Monthly Archives: April 2013

On a Little Bit Of a Break, But Not For Long

You may have noticed that my usual daily posts have been lacking of late, apologies but a constant barrage of rejections in writing will do that to a creative mind.  This is just a heads up that I will be on hiatus for a couple of weeks but hopefully returning with a fresh mind and perspective, I intend to find some way of bringing my mind back from the black gap of no inspiration.  I will see all of you lovely people of the other side, where with any luck, I will find a great many more ideas and faith in self.  I have never stopped writing for long in my life, this is simply another break so as to re-light the already present flame into a bonfire of creation.  The irony in all of this?  This, right now, is my 100th post on my blog, so there you go.
Have a look around here, I will be back shortly, but I am sure many of you haven’t seen a good deal of my earlier stuff that I initially posted when starting out so flip through the archives on the right hand side there.  Some of my new writing will be going up over at Guerrilla Graffiti Magazine regularly also.

See you guys around the first of May, or if the Gods of Creative Minds allow, sooner.
Oh and thanks for checking in, I see you all coming back to look for new stuff often and that makes me want to write, I’ve just got to make it good.

Lisa

Art In Soul

I’m touching the multiple dimensions of Pollock
With my fingertips and palms
And hesitating to look directly
At the images pressed together by Picasso
David is laying down the mythical movements
Which grasp love with an eager heart

I am wondering where I find Da Vinci’s inventions
All sketches and darlings in flight
I have a need to watch the shadows of Renoir
Just so I can I understand shape, shift and stature
There is a gradual transcending nature to Monet’s bridge
As the ages and his eyes fade, so do the lines of necessity

I feel my mind expanding and flooding with Dali
And his obsession over self-love and third party
I wonder if Warhol wishes away grand detail
In favour of colour cleanse because it is less divine
I think if everyone would look at the luscious bottoms of Rubens’ sweethearts
Opinions of beauty would be for the better

For the art in my mind
Is the art in my soul
And takes on the dimension
I feel in my heart

Isn’t that exactly what art is?

Heart Pulp

Tonight I can’t do this rack up, repeat, recall
This fight over sides and up highways
Navigating through islands of hell and fortune
Just to remain in the same place
The same bed
The same space
Where we always are
Sometimes when I imagine the person you see
It’s horrendous
It’s horrible
And I hate to think that’s me
Because it is not
It is the person you are afraid of becoming

Too late
He’s here

And he is wearing your skin
Talking with your voice and glaring opinions
Taking my heart with wide grip fist
Distorting it like fruit pulp
Against hardened hand and unforgiving force
There it goes
There I am
There is my love
In unrecognisable pieces where our feet tread
The path I’d wish you would use
To get away from me

Ever So Slight Obsession

I am burrowing in your grey matter
Getting stuck under your skin
I’m looking for paths of memories
To insinuate myself in

I am finding myself following
Every inch of your devilish ghost
In anticipation of the outward signs
That I managed to find a host

I am figuring out where to lay
My ideas of eggs within your skull
So that when you think of certain things
You envision me as well

I am waiting upon the moment
You will want me too
Then I’ll take your heart and soul
A bury them from view

Nights’ Mistakes

Nights in that car
Racing to the seaside
Only to hear the waves crash
In midnights black blood of darkness
And we would listen to guitar
And hopeful dreams
On the tape player
And remember that we were not who we said we were
And you weren’t supposed to be here
And I shouldn’t have come
Because someone was waiting for us
Somewhere

The coffee we sampled was bad,
The company laden with mistakes,
And our history was already made
By our best intentions.
There was no resurrection required
In those tired nights
Of long talks
Wistful thoughts
Of everything beyond our control.
In another life we would be kin
Blood becoming thicker than water,
Our transparent circulation
More than just memories.

You were so much,
But a good deal less
There was no romance
Just a solemn vow
To protect and uphold the hands of fate
Which brought us together
And must keep us apart
For our own good.