a painting

today i worked on a painting. it is big and strong. and everyone thinks it is pretty. the secret is, it is a part two to a painting i did years ago. this piece i love, but have not shown it to many. when i was looking at this piece last year i wrote a poem for my father. he will never see it. because he has asked me not to write like that anymore. i use to write like that all the time. i like writing like that. and painting like that. to me they are as beautiful as the ones that show and sell.
if you click on the picture you can zoom in to see all the details. try to read the cut outs. there is an old madonna song called bad girl. that i lstened to as i made this piece. i listened to it again as i wrote the poem.

 Bad girl

drunk by six

kissing some kind of stranger's lips

somked too many cigarettes today

i'm not happy when i act this way

Listen Father



(Papa Don’t Preach I’m In Trouble deep…)



I wasn’t at the

crack house

Crystal den

to get high

I was there to get laid

And those speedy mother fuckers

Can go all night and not cum

You willing

Dear old Dad

You willing to follow me down

To the drown

THIS is where your father took me

As he tricked me out into the world of slutdom

With each boozy secret visit he made upon my body

Until I learned too late that I had a taste

For it

His cock

After him any

Cockle doodle do

Cock hold dude will do

You willing

Daddy dear to take on my pain

Since you demanded that I live through this

Chin up stoic

I stand

In grand denial

Dressed up like a nun in your love

Never speaking of my war within

My triumphs over prostitution

Only dipping me toe into porn and not jumping all the way in

But not for the reasons you think

Because I saw the stamina of Jenna

and knew

I had to get stronger to make it in this world

Because the world is not what you said it was

I can take the grit and the grime

The lies and the crime

Where is the grandiose culture of my birth

Where is this myth of family

It does not lie within my skin

What rest there

Are fingerprints bruising the memory of

Childhood and love and tender touch

Can you follow me to where

This rough wind blows

Can you keep up

Not with the Joneses

But the true tale of me

Where I was all that time

When you were not around

I dare you to

Follow the leader

We shall play

And I’ll whisper

That I still love you

And forgive your refusal to apologize

For the chaos created

While you tried to change the world for the better

For the destruction of my mother

And the hurt inflicted upon my brother

I forgive you

For putting me on a pedestal

And then leaving me trapped up there alone

Vulnerable to those birds of prey

I forgive you even though I do not believe you will forgive me

For being ruined by him and all the others that followed.

You will never know of those who tamed my wild heart and ways

You will never know of the demons I no longer have to battle

In order to stay alive

You may never understand the price of my peace

But no matter

Dad

I won’t go to the crack house

Crystal den

This time I will not feed my sickness

But my soul

You’ll just never know difference

No different

Than you were before

survivor of shame

emotions frozen
fixed in a tundra

i am a poet and painter
i am also trudging through a painful process called recovery
i have been trying to recover from incest.
currently i am working through the book The Courage to Heal
i have tried to deal with it before, without a good therapist
at times i was ok, able to be comfortable in my openess
others... well... a whisper of self
Tapestry was my soul brother. like a twin who not only could hear me but feel me as well. in the 90's we made alot of art together and pushed ourselves to soul spelunk and bring the truth in everything we created. i had no fear back then because we explored our spirituality and came to a sense of home in Yemaya, Maat and Bast

he believed in my quest and supported the work i was doing. when i got lost he would find me and help me back again. i was creating poetry that really moved me and felt good saying out loud September 10th 2001 he died. he was HIV postive, and when he got pnemonia while traveling he could not recover. he did die in the arms of his true love holding the hand of his mother. he did not pass over alone like some of our friends. i had been trying to get there, his bedside, as others were too. and the next day was 911 so i could not fly to reach him and be there to spread his ashes. that hurt so much i almost gave up. but i knew if he were still here he would push me dig deep and carry on.

i do have other soul brothers. they knew and loved Tapestry too. and they have held my hand and encouraged to finish what i started. in 2003 i was all set and ready, expressing myself freely when my family said i'll lose them if i did not stop airing dirty laundry. so i stopped. and fell apart. and got back up again and fell apart and got back up until last saturday. when another artist pointed out that i really need to be honest. that i do not have to keep those poems secret and not share that art work that upsets them so much.

so here it goes

some artwork

and  a poem

I lay this down

I lay this down

i confess this to my mother

the one that breathes the sea

the one true calling for me

I want to shift this burden off my back

Been carrying it for so long

Too long

Been messing around in polluted pools

Been dragging myself way down

Trying to save my family name/tree

But I feel lynched on that branch of incest

Can I grow from coral instead?

Can I cut these ties that bind

I feel like I am choking on that thread

Shackled with shame

I fight this fight once again

Stooped shoulders

I let the pain slide to the floor

Weak and bleary eyed

I can’t cry no more

I try to forgive them

Even if I can’t forget

I forgive them

As I scream out my regret

Alone at the shore I pray that she can hear me

The loose scent in the trade winds assures

My heart

And so

Up from the dark ocean floor

I grow