"That’s me alright. But me gone mad."- Vincent van Gogh
Paul Gauguin, January -- February 1903
Take me to the graying place that fills the hole
And light, she enters but could never shine as bright as
lead that poisons in your throat
and lives within the paint of your sky
Cry the tears, which never seem to fall
I lay deaf to your voice now; I never knew you called
But I instead see your voice
Hear You scream with each stroke
Manacles that bind you to frozen grounds
In the vein of angels conquered
From on high but then suddenly as lightning
Cast below the
Church hills that know no God
Paul Gauguin, January -- February 1903
Take me to the graying place that fills the hole
And light, she enters but could never shine as bright as
lead that poisons in your throat
and lives within the paint of your sky
Cry the tears, which never seem to fall
I lay deaf to your voice now; I never knew you called
But I instead see your voice
Hear You scream with each stroke
Manacles that bind you to frozen grounds
In the vein of angels conquered
From on high but then suddenly as lightning
Cast below the
Church hills that know no God
dream no real dreams
Below hell, what is worse than hell?
Hope and passion, which floats suspended midair
Without suspense, you should rather know Satan
I knock but know you will never answer
You can’t
I wait
You are the product of trappings
within the little yellow house
My tears they come all too easily now
I could never understand what to do
Little ol’ me as helpless and vulnerable a lamb
as you are
Tucked silently away inside gray matter
Turning rapidly, rapidly turning
Black
All without explanation
All without warning
That evil disease that eats away at the mind
Of every life changing artist
Sadness and cruelty cancer dancing cheek to cheek with
Serapes while Apep waits to swallow your scream
For its own nourishment- the thing that eats even your soul
Yet still hungers and suddenly, you are gone
You are nothing
And my dear sister
And no one will know that you ever lived
Your very existence diminished to sound and curtail
Fumes… that murder slowly
I know
I know the truth because I am just like you
There lives within the artist
An inner homelessness
It limits our true individual bonding with others
Only to ourselves
Alien to human love and connection
Strangers within the walls of our little yellow house
So that we may grow closer to God
And what we create becomes spiritual made ales (a flesh)
It’s the only time we are whole
The only time loneliness subsides
I am nothing without the gift, which God gives
You are nothing without this passion
To which God both blesses… and curses you
My dear love…
I blow kisses that turn to almond blossom
They land on thorny earth
and
Our hearts- they break without promise
and
No one will ever even know we were sound
And fumes
And names pronounced by the whisper of trees
And the sound of belly’s that scrape ground
Behind the heels of Eden exiles
Below hell, what is worse than hell?
Hope and passion, which floats suspended midair
Without suspense, you should rather know Satan
I knock but know you will never answer
You can’t
I wait
You are the product of trappings
within the little yellow house
My tears they come all too easily now
I could never understand what to do
Little ol’ me as helpless and vulnerable a lamb
as you are
Tucked silently away inside gray matter
Turning rapidly, rapidly turning
Black
All without explanation
All without warning
That evil disease that eats away at the mind
Of every life changing artist
Sadness and cruelty cancer dancing cheek to cheek with
Serapes while Apep waits to swallow your scream
For its own nourishment- the thing that eats even your soul
Yet still hungers and suddenly, you are gone
You are nothing
And my dear sister
And no one will know that you ever lived
Your very existence diminished to sound and curtail
Fumes… that murder slowly
I know
I know the truth because I am just like you
There lives within the artist
An inner homelessness
It limits our true individual bonding with others
Only to ourselves
Alien to human love and connection
Strangers within the walls of our little yellow house
So that we may grow closer to God
And what we create becomes spiritual made ales (a flesh)
It’s the only time we are whole
The only time loneliness subsides
I am nothing without the gift, which God gives
You are nothing without this passion
To which God both blesses… and curses you
My dear love…
I blow kisses that turn to almond blossom
They land on thorny earth
and
Our hearts- they break without promise
and
No one will ever even know we were sound
And fumes
And names pronounced by the whisper of trees
And the sound of belly’s that scrape ground
Behind the heels of Eden exiles
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