What are you looking at?

What are you looking at?

The truth of me is not beautiful at all
It’s the story of so much blood, tears and mud
Seeping into crevices, drying out and cracking
Under a relentless radiant gaze
Rendering my skin transparent to the sun.

Look! You won’t find anything inside
It’s all out here in front of me. All of it.
The debris of inspecting and judging
And downcast eyes while turning away.

I’m too modest and too proud
For the mechanics and toil of beauty
Too tired of endless repetition
Stripping down to perfection
Carving and threshing and tweaking
Until we’re all wearing the same face
And my eyes have turned opaque.

Once I saw a young boy dance his vision.
Another time, you and I sat for hours together
Contemplating unity and the nature of water.
In that moment your life took form
As the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

Against a decoupage landscape of highlights and spotlights
Permanent looks of mild surprise and unfathomable ideals
Candid poses and so much inhumanly-toned skin;
Those magazine-TV-advertising-marketing
Members of the Brotherhood-of-Lies
Have arrived at an entirely different truth than mine.

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desert_sunrise

This is the second “Missive from the scrap heap”. It was written in response to a request a couple of days ago but it turned out to be inappropriate for that purpose. What is most interesting to me is how I experienced the idea of beauty 20 years ago compared to this surprising response to the idea of beauty now.

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Eclipse in Scorpio

Today, I have two posts that are essentially “Missives from the scrap heap”. They are both on the topic of beauty and they have both been rejected by their original audience. I’m publishing them now because they do in fact pass the secret “What is my truth” test, so I’m happy to reconsider them as – yet to fulfil their purpose or find their true home.

“Eclipse” is not meant to be about sex. So far that’s what everyone seems to think it’s about. These days I can take it on the chin and find new meanings from such contrasts between what I was thinking when I wrote and what the reader hears. It’s potentially where the magic lives. So in the spirit of – take it however you will – I set this baby free!

4th November 1994
Eclipse in Scorpio

There’s a waking dream
Dormant ’til I felt true
And now my lighter is out of gas.
Don’t smoke this dream.
But I want this to float away
Up high on the air
Leave me down here with the ash.
Too real, too real –
Find matches quickly!
I think it’s gone now.

I open my chest
Golden light rainbow brilliant colour
Streams out and hits you in the face.
Then I open my chest
It’s grey and dead
I’ve taken out all the good bits.

Death and life
I want my skin off
So we can touch bones
My muscles to shrivel
And peel away
My organs inside this
Unbidden fortress.

I’m trying to think of
Beautiful words to say next
But “touch me
Is all that comes to mind.

I don’t want to be clever,
Say the right things,
Do the right things,
Be what you want.

No clothes
No desires
No trimmings
No trappings
No wishes
No mercy
No needs

I want to shine on you for an instant

And you’ll leave an echo
And you’ll journey with me
And you won’t remember.

I wish I could paint this
I want you to know me.

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