Reclaim the word:
To be a lover of.
An enthusiast of.
When did you become the oxymoron that stands before me,
meant to belittle me.
meant to separate me.
or even shame me.
Reclaim the word:
To be a lover of.
An enthusiast of.
I am your admirer and devoted friend.
You are not my profession
You are my pleasure.
Much more than a past time or a paycheck.
The day I stop loving or even liking you is the day I stopbeing an
Amateur.
©ChristopherF. Brown 2010
Eman On
I think I over did the canopy but I still am proud of this
Lovers
This one, OMG i could not take a good pic of this one for the life of me but today for some reason this one came. Still not the best pic but its post worthy
The Bridge
I really like this one I have to put it somewhere because I keep wanting to do stuff to it.
As always let me know what you think. Good or bad it all helps. Just be constructive
It’s just times like these that really get to me.
usually when it’s one after another.
I see you in the sparkle of an eye,
the corner of a smile.
I see it in the swagger of their walk
and hear you in the melodic way they talk.
I know it’s you,
or
At least I think it could be.
And there
right there
is the problem.
I’ve learned not to force or fake you.
It never ends well.
so I wait
Not expectantly.
Not eagerly.
Almost ambivalently.
I’ve really been happy without you.
In contrast to all the hurt I had with you.
It’s just times like these that really get to me.
usually when its one after another.
I see you in the sparkle of an eye
the corner of a smile.
I see it in the swagger of their walk
and hear you in the melodic way they talk.
I know it’s you,
or
At least I think it could be.
And there
right there
Is the thought that makes my soul shudder.
The same ole thing all over again.
The only thing new is the clothes you wear.
The same blood that poisons me still pumps through your veins.
That was a little too negative so I’ll take it back.
The few times that were good were really good
Just
They never compared
or out weighed
the bad.
For some reason.
You have this hold on me.
I can’t seem to shake you.
The older I get
The less frequent I even notice you.
It’s just times like these that really get to me.
usually when its one after another.
I see you in the sparkle of an eye.
the corner of a smile.
I see it in the swagger of their walk
and hear you in the melodic way they talk.
I know it’s you,
or
At least I think it could be.
And there
right there
I question;
How could one search for a thing and never find it?
While others have the very thing rain down upon them as they seek shelter from it.
Others run from you.
Others flat out:
reject,
deny,
and loathe you.
I do not sit up at night crying over you.
Anymore
or
Look for you behind every corner or door
I wish you would have taken this last bag with you.
It hurts to be reminded of you.
The you I never had and always wanted
The you I tried for and never got
The you that lives happily ever after with those whom
detested
and
cursed
your name.
The you that I don’t want to want.
Like I said,
The older I get
the less I even know you are there.
It’s just times like these that really get to me.
usually when its one after another.
I see you in the sparkle of an eye.
The corner of a smile.
I see it in the swagger of their walk
and hear you in the melodic way they talk.
I know it’s you,
or
At least I think it could be.
And there
right there
I remind myself
it’s the same old hurt called love again
You upset me too much
You take up too much time and energy
Scars and wounds that barely heal are what I have to show of you.
I cover my ears,
close my eyes,
shut my mouth,
and repeat to myself,
“It’s just that same old hurt called love again.
I won’t be bothered with you anymore.”
I shut the door,
close the window,
and swallow the key,
But
Just like the tenacious little ant you are.
You always find your way in.
Maybe
Just maybe.
You’ll do right this time.
It’s just times like these that really get to me.
usually when its one after another.
I see you in the sparkle of an eye
the corner of a smile.
I see it in the swagger of their walk
and hear you in the melodic way they talk.
I know it’s you,
or
At least I think it could be.
And there
right there
I let you in.
Praying you’ll be different.
Praying that it wasn’t you.
Praying that it was some evil twin.
Praying that my heart has enough strength.
Praying to remember and forget everything from the last time.
I remind myself
I know you
And I wait
Time will reveal all
Once again.
©Christopher F. Brown 2010
You’re worse than the people
you think
you are different from.
You see the external forces driving the mentality of the heard.
You strike left.
You strike right.
Whichever is opposite.
You become opposite of the heard
to be different
to be separate
Not
Because it is what you like or even desire.
You rail against one thing one day
another the next.
only to accept them all when you actually try them.
At least the heard
in their mindless obedience
is true to themselves.
They like what they like
dislike what they don’t.
Even if they are beguiled to do so.
You
You wait for them
Only then can you make your mind up.
Only then can your feelings speak to you.
Only then can like what they don’t
love what they hate.
Instead of trying to be different just be you.
Instead of following the left or right path make your own
At least then the truly original would respect you
At least then I could look into your soul and see
You.
And not just the inverse, opposite of everyone else
You claim not to be.
©Christopher F. Brown 2010
You timidly linger
before you pass me by.
Wanting to know the pleasure of your company
you only leave me the slightest
most timid
of glances.
Your eyes say many things
yet your lips only smile.
I would wager your voice beautiful
your kiss divine.
Yet
You timidly linger.
Only leaving,
“What if?”
Behind.
©Christopher F. Brown 2010
Sometimes
I see you from different angles.
I wonder if it is light and shadow playing tricks on my eyes
games with my mind
or
Could you really be that beautiful.
My ears must lie.
No earthly voice could be so enchanting.
You bewitched my every thought to you
yet
have stolen my ability to dare voice them louder than a whisper.
Sometimes
I see you from different angles.
I question
would the back of your head rest snugly in the palm of my hand
as I draw you near to kiss the lips that beckon me.
I could easily carry you when you tire
If you let me
I could easily protect you while sleep
offer a shoulder for crying
an ear for listening
If you let me.
Sometimes
I see you from different angles
I wonder what it would be like.
If you let me.
©Christopher F. Brown 2010
I see you and know you.
The things your eyes say before you turn away.
I see you and know you
almost as clear as a mirror.
I reach my hand out to grasp yours
as you do mine.
Only time and space stand thinly in-between.
I see you and know you.
I can only compare your eyes to the stars in the night sky
I can only compare your smile to the sun
your laugh to the splash made by a jay in the first puddle of spring.
None of it does you justice
I see you and know you.
©ChristopherF. Brown 2010
I look away.
The music in your ears enchants me.
I dare not glance into your pretty chestnut eyes.
You might see what I really want to say.
I can not look upon your luscious full lips.
Technically you are a stranger.
Even though there would be no rejection if I kissed you
I may never stop if I did.
No
I can not look at you.
I might fall in love
That is something I don't want to do
Again.
©Christopher F. Brown 2010
For the past two, going on three weeks now I’ve been painting everyday. I just woke up and said to myself,
“I feel like painting.”
and I haven’t stopped.
Of course these are by no means professional. I gladly and proudly proclaim these amateur. ( Wrote a poem about the word amateur will post latter.)
These are all done in oil, and I am still searching for the perfect spot to take a proper picture that will properly translate what I painted. I have a lot more that I will post latter but for now these are the only pictures of the painting that I feel are acceptable.
ALL FEEDBACK IS WELCOME as long as it is constructive. If you think it sucks, tell me why. If you think its great, tell me why.
I call this one Chaos Kontrol
This is Man
This is Woman.
This is either: Earth, Life, In-between the shades of Grey, or Shot of happiness. Haven’t made up my mind yet.
This is High noon in the home land.
This is Monday. :-)
This is Flesh tones or Shades
I haven’t titled this one yet.
Haven’t titled this one yet.
This is either The void is what you see or The Pessimist
I’d be remiss if I didn’t warn you.
The path you’re on
I’ve been there too.
The progress you’re making is false.
The movement you feel is not advancement but sinking sand.
You can’t tell because the trees even play tricks on you.
I thought I’d tell you
even though
I know
You won’t believe me.
You cut me,
jumped over
and even stepped on me to get there.
To you
I’m am an enemy,
competition,
even maybe a joke
To me
You are another person with a silly smile
sinking slowly in the sand.
I reach out but no matter what
you won’t take my hand.
©Christopher F. Brown 2010
My life never meant anything to you.
You were:
Too big
Too bad
Too bold
Too important and better than me to see the value of me.
I wish I knew what
My mother
My daughter
were feeling right now.
But I can’t.
My life never meant anything to you.
I know God forgives you.
I pray
one day
the rest will.
What you
and they
saw and see
as worthless
is far beyond priceless.
Wounds that will never heal.
Emotional and mental blemishes that have already become cancerous.
All because
My life never meant anything to you.
©Christopher F. Brown 2010
Kill them before they grow.
The voices tell me:
“You’re not good enough.”
“You’re not smart enough.”
“You are not thin enough.”
“YOU are not enough.”
Kill them before they grow.
Sometimes they sound like my own
Sometimes like a friend’s or even family.
The most seductive
most pleasing one says,
“I don’t care.”
Kill them before they grown.
I never said that they only spoke lies.
Often they tell truths I don’t want to hear.
Discerning when the lies became true is difficult.
One must abandon acting out of causality.
Otherwise
they would all become defining.
Kill them before they grown.
Learn to make your own decisions
so you are not led by them.
©Christopher F. Brown 2010
Don’t be confused
or even question your understanding.
What flows from your heart
and stops at your lips
is
What has been made clear.
Comprehending the divine is not the mind’s purpose.
Understanding with the heart takes time.
What you seek
you’ve already found.
The problem is
YOU
want to make sense of it.
Whatever it is
it will be.
I’ll give you a hint.
What you want
IS NOT
Understanding
©Christopher F. Brown 2010
Sometimes
I feel
I have the mind of a young man
The soul of an old one
and
the heart of a child.
I keep the door open to learn new things.
Kicking the junk out the back.
Looking out there
I always have a sense of de ja vue.
The red wings and the blue jays
I know them as good friends.
It’s funny though.
I don’t remember seeing them here before.
When I start to laugh
just for no reason
some think it weird or strange,
But the little ones saw.
They smiled and laughed
just as I did.
©Christopher F. Brown 2010
Loudly proclaiming your ignorance
while seeking clandestine moments of clarity.
Suffering
Struggle
Strife
They are all you know.
They have been your bed.
They were the nourishment that sprang from hate’s bosom
They were taught to you by force
They have worked for you out of necessity that later became choice
Therefore,
everyone must follow to the same.
Loudly proclaiming your ignorance
while seeking clandestine moments of clarity.
You learn the secret your teacher never told.
It did not have to be.
The path you chose was revealed.
Well traveled
Well worn
Well known
Only later
at the end of it all
Was it understood
The hardest
The roughest
At the cliff you
Loudly proclaim your ignorance
while seeking clandestine moments of clarity
©Christopher F. Brown
Capturing a fleeting glance
I wonder.
How did I come to be here?
I question,
“Why me?”
We all think it.
The brave admit it.
“Where did I fail?”
Sure
If you look at the now
there are many reasons.
If we go way back when
and talk about those times
Back then
All the right words were said.
All the right things were had.
All the right actions were done.
Still
I am here
With only a fleeting glance.
© Christopher F. Brown 2010
Howling wind does not move me
Raging sea does not shake me
The pit opens beneath me
Yet
I remain
Change has no effect on me.
Birth and death are the only I recognize
From my place of strength
I am told of stagnation
From my place of power
I am shown weakness
From the place were
I can not be
and will not be
moved
I realize
I’ve long forgotten about the fall.
© Christopher F. Brown 2010
Confusion
The blight of a conscious mind.
A pox upon a faithful spirit.
able to comprehend
and reason
like nothing else in creation
Yet
some say to reason about creation
to ask questions of the creator
is the same
just as kin
as to question the creator.
And that is said to be most horrific of a sins.
Confusion
We lean not on OUR OWN understanding.
We walk by FAITH and NOT BY SIGHT.
How could we ever get to true understanding if we did not question
the flaws of
and in
OUR OWN
and seek higher than it?
Higher than those around us that claim to know.
If told to move
one has to ask
“Where?”
otherwise we remain still.
By faith we ask
By faith we receive
By faith we walk.
Confusion
not question
is the enemy of faith
Confusion
not question
opens the door for ignorance and doubt.
Confusion is the dark
Question is the door leading the way
Faith is the answer that brings understanding and revelation.
The light is not blissful ignorance but a faithful knowing
to any question
we receive
a faithful answer
All will be made clear
seek and you will find
knock and the door will be opened
Ask and it will be given to you.
© Christopher F. Brown 2010
Sometimes
on wet spring nights
I like to go for walks
maybe, sometimes, rides
listening to jazz without my glasses on.
The aftermath of forgotten rain.
The onset of a slightly odd but gentile fog
puts the world into my everyday perspective
No need for clarification.
Sometimes
on wet spring nights
I like to go for walks
maybe, sometimes, rides
listening to jazz without my glasses on.
You came smell the sent of Eucalyptus,
pine even
clearer than any other time.
Streetlights reflecting on the endless black asphalt
while run off empties into gutters.
Sadly
they are the closest to a river some will ever know.
As kids we would race bottle caps.
The first to disappear ironically won.
Sometimes
on wet spring nights
I like to go for walks
maybe, sometimes, rides
listening to jazz without my glasses on.
I go in when the song is over.
In spring the rain stops
but you never know
when it decides to rain again.
©Christopher F. Brown 2010
This place.
Nothing is old.
If there were
it would stick out like a chick from its shell.
This place.
It has a soul
It has a spirit
But it does not speak.
It can not speak
it does not have a voice yet.
It has no story to tell.
This place.
No spirits dwell here.
No great joy,
No humbling sorrow.
These walls have never vibrated from passion filled nights
echoed from early morning fights.
The very ground itself would tear away that which is too weak.
This place.
Nothing is old.
If anything was you would have to listen.
You would have no choice but to hear.
It would scream so softly only your soul could perceive.
This place.
©Christopher F. Brown 2009
Have you ever felt like
you woke up
and were surrounded by fog?
In that fog
you saw shadows of things and people
and heard sounds the same,
but when you reached out,
to touch,
to feel,
you could not.
When you strained to listen
because you could only hear,
you still could not comprehend.
How do you relate to a shadow?
How do you explain sounds unclear?
I think it would make you question yours
and the definition of
sanity.
Just to make sure you and it matched.
I think it would make you question
maybe you were the shadow.
But then it would be up to you to determine true or faux.
Asking a shadow that you can’t hear if you are the same does not make sense.
Maybe they are surrounded by the same fog,
maybe the same mist.
To them
you are the mumbling shadow;
you might not really exist.
Have you ever felt like you understood
Alone?
©Christopher F. Brown 2009
In spite of present pain
future frustration
Do you still smile?
In the face of Danger
Disaster
And that which would bring desolation
Do you laugh
maybe even dance?
In the midst of chaos
Corruption and confusion
Do you remain
Calm, cool and collective?
When it presses upon your back
To the point near break
When it stands at the very gates of your soul
Ready to capture your mind
claim your body as it’s very own
Do you not fear?
Knowing to whom the temple truly belongs.
When everything is gone
Time has pulled away
The same as the ocean pulls the sand
Will you know who you are?
Will you understand who I am?
You are my sons and daughters
The blood that flows in your veins
The blood that freed every captive
Made clean every stain
is the very same blood that warms your body
And opens your mouth to sing
It is my blood that is in you
It commands you to dance
Especially in the rain.
© Christopher F. Brown 2010
I’ve spent many years learning the rules
only for you to come along and confuse them.
Experience has shown me
the words you say
the things you do
all point to one
but somehow
you add up and factor out as two.
I differ to the rules,
remember what I learned in doing but still
there is no mention
no chapter
not even a footnote on you.
Maybe I just live in a world set by rules only I live by.
It could be that you have poked a hole in my box
and my thoughts are escaping.
Whatever it is
I don’t understand this thing.
I don’t understand you.
©Christopher F. Brown 2009
I know this might sound silly
Coming from us what really doesn’t.
The other day an ant crawled across my finger tip
I lifted it up to a place where I could better see it.
As its little antenna’s moved back and forth I wondered
Could its microscopic mind comprehend me?
For all of its social skills
For all of its building talents
A mere ant and all of anthood is nothing
in comparison
To man and all of manhood
I watched it move
From fingertip to fingertip
In comparison
it would be like me
Moving from mountain top
to mountain top
I wonder
With all we think we know
Can we
Could we
Would we
Ever be able to fully
Comprehend you?
©Christopher F. Brown 2010
Emanating from the speakers
waltzing with air, around it spins for a moment
then to lay at rest in my ear.
It’s dreams passes through my heart and lungs as heavy smoke
finding my soul it deeply impresses.
Lingering long enough for me to be intrigued
lasting long enough for me to more than hear but listen
accompanying my soul if only long enough for it to smile.
When realization sets in
when understanding of what’s happening,
when what’s going on takes full hold.
The song is over.
Melodious has gone
the mood has passed.
It is time for a new song.
©Christopher F. Brown 2009
Darkness retreats to the background in your presence
Becoming canvas for whatever you desire
Tonight,
This cold night
From high above
you glow
If I could reach
I’m sure You would be the warmth I’m seeking
Tonight
This cold night
A light mist falls in front of you
Extending your reach
Dancing and bending
Your rays reach down to me
Amongst And Between
The dark
Tonight
This cold night
Shadows in valleys collect in mass against you
Against the thought of you
Against even a rumor of the thought of you
Tonight
This cold night
Your light shines on and through me
What they do
Can not stand in your path
Tonight
This cold night
I have no thought of fear
No feeling of shame.
©Christopher F Brown 2010
