Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

I dove headfirst into the ocean of discontentment
not knowing the depth of the water, where
the rocks were, knowing nothing of the rip tides

there were no triangular flags of any color,
no lifeguards on duty, this impulse
did not originate in the "sanity" of my father

No, it was born in the quiet agitation of resistance
the kind that boils like magma below the surface
of containment, exasperating the rubberneckers

that love to giggle and gawk at your "inabilities"
to stay on the path to heaven,as it was laid out for you
like the clothes on your bed , to wear to St. Dominic's mass

the stones were compacted, set in trounced earth
the path illuminated in the turbulent sky of adolescence
by unchallenged traditions that bind the hands

this bizarre conciseness before your spirit was awakened
before you recognized yourself in photographs
before you ever said the word, No

So why this aversion to step inside the universal pair of shoes
one size fits all, it was always that way, this climb
to the top of the highest rock, the plunge

into the minority pool, I'm certainly
not talking about hell here
I'm merely talking about the struggle

from birth to authenticity

One smart piece o' writing. I loved the flow and the story you ended "just right"... authenticity is a gift one mustn't ever lose.

Cheers and Salud to you, amigo... keep the flow in your glow.

thanx brother ...appreciate the kind words of encouragement...

funny how we come in with such an open mind, and then the clock starts ticking and Dualities multiply, and ...

random quote of the day:

From the child of five to myself is but a step. But
from the new-bom baby to the child of five is an
appalling distance.
— Leo Tolstoi

nice work bro.