Give me the heat that rises out
A tired smile grows to full
Our bones a resonant hum
A quick quiet heartbeat
When you are the world entire
Am but sunshine
Dappling your eyes
Life is a interesting place. In the last week I’ve been forced to confront some things. Basically, I have never considered myself to be attractive. If someone is with me I assume it is because of my personality or my art or my dominance. I assume that my physicality enters into it lightly. I’m tall. I’m dark. Two out of three right?
But then someone called me fucking beautiful. Those were her words. I didn’t trust them. I don’t trust compliments, mostly. So I asked someone who would know. A good friend who used to be more than that. I asked her and she said yeah, I can say that you are fucking beautiful and she got into specifics. Keeping in mind I told her it was in reference to me physically not emotionally, intellectually, or artistically. She got specific and I went… Oh.
Huh. I don’t think of myself in those terms. I’ve felt a lot of rejection based on the physical. And I internalized it. So I never concentrated on it. I’ve worked on my emotions and my art and expanded my experience.
And I’ve been told I have a good voice and I thought that’s just how my recorded voice sounds. But I asked people who know me in person and apparently, soothing and darkly heavy was the conclusion. So now I have to, if I trust these opinions, and I do. I have to incorporate that truth into my self image. And it’s honestly a bit freeing.
Now, I’m not perfect so it’s not like knowing there are very attractive people who find me attractive is going to go to my head but it’s nice to know.
A lifetime of thinking one way gets blown out of the water in one short week. Life, it’s a funny old thing.
I have been thinking. Dangerous.
I find that I regard myself as a ugly man. Is it true? I don’t know. No one has ever said I was handsome. The most I’ve gotten is “I like your hair.” It seems a silly thing to think about. I know that I am well regarded by ex lovers and submissives. But that could be personality or skill. I don’t often think about physical appearance. I do for my lovers, generally to convince them of how beautiful they are, when they don’t see themselves that way. Perhaps how I see myself is why I try to hold up a mirror of my heart, to show them how beautiful they are.
I see myself as powerful, as intelligent, as learned and learning, as many things. But never pretty, never handsome.
I’ve always said that the early morning is when our hearts are most vulnerable. Both to others and to ourselves, sometimes that leads to epiphany. Sometimes to dark roads.
PS: Let me pose this question. How often do you praise the men in your lives. How often do you say “your hair looks good today?”, or I like that color on you, it brings out your eyes, or any such complement? Because I’ll tell you, in my experience it’s never. And all the men I know (who aren’t with me, mind), receive no such compliment as well. I don’t know if it effects them as it effects me. I receive a few regarding my intelligence, and I thank you. I receive some for my ability, and I thank you.
Of such individual and societal pressures are we shaped. And just think, if they have never heard such a compliment and you are sincere, just think of the impact it will have.
When we reduce other people to sensation
to what makes us feel good
we reduce our own humanity
We may be just puzzle pieces
lost and alone
looking for where we fit
but that’s no reason
to slip in-to, hedonistic glut
This is not a rant against pleasure but rather one against taking
we’ve been fucking so long we forgot about love making
I’m not saying that pure pleasure in the moment is wrong but most days it does not feel right
And when we become empty for so long we look for anything to fill us
to make us feel accepted
Because we have forgotten what being loved felt like
Act in the service of love and painful as the mounting losses may be
you’ll always be free
of regret at least
There may not be a heaven
but there is surely a hell
because we create it here in our ongoing search for a pleasure that fills us
Our minds should be our faiths
we’re always looking for a way out when we should be following the path in
We take what we want
but taking makes wanting
until we fill ourselves with Prada and prizes
flush with money we chase the one dragon we know we can catch and that feeling fills us up for a time
but it’s still there that ache to be full on waking
that second time is never as real as the first
we become trapped in a hell of our making.
Sex, drugs, and loneliness
dragging down our dreamers all looking for connection but afraid to commit to connect.
We’re above such things
we can disconnect sex from love
free from all rules
but rules are not restriction.
Rules are the freedom to know where the lines are
so you know what you are doing when you cross them
Then it’s three AM and who is this next to me
were they wanting connection or just a slim moment of shared addiction.
Am I the stranger for wanting breakfast?
I saw your beauty
let it sink into my heart
then look away
because while you walk as art
you are not owned by anyone but yourself
I won’t be the one to posses you with my eyes
But I’ll carry that look and that moment for all of my days
And I’ll hope you carry me with you
Waves of fire
Undulating in the dying light of day
… Then fade
uncertain, a flower faces the moon
glorious, perfection in the flaws
strive to give space
step to, be free
the breeze of the summer wind
welcomes her home
I improvise, I don’t plan except in the broadest of strokes. I taste how the moment feels. I ask myself which action do I desire most, which scares me. If an action would hurt someone I care for, I weigh the consequences if I don’t take it. There are many factors. But it’s like a spinning top. You can choose when, where, how much force. You can setup perfectly and it can still go awry. It is always the factor you haven’t planned for, the unknown or the ones out of your control. So perfection is not attainable. But you can learn to improvise. To dance with the flow of the world. At the end of the day, you can only hope that you lived as beautifully, as open, as you could. That your words, your actions touched a life spinning by and made it better.
in the smallest turning leaf
the slightest turn of light
the softest intake of breathe
the flame dancing
the twist of the wrist
the curve of the neck
the play of shadow across the floor
It is in the quiet heartbeat and
arpeggios of the violin
It is in the pain of heartbreak and the dying breathe
Why is the portrayal of the ideal life so bland? Go to college, get a career, find a spouse, get married, live in a house with the character of a showroom, be happy but not too happy, love but do so quietly, steady, have a child, foster that child’s realistic hopes, child repeats the cycle, in middle age go to Bali and find that life is good and find that life is worth the sacrifices.
It is so bland. If this is what you want then fine, do as you want. I would normally say do as you desire but can someone living this way have desires? The most exciting thing in their lives is that fantasy or that illicit affair. I suppose that’s judgemental.
Give me fire and passion. Love messy and sweet and out loud. Unabashed, unafraid. Find art in life, find beauty in the world. Live for your friends, enjoy the journey not the destination. Listen to music, make your own. Sing even if you are terrible at it. Find the people who resonate, dance and scream. Be present in the moment, feel the world around you. Break free from all confinement, make love, have sex, drink and eat. Have rules but make them your own, make them be based in the things most important to you. Will you change the world from unrepentant same to multicolor? A life affected. Be sad, be angry but move forward. The happy times flow faster, let the bad times go by too. And always, always seek. Be it love or beauty, your passion or your dreams. We have no choice but to travel forward into the future, but we can choose how we step.