I’ll be missed
Wonder if
I wonder
In all ways uncommon to my life
I try to find you, but you are absent in the wake of my days
Simple, is my mind
I think of you often, in those hours of the sleepless nights
I must so often endure in a cold bed
I seek warmth in you
You that is not present to me in my time of need
Dark and cloudy horizons loom
Drifting clouds of doubt and frustration linger
When the rain comes I am to melt in sadness and fear
Beneath a sun that is black in spirit
Oh my life
Why have you forsaken me to this, a non person?
A shell
Empty and void
Joy
Oh joy
When will you come to me?
I want to sing with you
To shout from the mountain and proclaim my happiness in knowing you
But my voice is shallow and muted
The lyrics of you elude me
Pestilence would be something to see
Deep within
Joy
Oh joy
Come to me
Bring me the peace of ages
Bring me my quiet slumber
Nay, not death I speak of
But the gentle sleep of angelic dreaming
The time when I can be happy
And in delight of my days
I cry sometimes
Sometimes I cry out
Time flies... too fast
I am so slow
Weighted down and burdened
By my own self loathing
Pity me, myself and I
The 3 of us are undone
By our own
Hand
Walking, walking and walking
Wet and sticky
The earth beneath my feet giving way
My life, drags behind me
Like a homeless persons shopping cart
Head down, not to view
The eyes that are watching me
Waiting to see me fall
Uneven and uneasy
Unsure, the earth beneath my feet
Sliding with every step
Backward, like a dancer stepping out of time
Dancing........into Oblivion
Getting dark outside, cold and wetter
The rain coming down, washes away my memory
I fade from view, soon to be forgotten
Wasted years, trying to find hope
I bend down, running my hands through the muck
Hoping to gleam some chance of redemption
Some chance at a life on fertile soil
To watch my dreams grow strong
And not to wilt away
I trudge on, with pain in tow
Supported only by to love of mine
I hope not to fail them
Or myself, while going towards the river banks
The river banks of torment
Which summon me on?
I find a place that's dry, if only for a while
Until the tide comes in
I look upon my feet, tired and swollen
To wipe the mud form my shoes
Mud of sorrow
That rolls back upon itself in my wake
I look at the distance of where I have been
I see no trace; the mud has resettled and covered my steps
No history of me, no signs that I have been
I look forward to where I must go, with hope glazing my vision
Looking for patches of sanity in which to rest my bones
What will become of me now?
Back into the mud I must go
Until
The next moment of peace
The next moment of delight
Wanting the Mud of my life to dry
And praying the is no quicksand
Beneath
I particularly enjoyed looking at the realism of the work, the colors just jumped off the screen and it was very strong in its dimension and how you could see that the artist desired to show the subject in it's truest form. I am going to post this entry to my other 2 blogs on art as to the fact that this artist is one to investigate further.
The above picture is
The Last Day of Pompeii, 1830-33
Oil on Canvas, 456.5 x 651 cm
The State Russian Museum
St. Petersburg, Russia
You can view more of his works at http://www.russianartgallery.org/famous/brullov.htm
Karl Briullov - Self-Portrait, 1848
Oil on Canvas, 64.1 x 54 cm
The State Tretyakov Gallery
Moscow, Russia
Source: Karl Briullov - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
YouTube - CCVisualArt's Channel
I submitted some of my work to Poetry Magazine / The Poetry Foundation (http://www.poetryfoundation.org/index.html) and I am in hopes that they will accept and publish it. I have written and submitted works before, some accepted and some horribly dismissed. I have often wondered why put myself through the agony or crafting my words to paper and then shipping it off like a child to a far away school, hoping that it would be accepted and allow to flourish.
I feel that writers often prepare themselves for rejection, trying to tell themselves that it's just one publisher's opinion or one person out of the many who could possibly appreciate the work. I have in the passed submitted work and then forced myself to forget about it, but in the back of my mind hoping that I get an acceptance letter, only to get a "Dear Sir".... sort of like a "Dear John", or in my case "Dear Joe". I find it interesting that a grown man such as myself, who loves the pen and what it can do, often fears it as well.
I hope that..............( I say "I Hope" a bit too much) - quick re-phrase- I believe that my work should do well, and if not this time with this publication, then another may find it appealing, nothing ventured - nothing gained.I believe in my work, I feel that it has merit and would be appreciated, so I will believe in it until I don't anymore, and then I find the faith to believe in some of my other wonderfully endearing qualities. ( Shameless, Self-Indulgent Plug)
In case you are curious, I submitted "Evermore" the love poem I wrote about and dedicated to my wife Yekaterina.
On to my next act of senseless rambling....
Just a Note: I met Damon when I first moved to California, he has a fresh approach to music and he has a very natural talent for jazz and soulful undertones in all of his compositions, I suggest you take some time to review his work and Music.
Facebook | Damon Castillo Band#/pages/Damon-Castillo-Band/6886083829?ref=s
The work to connect all of my Web Sites, Blogs, Galleries and the like is underway, I will soon infest the Internet like a giant parasitical intellectual virus, causing all of you to fall into the abyss of intelligent pursuits..HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA..
And now for some Tea...
As a writer, I take time to note my thoughts on many subjects, mostly it is poetic or short stories, but writers use the written word to permanently imprint their views and opinions on the world, in books their words are held and then shared with those who seek out their opinion or "wisdom", but on the Internet, a medium that can stream information into the homes of millions all at once, the writer becomes a voice of thought that can impact many lives at once, as well as educate or infuriate. the writer can become more than just a person who writes, but almost an archetype of lost voices of all those he connects with and comes into contact with.
I would also state that now, with this medium, anyone can be a writer, to write and be published, to be used as a opinion or to be the subject of research, to be thought of as an expert or quoted, what does this do to the medium? I feel that this gives rise to the ability of any and all persons to be heard, and whether it is just a person sharing an aspect of their life, or a professor annotating their life's work, all this holds merit. Writing has long been an accepted practice in therapy, one can write down their most inner thoughts, of sorrow or joy, chaste thoughts or perverse fantasy, and get feedback or just to vent, the blog can give us all a way to work through our individual issues and find solace in the minds of those who read this work. to be able to connect with like minds and feel" I am not the only one" there as those like me out there that have similar feelings, and we could reach out to each other, and either be our own salvation, or be together in damnation, either way we would not have to ever feel alone. The blog may be a personal journal, but remember that anyone, anyone can happen across your work and then check back and see everything, when you "Blog" do you realize that you are potentially opening your heart and souls out to millions of people?
I go to my library and I find what I am looking for and sometimes I do not, having to check back to see if it has been returned, but on the Internet, I can go to Google and look up an author, or go to the Google Book Search and find the actual book, scanned and loaded to be retrieved and read, or I could go online to Libraries around the world and find the book in digital form, instant data location, and instant gratification, the blog is the same, you can search, locate and collect any thought anytime and anywhere, this could be good, or it could be yet another way the spoken and written word can be lessened into just another blurb in a data vault, but I hope that this medium can be used for its altruistic and Nobel advantages.
The search for knowledge, to know all things is part of the human condition, the art of faith and belief that we, as living, breathing and sentient beings can archive greatness though the power of our minds is that which can be great and lead to greatness, or take greatness and level it to mediocrity. Lets consider education, one can register online at a college, take classes and graduate, never entering a classroom, some facilities, or companies offer educational classes for free, the opportunity to expand ones mind, in just a few short years has multiplied ten fold, yet it is still not taken full advantage of. I am personally trying to learn Russian, so I can share in my beloved wife's culture, and I find so many opportunities that I am stunned and do not know where to start, but I feel that is a good thing, because I can be stunned, I have not yet become prey to my indulgences and I have not yet become complacent to the "instant gratification" of the Internet.
I plan to work on a Knol, which is considered a unit of knowledge, or so it is said as to be by Google. My Knol is called "The History of Art, and it's effect on Modern Art", now I am an "Artist" but I do not consider myself an expert, but I will write as if I were, this is to serve 2 purposes,
1: to see if I can write a piece that effectively illustrates how Art from the past affect Art of today
2: to see if I am taken as an expert, without proof of accreditation.
I want someone to either tell me I am a genius or call me a quack.I want to see how much my thoughts matter. I would like to see if I can inspire a rational and logical appreciation for my contribution to the collective consciousness and knowledge of the vast universe within my omnipresent, omnipotent and all knowing computer.
"And what of Perversity" I state this because we all have our kinks, we all have something about us, that deep dark secret about ourselves that we don't want anyone else to know, whether it is the fact that we want to be "handled" a certain way by our lover or we have a desire that society deems unacceptable, we can find it on the Internet, blogging is also an opportunity to find this. I have found blogs on almost every subject dealing with sex and sexuality, either exemplifying it, admonishing it or rationalizing it, but in every case, the writer has no doubts about his or her opinion, nor do they ask for any leniency, we can find everything and anything in which to satisfy even the most base and carnal desire, professional or amateur, on YouTube or any of the other myriad of video sites, you can find it all. I do not say that this is a bad thing, if anything at all it is probably one of the best solutions to wipe away the taboo, the "dirtiness" of the individuals desire to obtain their personal pleasure or darkest gratification.
I may have strayed from my original concept, but that's exactly why I am following this derailed train of thought, the art of the "Blog" allows us, as a people to openly exchange all thoughts, good, bad or indifferent. I plan on making many entries, and many thoughts I have open to you, my reader, I claim you and take possession of you, you are mine to entertain and be praised or hated by, I want you to read my work, view my words and my art and let me know what you think, because I feel that you can think and can feel and that it is by inciting thought in you that I am doing what I am supposed to and need to be doing, making you think about life, in any way possible. I hope that you can enjoy my words, and take them to heart, and I hope you will comment and let me know what you need to know next.
I await your reply, my friends.
-A Love Poem for My Wife, Yekaterina-
Just a bit of fun
Before I go, I would like to entertain you
With a song I know
"As I lay with thee in mind"
"I often leave this world behind"
"And as I dream of finer things"
"A simple touch from You, it seems"
"Is all I need to make my life Complete"
"So My Life, My Wife"
Sing with me, the same love song
Ere I go, to sleep alone
And dream no more
Nice Blog Site, has some interesting Architectural Information and style appreciation, I studied Architecture in college and I almost decided to be an Architect instead of an Artist, not to say that Architecture is not an Art, but for me it is too much math and not enough meat and potatoes for the soul. I have a very good friend that became an Architect, he makes good money but lost even more hair than me. I am going to watch this site more closely, so I can find out more of what they have to offer.
I find it interesting, as more things change the more they stay the same. I have always put my faith in the fact that man is flawed, and we look towards a "higher power" to guide us as times get tough, and then forget the assisting forces when we live in good times. I have taken time to remember the spirits that guide my life, and I hope they have not forgotten me when I suffer through the things in my life that trouble me. this article is just that, a notice to us to remember that out in the world, no matter how god or bad, the human condition to resort to a spiritual life is always present.
Read it, and have a good chuckle, or take the advise to heart. As for me, I do my own Tarot Readings.
I am including a Digg it application. Digg tracks my post reads and will add it to the national registry / Internet Feed and will help get my work noticed, so Digg It and help my work grow.
when
now
always
to be
never
to see and end
and again
and again
so many days
so few hours
so little time
so few moments
yet a lifetime
spent
in search of you
my
love
when again
is it time
again
may I see you
again
may I love you
again
and again
and again
and again
if not now
when
when
when
I live my life for you
I live my life with you
I am Obsessed with you
I love you
now, my love now
This is the when
the when is
now
oh vast and luxurious
my thoughts of you
pure are my intentions
with nervous fingers
touching
with eager lips
kissing
my forever love
never have I known
the supple and tender joy
like I know with you
my heart burns and melts away
as time counts down the moments
until morning
when once more I will awaken
to the beauty that is you
of morning come slowly
and let this night continue
never to end
and if it must end, may it revisit us
over and over
so I may bathe once more in you kisses
and be sustained by
passion
I am a self diagnosed Manic Depressive, I have not actually been diagnosed by a physician or therapist, but I do go through moments where I am extremely happy to points where I wonder why I go on. I don't self medicate, I do not use drugs or drink excessively, nor do I abuse my wife or children. but I do self loath to the point of general hatred, not that I would ever hurt myself, nor have I ever thought of anything nasty, but I wonder why people would ever want to know me.
When I am very happy I feel I could move mountains and make time flow for me, a megalomaniac would be a novice compared to me, I feel that my wishes come true and that I have the power to control the cosmos.
when I am depressed, I feel the world as a whole has abandoned me, I go through the feelings I felt when my father died on Christmas Eve some 24 years ago, or when my mother passed only 12 years ago, and my world collapses, this feeling I have more often than I would like.
I paint to show my emotions in a way that I can share without words, I write to share thoughts that I cannot express physically, I speak when I want to make things worse.
I used to be an intelligent person, now I am not so sure.
Failure
the feeling that you
have lost, all that you
have worked for
Gone..............
Have I told you, I am a failure
I have lost all self respect
self esteem
self worth
everything
If I have done something to offend you
then I am truly sorry
If I have done something to initiate
this feeling
that you must turn my insides out
and my heart to dust
then please, continue
exact your revenge
life is nothing
without
failure
it gives one a chance to see how much better than you they can be
when you are down and reach to the sky for some glimmer
of hope and affection
the sun is blotted
and you are left cold and wanting
I am cold
OUCH!
How often the obvious answers elude us all
I look up
Into your eyes
As you lay there watching me
I see a young woman with a fire and thirst
A look of desire that holds me where I am
Wanting more
Giving all that you have
To me
Take my hand and walk with me
To the place in your heart
Deep and pounding
My want for you grows
Every day you wake next to me I know that I am thankful
But what of you?
Do I give you what you desire?
I tend to you
I attend to your garden
Placing what I have in hope that you desire to see it blossom
My love for you in all ways is what I have come to know and need
I trust in my feelings
I feel the need to be with you and deep inside you and your heart
I raise you up upon the altar of my affections
And I worship you and praise you
I am a fool for what I have done
I have committed myself to slavery, but Slave to you and your passions
Not the worst crime
The worst crime would be to waste you, to let you go unloved
The sweet waters of your pleasure enliven me
Fulfill me and feed me
I live off of you, in a symbiotic relation
Though sometimes you may feel like I am a parasite, draining you of life
That may be, but I cannot resist, you sustain me
I know why I love you...............because I do
And that is all I need to know
I may not be the best man, of the man of your dreams
But know this
You are my fantasy, my dream, my goddess
I see you in my mind, my life and in all things
The center of my soul, is you
I take you, and feel you beneath me, holding me
Sometimes it seems that you push me away, but only to let me fall deeper into you
To drink of you and live again
Your touch makes me gasp
Do I deserve you... do I have the right to be with you?
Yes, yes I say because you are mine
All that I have done before this was to ready me for you
Oh you, so young and innocent
My Lolita, my seductress
You have seduced me by not seducing
By not tricking or deceiving
There was no hunt
And to my prey I have fallen
I wish to devour one who is so sweet
You have lived many lifetimes
Yet you are as a precious gem, ever shining
A flower, single in the valley, not to be plucked
But gently deflowered
I would gather up those petals, only to place them back
I wish to proclaim to the world my victory in having you, yet share you with the world
As my singular treasure
A testament to my manhood
Yet
I do not own you; I merely am graced by you
Your heart begins a second beat
One for me
One for another
Which is stronger?
I would accept the weaker of the two, if I must
I was meant to be with you
I don’t know if you were meant
To be
With
Me
But I willingly accept the terms of your love
My love has no terms
No expiration
But an eternity of forever wanting
To be
With you
To attend you
To serve you
To be your lord and master
To be chained to your feet
To look up and know paradise
And see heaven in your eyes
Paradise in your soul
To hold you in my arms
Evermore
I’m sorry
For all the things I’ve done
To,
And put you through
I never meant to do it
But
I was on a roll,
I went with it
But, remember
I warned you
How, well…
I said hello
I introduced myself and you failed to escape
Anyway, slap yourself on the wrist
I warned you and you did not heed the notice
And now you are stuck with me and my loyalty
You have none to blame
But yourself
Don’t blame me
I believe it is common to consider that poetry must rhyme or be in verse, for me I conceive that poetry is an inner expression and does not have to be “historically” set in specific stance. I would like to present to you some of my views in an introspective way, the world as seen through my eyes and felt through my heart. I would not expect everyone to gain a sense of awe or wonder by my words, but if you take the time to look at the way it is composed, you may find it enlightening.
I think too much has been placed on writers, that poetry or works on literature should be presented in a certain way. When we stepped out of the darkness and began to communicate, we had to develop from grunts and gestured movement to complex languages. The human race has grown into many cultures with many forms of independent expression; however the desire for beauty and culture has similar traits in all languages. It is through desire to be close to enlightenment that we write our thoughts down, this is the reason that we take the time to express our inner feelings on paper, for the future generations to see our lives truly unfettered.
Joseph Timmons, would be author
Another very interesting person, My friend Dan, whom is the writer of Infinite Ocean of Light and Love, whom I met at a local book club meeting, and hope to get to know better.
This is my wife's blog, I think she is a great writer, but she does not believe me.
Ok, I am now using a "Blogging" Program so it should be better as far as formatting, I hope so. I feel that a blog is supposed to show you the inner workings of the mind, or in my case... the inner workings of an Insane Asylum, I also plan on posting photos and my written works, so check back often to have a laugh.
I have always thought that I was a little crazy, but in the words of my favorite Star Trek Character
" In an Insane world, it is the sane man that often appears Insane"
So what is my excuse...........
I will also post from blobs that I read, so you can see what I like
