Wednesday, October 16, 2013

My Hunger, Still and All, Remains

I am hard-pressed
to find words
adequate and intelligent
that can belie How
this came to be

Not able to provide
for myself,
me and mine,
to pull my weight
to maintain
let alone prosper

And I will stuff myself
indulge in treats
eat inappropriate items
and be willful against
your prying
    judging
        patronizing
        eyes
in line behind me
driving past the food bank
seeing me enter the food stamps office

I will edit my donations box
as I see fit
because it is my right
(one of the few I seem to have left)
and I will not
eat Vienna sausages or
sloppy joes
or clumped processed cheese
or...
 
I will go hungry first--
rest assured--
because standards and taste buds
have not yet been taken
and will not be relinquished...
I am still me,
and preference
is nearly all I can preserve...
it is how we persevere

My dignity is not an acceptable trade
for your pious charity

Yes, pride
is still part of my repertoire.
and there is no shame in that,
nor any apology due nor
forthcoming
 
I have yet to lose
or give away self-respect
no matter the circumstance
and still
my particularness
is not invitation
for you to judge me

Say what you will
when my back is turned,
but to my face
it is "How do, Mr. Mann, sir."

Your discards and
nearly-outdated, feel-good project
remnants
already clog my craw and innards
alongside
worry and
   humiliation and
       terror and
        yes, by lack-of-god,
    Resentments

How can it have come to this?
I who had so much
did so well
was held in such esteem?

Crashed and crushed
Heart-broken and abandoned
Mood-altered and weakened
Rolled over and
at this juncture,
older
yet not wiser...yet

They don't tell you
what can happen,
in time.
Nor teach you How
simply to Survive
nor prepare you
nor strengthen you;
but no complaints
since 'trial by fire'
is a masterful
performance inducer
I am hungry
(I hunger)
I am alone
(and deeply lonely)
I am discouraged
(I tire in my soul)
My world for the merest
of human contact
 
I have a void that needs filling

I cannot provide
I cannot spy
an end in sight
I worry for longevity
and plenitude
and endurance

What I want is not here
What my body needs is not here
Sustenance is barely here
and oh, what a lofty price was attached
I engage
  I engorge
   I feast
       to quell the ache

I have a void that needs filling

No more friendships
No more relations
No one tells you how
   much they take
All are the heroes
on their own stage

I have a void needs filling

This condition
life
which engulfs us all,
only in different manner
and course

I have a void needs filling

Friday, June 21, 2013

Poised


There is no good to come

from this thing that I would do

and the fact that it is habit

(my classic old go-to)

is no longer sufficient reason

to engage in or be drawn to

***

Thursday, May 16, 2013

Thursday, April 25, 2013

Train's A-Comin'

Save me truly,
 
from mortal sin--

I can feel it

creeping in...

'bout to hurt

someone tonight;

I'm still wrapped up

but it ain't tight.
 
You're pushing me--
 
all in my face--
 
really need my zone,
 
my space...
 
If I have to choose
 
I fear you'll lose;
 
if it comes to
 
'me or you--
 
you must decide,'
 
I hate to tell ya--
 
it'll be homicide.
 

Monday, April 15, 2013

Art, Art Everywhere, And All the Drops to Drink!



What I love about art is that it changes the world.

The simplest of acts can bring about new thought and new
response and new ideas where they didn't exist previously.

Let's say I put a wildly colored bird house that I painted
into my yard, and everyone that drives by sees it proudly
displayed. Now, many will say "That's an eyesore," or
"Wow that sure is ugly." Still others will complain that
"That is most assuredly NOT how a birdhouse is supposed
to look!"


But some will say "My word how pretty!"

Others will say "Huh. I never saw anything like that!"

Still others will say
"It would have never occurred to me to do that."

And others will think
"No one told me I could paint it how I wanted!"

Regardless of how they respond, they are responding
to something that didn't exist-- forced to consider
something they hadn't anticipated. So all responses
are valid, and any response is mission accomplished.

The viewer's world has been entered by a contrary thought
that goes against the predictable every day recurrence
of the 'same old.' Newness emerges, and with it responses
that could not have occurred without something new.

Stimulation.
Birth.
Controversy.
Questioning.

The act itself may not be popular or understood or
fully formed or attractive. That's unimportant.

The act of creation itself is sexy;

Expanding consciousness.
Exploding restrictions.
Imparting philosophy.
Interpreting the world.
Rebelling against the drab and the mundane.


The birth of ideas, the birth of new points of view, the
solidifying of concepts and opinions, the inspiration to
dare, the solidarity of knowing you are not alone in an
askew view, the challenge to question and create and
invent for yourself.

Whether it's one person or millions, an artist makes
their mark on the world by creating something that
creates a ripple effect, ever growing outward. When
a person in transformed, they carry the changed view
with them to interact with every person they meet,
and so on....


Social scientists will tell you that the best means of
finding a solution to a problem is to have many
different sets of eyes looking at it and seeing it from
new POVs that have not commented on it before.

That's how you get outside of ruts. That's how you
innovate. That's when insight and inspiration occurs.

Thinking outside the box, going against the grain is how
we transform and progress.


*********************************************

Tuesday, March 26, 2013

New DC Creations: Golden Eagle 2


This is a sketch I did for a retroactively added
DC Comics character for some fan fiction
I'm doing (Well, honestly, it was originally a
character I created for a proposal to DC for
a 'Titans West' series, which was soundly rejected
out of hand, but, moot point since
that world is gone now!)

She's a fellow orphan friend of Charlie's that
was taken in by the Amazons on Paradise Island
and is a surrogate sister of the original Golden
Eagle, merging his costume theme with Amazonian
weaponry and armor! (Yes--story there!)
 (In this world, the original was never killed
and never an evil alien spy, etc. Blurg!)

For more on the DC Retro Project (DC '78)

art copyright 2013 Robert Sayre II

Monday, March 25, 2013

Stuck in the Middle With Eww!



I am to the point
    (have I been here before?)
of reduction

I am now
but reduced to...

unknown;
         simply
                    something less than...
different from
what was

No longer is there
even a point of reference

so much disappointment--
      so much of me
               dissipated

all good extracted
   boiled off
      in rages, orgasms, loving expressions
and the like
(Thumbs up!)

I watch some images
like old movies
        easy and natural,
 A smile beckons
         without prompting
....their cascade familiar enough
to draw forth longing

Once, we--
      for there were once others,
         like me, bonded together,
            storm-sheltered
               and similarity-supported,
     greater
         than our mere components...

We held sessions
     akin to salons,
speaking effortlessly of philosophy,
    hands gravitating to belt buckles
         and bra straps
              effortlessly,
                    thoughtlessly

We conjured mystery
      (where perhaps none existed)
and spoke of cosmos
   and romance
      and humanity
   as well as comics and cops and cocks

(Lest you think us highbrow
   when even at our most pretentious
       we knew that to be a lie!)

Now
   I am surrounded;

       by talk of dinner plans
        and medicine-taking
           and neighbors' comings and goings,
endless recycled unpleasantries,
    and only more of same
       to look forward to

You become the character
     of those you
          surround yourself with
(funny how close 'surround'
     and 'surrender' seem)
    
Unflatteringly enough,
      unsatisfyingly enough,
and,
    as me,
unchanging.

Saturday, March 9, 2013

Pariah Be A Gift

"Pariah be a Gift"
(On Getting by in the Deep South on Bad Days
and
The Past Ain't All That Diff'rnet from What We Gots Now)

Ain't nowhere I belong
Nor nobody who own me
Mean to say, nobody who know me
Seem to be the same thing
least as I can tell

Used to think
that all was just me
but the more folks I see
the more I reckon
it's all our lot

People's hushed mouthing,
always staring, finger waggin,
no chance to raise up--
nobody seem to notice you--
at the same time!

But all that there
gots a tendency to be
something else all together
from what folks means it to be

Dough gotta get beat
'fore it can rise
(the best bread ta me
is hard on the outside
soft on the ins)
Clay gotta burn
'fore that pot harden
People gotta be broke
to put themselves together

T'aint right nor wrong
nor'n  fair ors unfair
jus' is the way it is
flowing and sliding
unending

Bein' poor don't scare me
and not embarrassed by it none
either
Fat, ugly to other'ins, hungry
all that I gots a handle on

I is this here
I ain't dem
but I is me
Dis what I am
That's good enough fer me
an' others
ain't to be worried over

Cuz there ain't nowhere I belong
nor no one who own me

I is the one avoided
and disrespect like
and I think very much
I prefer it dat way

***