POETRY: I’m an Artist

I’m an artist
So I know what true power is
I hold the world in my hands
And implode galaxies on demand

I’m an artist
Only art I did was elementary
I used to want to dream
But I got old and rudely awakened

I’m an artist
Not as young as when I wanted to be a makeup artist
Now I refuse to hide my flaws
I let my hair grow thick and my beards coat my jaws

I’m an artist
Often spelt with an e as a suffix
But I rarely perform in front of people
Except I was singing hallelujah in a cathedral

I’m an artist
Older than I was when I was six
When I thought sex was a gender
Now numbers to my body count I can’t remember

I’m an artist?
I used to be unsure of this
So I walked hunched like Quasimodo
Now my uncertainty hard to find like waldo

I’m an artist
With no shimmer of innocence
My eyes bore no show of awareness
But now I see through blouses

I’m an artist
Ironic that I chose the sciences
In theory I’m an alchemist
But I’m theatrical in practice

I’m an artist
With too much on my conscience
With the growing fear of the end
But I know purgatory is eden

I’m an artist
Give me paper, keep the canvas
No, I’m not a painter but she insists I paint her
Full strokes, half strokes though when I impale her

I’m an artist
Who understands the galaxies
Reside behind our eyes
And that stars expire but nobody ever really dies

I’m an artist
Who wishes he saw the sphynx
Before it lost its nostrils
Who wishes he didn’t stutter like moses

I’m an artist
Really I am, I’m not putting up appearances
Why do I need to convince you?
Is it because I see a lot of me in you?

I’m an artist
I bleed, I know what cardiac arrest is
I know how heartbreak feels
Still on the search for what love is

I’m an artist
So this should have a basis
But I am lost to my process
Switching bodies like the threat of a virus

I’m an artist
So I can get a little distracted
By the next piece like da vinci
So instead of writing I just soak in the work I’ve imagined

I’m an artist
With a god complex
I give life to a seed with a word
And watch it grow into poetrees

I’m an artist
Who struggles with the same crisis
You joust daily with
But knows I can do good even if I don’t know who Christ is

I’m an artist
And I know how liberating dreaming is
Until you get stuck in the same dream
Unable to achieve it you slit your wrist and skip rapture’s beam

I’m an artist
And this is my catharsis
I lost my way and people said let the dead caterpillar lie
Same people now swear allegiance to the monarchy of this butterfly

I’m an artist
Still don’t know where Aztec is
So I often take pharmaceuticals for a trip backwards
My body weakening, my soul enlightened regardless

I’m an artist
And this is where my story ends?

Fret not when they say
Writer serenade thyself
For you in all your wit
Cannot write your own story’s end.

Jamie

I’m a writer when I’m not busy with engineering stuff, I have an unhealthy love for Fanta and dodo even up to combining them, I talk as quickly as I think and I think the garden of Eden was in Black and white