gotta have art

is this the real life,
is this just fantasy,
caught in a landslide,
no escape from reality,
open your eyes
look up to the skies and see
i'm just a poor boy,
i need no sympathy
because i'm easy come, easy go,
a little high, little low,
anyway the wind blows,
doesn't really matter to me,
to me

freddie mercury

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unseasonably warm day
for early march
80 degrees
with a slight wind
the clouds are stunning
all day
puffs of radial shapes
against a bright blue sky
sea gulls flock on the beach
of white sand
they frolic and bathe
in a stream
flowing back to the sea
immense sheet of glass
as far as the eye can see
reflecting the blue sky
powerful
unassuming
everlasting
everchanging

sush, baby and our lord
spent the day at the beach
at first the buddha was afraid of the sand
and could not move without falling down
but the master was soon off having fun
with buckets and shovels

me and the holy one
played with the tides
and got soaked
the world teacher was tired
and wanted to sit
but loved it very much

we stayed for sunset
the clouds became even more beautiful
with a dark, deep and rich red colors
lighting up wisps and puffs of clouds
far across the horizon
reflected in the water
in a sea of orange
blue and grey

raising your own child
and being very involved in their lives
is such an overwhelming
and life changing experience
you have no time to understand it
until you are dead
but then it’s a little late

a year later
and i am still in shock
i can’t believe my eyes
that such a creature
could emerge from nothing
life is a miracle indeed

like narcissus
who could not stop
staring at his own reflection
so too i cannot stop
staring at my own reflection
in the holy son

growing so fast
a year and a month
walks very well
runs a little
talks a lot
wish i knew what the buddha says
tries to communicate
for food, water, sleep
and for daddy
claps his hands
tries to stand
on everything
loves buttons
playing with boom box
opens and closes
cassette player, doors

we go outside
in the front yard
back yard
side walk
the master walks around
picking up leaves
sticks
rocks
old bits of food
tries to bite it all

we are attached
our savior and i
i rush home to see the annointed one
and our lord to my arms
i “love” his holiness
more than the buddha “loves” me

this god doesn’t love me
one bit
don’t even know what love is
don’t care to know
doesn’t like being trapped
in a hug
don’t know how to kiss
the master just is

the world teacher uses me
to solve problems
meet needs
pain
boredom
hunger
thirst
sleep
fear

i don’t care
that our lord doesn’t "love" me
i love his holiness anyways
why can’t i
treat everyone the same?

these days
i am doing some art
a little photography
writing a novel

sips of water
to a man
dying of thirst
for art
creativity
connection
to the universe

showing by example
that life is more
much more
than work
money
possessions

life
is also about self expression
finding one's voice
sharing oneself
with the world

busy in play
enjoying the day
a speck of sand
on a west coast beach
thoughtless for a moment
gone the next