Wednesday, June 2, 2010

Some Words Choose Themselves....(Sub-Clear-Un-Conscious Musings, Part I)

{...from the Catholic Encyclopdia}

-Consciousness:(Latin conscientia; Ger. Bewusstsein) cannot, strictly speaking, be defined. In its widest sense it includes all our sensations, thoughts, feelings, and volitions--in fact the sum total of our mental life.

{...from Mirriam-Webster's Dictionary}

-Conscious: Perceiving, apprehending, or noticing with a degree of controlled thought or observation - sharing another's knowledge or awareness of an inward state or outward fact.

What follows are a few words that came from within my own consciousness about my perception about everything from the cliche (love) to current events (the artistic merit of popular music culture). Many of these works stem from failed attempts to write lyrics for songs that were works in progress & somewhere along the line my focus shifted. I'm a big proponent of "if it don't fit, don't force it," so sometimes I write just to be writing, all the while hoping that the release would generate something greater or give light to something else around the corner, in my mind, that I was waiting to discover. I guess it's what many would many consider poetry, but I just think of them as expressive thoughts that I held in what feels like a long time ago. I hope you dig.

MUSE: First Movement

As I journey through this land of thieves & cutthroats,

I summoned the "Queen of Hearts Within All Art(ist)s" for help...& hope.

It was rhymes that she wrote.

Not Murder.

Because in a world so wide, why not try to free one's mind in order fly further.

For shouldn't we all know by now why the caged bird sings?

You can pick to kick tragic tales of street dreams gone awry. When hopes that sky skyscrapers...all in the name of love of for that paper, tempt you to taste the sweet sins that sugar the American Pie.

But not I.

I'm far too busy trying to build wings out of words.

MUSE: Second Movement

I intensely search my mind, so I can find...just the right words to construct my lines.

To speak of powers greater than what you feel with a 9' or 32's, for true fools think that guns save you.

Or that tecs bless any context...& can grant you the respect that you seek.

That's why I attempt to infect & affect the minds of the blind that treat statements suspect as sustenance for the mental.

Can't you see that the situation is critical?

My essence is independent, but you label me a liberal.

Since my beliefs, individual, lean to the left...perhaps I'm just not quite right.

But aren't we all...not...quite...right???

Perfect imperfections that say that "it is" because we say so.

Yeah, I'm left. Left handed. A left-handed thinker, so I guess that makes me right brained.

Or is it left?

Looks like I'm not quite right.....again.

Though I scour my mind for lyrics.

The essentially absurd adjectives & adverbs speak spoken word.

Do not fear it.

For it is the fear, the pain, & the simply be, that manifested itself in words, compelling me to express.

Febuary 14th

I refuse to settle.

Though I may wear my heart on my sleeve, it shouldn't be difficult to believe.

Cause this is me.

And when love, actually, isn't anything that it used to be...I feel like I've gone crazy.

To have faith that butterflies may signify all that can only be revealed in each other's eyes, for these windows to the soul hold no prejudice for whom they leave exposed. So, I plead for them to let me know that the feeling is mutual.

I mean, it's already so hard to communicate in this breathless state that you I give pause to let our eyes to the talking.

Still...I refuse to settle.

To settle for a notion in my pants that speaks of lust to pass for love.

To settle for falling in love with the ideal of what one "could be" rather than who they really are.

I refuse to settle.

And I refuse to give in & give up the search for that true connection...but that's just me.

And upon further inspection it's as clear as day to see...that I'm just like any ordinary hopeless romantic.