Tagged: Max Nix
Poem about shutting up
There’s been ink in my veins from an early age
but it seems like it wasn’t meant to be
either I wasn’t meant for it or it wasn’t meant for me
I want to give it up
I want to do what you want me to
don’t know if you’re afraid of it,
or if it makes you not like me
I’m trying to give it up,
because I don’t want to lose you
but I swear God made me this way
so what am I supposed to do?
I’m haunted by the ghost of Tom Joad
I asked God to take me away from me.
to make me silent and submissive like Winston Smith at the end of 1984
only without having to face the rats or betray Julia first
I promise that tomorrow I will rejoin society
tomorrow I will teach
and enter grades
and discuss pedagogy, lessons and curricula
I promise that tomorrow I will lecture about the judicial branch
give instructions about content theme and genre
tomorrow I will coach and advise
about code and syntax and hypertext markup language
But today I am a painter
today I am a poet
today I am a theologian
a philosopher, a maladjusted malcontent
Today I am possessed by Jackson Pollack., Willem de Kooning, Claude Monet,
and maybe Achille-Claude Debussy too.
maybe too much coffee
maybe the holy spirit
or some spirit-animal
maybe just automatism
Or maybe, I’ve been possesed by the spirits of
and Hugo Ball
all having a ball with my basal ganglia
What rhymes with ganglia?
Galling gangly genitalia?
Damn. That was a lot of alliteration without actual profane explication!
Perhaps I am ready to return to convention, conformity and community already.
But the smell of turpentine
and the layers of oil, acrylic and gouache
that I extricated today
from my palette
like a paleontologist with a trowel
are so intoxicating.
Perhaps a few more minutes
in this other world
the one where I enjoy some espresso
with Vincent and Theo
and Frida and Diego
I promise, I’ll be me again