Own Me
Oh, enticing world! Colour, composition, balance and voice hold the audience of undertones captive. Covers pulled loose expose
Life’s naked enchantresses carrying works by the artist of Tomorrows.
Creations of subtle beauty open their allure, calling wildness leaning against walls of indifference to the performance. Collector’s value decides the price, and skilled auctioneers wielding gavels tuned to the buyer’s heartstrings move these creations to their fortunate owners.
The only voice in the room is that of the artist, the only sound the report of the world’s muzzled gavel.
Beauty toned with nuances of sorrow, suffering and calamity pokes its finger in a compassionate eye, drawing tears of bent sensation. The contents of the frame are mercurial; distant voices constantly move new vistas to the voyeur and they pause only long enough to change to the following scene, the next work of art.
“Ladies and gentlemen, what am I offered for …
the beggar’s ragged smile…
a stretchered war casualty’s wave …
the lover’s finger moving to an unaware cheek …
a bee testing the contents of an imminent drinker’s beer …
the graceful butterfly teetering on the lipsticked rim of a coffee cup …
a scolded child somehow squeezing magic tears from ducted wells of laughter …
the soaked skin of a pedestrian caught in traffic evoking ridges, rivulets and termite mounds …
… are there any takers? Any at all? Ladies and gentlemen, isn’t there anyone … anyone?”
And the catatonic watch as the world spins past flashing its splendour, mirth and tears—light with shades of darkness—without arousing even the slightest flicker.
The art collection of a brain that processes more than 80 million pieces of information per second is infinite, if we only pause long enough.
Making Lists
I wake up scribbling.
and I make lists.
Buy coffee (caffeine addiction requires its regular fix)
Multivitamins (supplement “forgot to eat” meals)
Get eyes tested (close the distance between thoughts words and screen)
Ibuprofen (be still, complaining vertebrae)
Remember to breathe (instruction? Poem? Why not both?)
Need to throw things
… away?
Where?
What?
Words at walls?
Maybe they land in profound order …
… maybe earwigs have ears … or wigs … and elephants sleep in nests…
Take out garbage – define garbage.
Too many definite articles? Too many tenses? Too many anything…
Then I run out of space
but don’t want to turn the page.
Me and I think tanks –
though mostly amusing
always enlightening
mind in constant all-where drive
the body a passenger.
Jane Olivier
Image 1: Blurred abstract background via Shutterstock
