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Art as prayer

November 26, 2016

I’ve been old
and I’ve been sad
once in a while
art as prayer

I was and I wasn’t
I could and I couldn’t
I did and it was done
art as prayer

the turn of a chin
and the flash of a smile
a skip of a beat
and a twang of a heart

I’ve had my moments
I will have more
I ask for little
art as prayer

another cheek to turn
another bridge to burn
another soft return
art as prayer

you start with your block of stone – some days it’s marble,
some days it’s clay, some days it’s wood – and you tear away
and scrape away, as life gives clues and takes its tax, then
the chipping becomes finer, and slowly the outer self portrait
is sculpted into something that resembles the inside. it’s easy
to lose heart, and to be persuaded towards a smaller nose or
more upper lip, but persistence is rewarded. sometimes it’s
worth closing your ears to hear what’s going on in
the silent world

machete in the spiritual jungle
stars above the spiritual ocean
base camp on the spiritual shore
art as prayer

another pair of patched pants
another change of guitar strings
another smudge on a blank page
art as prayer

art as prayer

I just figured out who you are – same character, different
actor – or is it the other way around? That’s why I
expect things from you that are never delivered, that’s
why you surprise me with whims and belligerencies

it will soon be over
and it will be replaced
and it will confuse again
art as prayer

who is the planet
who is the moon
where is the sky
art as prayer

forbidden words
unknown symbols
distant messages
art as prayer

the foolishness of a fool
the forgetfulness of the forgotten
the restlessness of the rest
art as prayer

falling off the path
stumbling home
sticks and stones
art as prayer

everything is preparation, so allow it to be. you’re doing fine,
keep up the good work. we are all cursed, blessed, and
neither cursed nor blessed. would you trade it all for
a boxful of hope?

your happiness
and my happiness
may not be the same
art as prayer

where do we come from?
from our childhood
over the horizon, under the rainbow
art as prayer

Narcissus is no longer a myth. we have fallen in love
with our own cleverness and gaze at ourselves in abject
wonder. no longer intent with what’s going on, we must
capture it to validate its importance, lest we forget what
it looked like, that which we did not see, but only captured

it sounded like a sigh
but of course I could not hear it
it sounded like a sigh
art as prayer

poets in coal mines
eyeglasses for faces even
verifying bona fides
art as prayer

unrequited paradox
universe under strobe
vulcanised aether
art as prayer

another deceptive dimension
brings partial illumination
to haggard perception
art as prayer

Sisyphus is no longer a myth. we have fallen in love
with our endless scurrying under an avalanche of
debts and demands, the gods of CPI and GDP.
claustrophobia incarnate. rebellion commoditised,
trapped in thought experiments. you are your own
grave digger, renting the bloody shovel. your good
name is your signature, used as a stick to beat you
with. they told you what to want, and blessed you
with your cardboard, piss-soaked hamster wheel.
good luck. maybe you’ll lose your sense of smell

golden chaos
silver magic
the bronze age
art as prayer

I do not always get to choose
when my tears are brought on show
today they were and I had to explain
my happy sadness, or
sad happiness
art as prayer

art as prayer

the autumnal death of a poet
the search for the right questions
all of this poem is for you, LC
art as prayer

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