When it’s time to make art, I feel…
what’s the freakin’ point?
and
who the F cares?
and
I suck anyway so…
and
I’ll never make money at it
and
when I tell people that half my day is dedicated
to making art, they look at me like
“poor selfish b–tch, she thinks her hobby has meaning”
and
EVEN THOUGH I’M SUPER SUCCESSFUL
I can’t help but wonder if
I’m just not good enough
and
by the way
I’m tired
middle aged
ugly
dumb
whiny
selfish
and
PROLIFIC!!
OH, did I mention I’m prolific??
I am.
I perform, dance, write, sing, teach, and eXplode
with image, movement, poetry rather constantly
find sideways ways of seeing playing
at the dinner table
make noise, then hand gestures, faces, sing long sooooouuunnnnddds
But art seems to have stopped breathing
now you have to DO something with it
you can’t let it be
you have to PROVE it’s viable
by sucking it through a straw and then spitting it onto a canvas
in front of the paparazzi
thanks main stream culture, you really make me want
to be radical
speak out, tell it like I see it, be me, live/feel outside the box
go WILD and PUSH the edges of what we all think of as REALITY
NOT!!!!
thanks for boxing all my dreams in plastic
killing off children’s tiny shoots of imagination
with technological death spells
thanks for asking me to work for the man
until I’m retired and then hate myself
for having wasted my life
NICE ONE
Being numb sure makes a gal feel sexy
creative
one of a kind
I want to finish this poem
but I’m too
depressed
fat
hairy
smelly
and
alone
Gutsy Healing 