Acrylic on Canvas 60″×48″

I recognized my nature.

Not much was steeped in good.

There was this strange sensation.

Like maybe I just should.

Forget it all and start a new.

Take the narrow view to wide.

Take my head out from my ass.

And maybe look outside.

Not all is gain or glory.

Not all is pain and strife.

The road the path the choices made.

It’s a wild ride this life.

Several people that I respect have said that Fyodor Dostoevski is the greatest author in all time.

I don’t know… However I have recently come across a passage from one of his novels The Brothers Karamazov which is:

‘What is Hell? I maintain that it is the suffering of being unable to love.’

This bounced around in my head for the better part of a day before the realized how profound this really is.

I have met at least 2 of these people and indeed they do suffer. I have also observed that they have a certain proclivity for wanting to share their hell with others.

There was fortune in the failures.

Except few would stick around.

To sit and take their talking to.

From the elders ground and pound.

There was wisdom in the put downs.

But the weak had gotten soft.

No more bitter medicines.

No gloved fingers while they coughed.

No one knew the outcome.

Where this could ever go.

Screamed the wise one from the mountain.

“It’s best that you don’t know!”

You don’t think that I wanted this. It’s not something that I choose. I might not even wish it on you. The Narcissistic Blue’s.

I feel nothing if not empty. I’ll break it down for you like news. There’s just me and never you. Got the Narcissistic Blue’s.

You were cautioned with a warning. Walk away before you lose. There’s no right time, night or morning. The Narcissistic Blue’s.

I am sitting with the bankers. We are calculating dues. We have the names and you’re all wankers with the Narcissistic Blue’s.

Rising from the ashes.

We all came here from that storm.

A Rising Tide that lifts all boats.

Doesn’t know the cold from warm.

We don’t know how we got here.

Those mysteries are well hid.

We are stardust, ancient carbon.

Only God knows what we did.

No need to get all serious.

Bring the ice age, then the thaw.

None will know who came or went.

Who was good or broke the law.

But all the ones that came before us.

The ones that couldn’t read or write.

They are still around here somewhere.

They’re just buried outta sight.

You couldn’t see The War inside. But it raged here, on and on.

You didn’t want to stick around. Loved your smile and the con.

You could bring us more than that? More than what you’re known for.

But you like tears and words like change. Such performance with no crowd roar.

You told your friends of victory and they spoke it all to me.

You were dancing to the drummer and you thought those songs were free.

There’s forgiveness and there’s virtues. Then there’s something more like this.

And there’s something you can find it here. But you blinked twice just to miss.

There’s a mystery and there is a riddle. There was honor in all those clues. 

Chosing war you couldn’t win. Didn’t prepare you for when you lose.

I remember when you were smiling. Arrogance painted on that grin.

It just feels so damn Biblical to see angels dancing on a pin.

I was chatting with online posers.

Not enough to cause me shame.

I didn’t leave the house for days

I didn’t use a different name.

The days turned into one full week.

She started speaking love.

I thought myself you just don’t know.

And then the push became the shove.

I called her on the video.

She declined and there’s the whirl.

Thought some fat dude behind laptop.

Not some hot young Asian girl.

There’s some method to the madness.

I don’t think the methods sane.

But I guess there could be worse things.

About how they hide that pain.

Marcus wrote, ‘When you arise in the morning think of what a precious privilege it is to be alive-to breathe, to think, to enjoy and to love. ‘

Now there’s a meditation.

It might be important to note that Mr Aurelius was the last of what was considered to be in Rome…

‘The 5 Good Emporers. ‘ A period of about 200 years that ended in 180 A.D.

Marcus was also a Stoic Philosopher.