Write On, Poet

You are from so many different places that I cannot begin to think where to reach you. You are somewhere across the sea, on the other side of the pond, or on the opposite side of the world. You are living in different time zones and climates. You have been to places I have only read about, which is why I try to show you about my life.

Each day, I try to tell you a little more about me. I write to you about my place and my home and my commute to the City that never sleeps. I write to you because I want to tell you about the way my world looks to me. I want you to see this and feel it the way I do.

I have something here that I would like to share with you. I hope you like it because this is all I have. This is everything to me.
These words and the whiteness of the background on my computer screen is a canvas to me. This is my art.

I come here to tell you about the sunrise and the sunsets to paint a picture. Can you see it? Can you imagine me as I write and what I might look like as I reach out to you?
I want this to be as personal as possible and almost too raw and too bright, like the brilliance of the sun, which can be blinding but also so beautiful. I want to be powerful, just like you. I want to be beautiful and unafraid.

I am a fan of the streams of consciousness. And for now this is mine, speaking out to you. This is me calling out.
Do you read me?
Or wait —
Can you read me?

I want you to know about everything. I want to tell you about my ups and downs, falls, and recoveries. More than anything, I come to you because I need an escape sometimes.
And this is it for me.
This is the place.
I need a place like this one to turn off all the noise because life can be a pretty loud place to live.
Do you get this?

Don’t get me wrong, I like noise. I like the cheer of the crowd. I like the sound of the streets or the whirring of the cars on the highway. I like the sounds of music. I love the sound of laughter, especially the uncontrollable kind. This is the most wholesome of sounds where pretense is nonsense and all else is nonexistent. I like the sound of blues and jazz and the old house mixes that made us shake our bodies and dance until sunrise.
I like the quiet too. I can think here. And that’s where you come in and why I come here each day.

This is my way to squash all the static and calm the daily interference, which I believe is a distraction from Mother Earth and Her natural beauty. I am a fan of the world. I really am. I am a fan of everything and everyone.
I love people. I really do but they often disappoint me and fade from their potential, which has nothing to do with me. I guess I am only hopeful, which can be difficult at times. I am real. Flesh and bone. Heart and soul.

I know that wherever you are, there is something beautiful right outside your window. I wish I had a different view. I wish I could open a window and see different places.
I wish I could open the shades at my window and see the landscapes in places like Jaipur. I wonder what it looks like by the Viti Lake in Iceland. I know William Burroughs once told Jim Carroll about the Fjords. He told Carroll, “You need to see the Fjords before you die.”
I certainly don’t wanna die. I just want to open my window.
(Do you know what I mean?)

There are places that have an unmatchable beauty, which I get. But there are different kinds of “Beautiful” — and that’s right, I said “Beautiful” and not, “Beauty” .because this is not about grammar or the grammatically correct.
Poets have been disobeying these rules for a long time now and if I want to be my dream then it’s time I reach beyond the limitations of social acceptance and do as I dream.

No, today is about conformity. Today is about the need to disconnect from all the craziness around me. This is about the need to feel the warm sun on my face. I want to feel the wind through my hear.
This is about the idea of sitting on the beach on the other side of the world. This is about me and you and everyone that has ever meant anything to us, living at peace, smiling, and saying something like, “Ahh,” as we settle into the comfort of the sands.

There is beauty all over. There’s beauty in Harlem. There is beauty Downtown. There is beauty out east at Montauk Point, Long Island, Southampton, Bridgehampton or at the canal Shinecock.
I think of all places, the most beautiful place I have ever been is here with you. The reason for this is because there are no flaws here.
The critics come by. They say what they say and they leave their words and distractions. And sure there are flaws and errors, but we both know what we mean to each other. That’s why I think the critics can go to hell. What do they know? What have they done besides rip down the ideas we dream about?

Mainly the reason I come here is to learn how to decipher the difference between my anabolic and catabolic energy. The anabolic energy is best defined as energy that serves me. This is my fuel source. This is what empowers me and inspires me to move onward and forward towards my best possible future. This is the sunlight in my heart. This is a walk in a garden or a trip down memory lane that puts warmth in my heart. My anabolic energy is the source which leads me to my best possible self.

Catabolic energy is the opposite of this. These are the energies which drain me (like the critics and the bullies or the people that look to point out our flaws because they thrive on people’s mistakes).
Catabolic energy is the doubts and the fears, stress, intimidation, and the ideas of rejection, which is nothing more than a drain on my personal economy. This drains me and weighs me down. This is what keeps me from moving forward and onward.  The fight or flight is a necessary energy to survive but this is short-term energy. And me, I want something long-term and successful.
I come here to differentiate my view between necessary and unimportant. But more, I come here mostly because I am scared and looking to overcome the catabolic ideas that drag me backwards.
I am only a man. I am only human. And like anyone else in this crazy world, I need somewhere to go to make sense of it all.
That’s why I come here.
It’s to see you.

2 thoughts on “Write On, Poet

  1. Catabolic energy..that makes do much sense ..it wants to eat or destroy our joy truth zesr for life and passion. The warm sun is my go to for healing when inner or outer constrictiions abound…such a beautiful life affirming post…

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