Glass Staircase: October 2010

Forever. Wonder.

The new colloquial is what they call me

Or what they should call me

But I

I am an artist

An artist of inspiration

An artist of words

An artist of life

An artist of you

I am perfection because I can’t be found

The night time falls and the moon

It lights up the sky

But we still can’t see

The darkness

We can’t see like an African

Deep in the darkness

We can’t see

But he is there

Naked

Raw

Powerful

He is us

He is you

He is me

He is we

He is what we call upon

On those days when we feel like

We’re crazy for being us

On those days

We just say

“Fuck it,

I don’t want to be here anymore”

And thus

I’ll never even the score of the ones

Who hate

Forever unequal

Forever loved

Ungrateful

Greedy

Lustful

Forever happy

But also

Forever suicidal

In the hands of

This Planet

Will be forever round

Forever unbalanced

Forever unfair

Forever uncaring

And we are

Forever. Wonder.

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Trees standing still like porcelain monks on the deepest hill
(Click click)
My camera goes blink
The calm ocean scenery stands upright
Like wooden boardwalks in my sight
(Click click)
My camera goes blink
In the directions given by pale kindness
Pure happiness of a healing heart
Her beautiful skin
Distant shouts of thick flesh inhabit the air
Of a warm summer day reminiscent of lemon scent
She asked to take my photo
With her facial expressions
Nearly impossible to say no
(Click click)
Her camera goes blink

© 2010 Anthony Desmond Scott. All Rights Reserved.

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Lovers

I swear the lovers at the end of summer

Told me this was only a phase

That could give me a clue

As to what a culture shock would do….

The ocean of purple, blue, & yellow flags

Wave over lush mountain sides

Bright enough for nearsighted view

Baby coo’s & little footsteps

Fill the atmosphere with smiles so wide

Happiness reflects against our teeth

Heart-shaped balloons float across our eyes

By surprise

The bursting of one caused a movement

Dancers danced

Light shined

Singers sang

The sound of music rang

The strumming of memories made

The road so easy to walk

The constant wave of notes

Made our words so easy to speak

I shed those old bad habits

All my time spent looking upon others in peace

Swordfish used as daggers

No longer sharp

Allowed to lay in my nest

Giving me a safe home to rest

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Short. Sweet. Success.

Circles of bliss surround the garden of rapture

Encapsulated in an asylum

Focused on the center of a woman’s guarder

Living on excuses

Eating cigarette ash

Lasciviously kissing the ass of who’s in charge

She appeared like a nobody

She appeared like a phenomena.

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If Hell Were An Ocean

Attacking canvas

Creating a Lord for everyone to see

Plain white T shirts float over sweetwaters

Education sinks into red sea

The bottom where I lay me

The top where I can’t see

There’s no middle; I can’t be

Trapped in homemade hell

Feeling the effects from which I fell

Heartbroken

No food to sell

Lost in transition plagued by inhibition

Fingers keep sliding

Emotions keep burning

Knives kept stabbing

Silver kept shining

Bloody ears still ring

I can’t hear the song I sing

Curtains never shut

Patient strings cut

Two-faced feet don’t sit

Conscience full of shit

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Grandiose

A thorne without a stem

A rose without petals

Mass replacing muscle in the calves of dishonor

Drugs injected into adolescent dreams

Patience given to color-blind bulls

But everyone’s still waving red flags

Not knowing it means surrender

Black backs & blue eyes unmatched

By steps of the paralyzed

Like the memorized address of a house

That’s not a home.

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Friday, October 29, 2010

Forever. Wonder.

Camera

Lovers

Short. Sweet. Success.

If Hell Were An Ocean

Grandiose