November 4 2020
Two. God is love. my One.
Its that easy to be a lover in God. I pray God make me God’s music. I function as a musical instrument who happens to have his hand on many other instruments. I’m like Kokopelli the messenger. Synth key flute and word of God’s salvation to a nation.
God is love. God is great. Here go attributes:
dearly beloved, my good faith, contributor to being also whole of our good, good, gracious, merciful, all powerfully divining the life of salvation i live, my joy, my purpose, my love, my reason apart reason of this world. Read on, inner temple, outer maker, ink to a tongue, melody to a song, sweet to a sound, smell, memory, sight, eternity for the moment, life after death, joy in joy, the sheep herder of me a golden red one singing in your finding embrace.
my friends, discard the lasting lies of tutelage, fear of the world dismembers; fear of God unites. I fear God only so i fear no thing at all. All life is deceleration of beauty eternal. I am manifest, yellow happy this morning as marigold, cool corduroy and timeless, musically gonna be the best, for today i am, i am of eternal beauty today.
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Today, life goes on in the same feeling: i understand nothing. Not a thing makes sense, except going on of life itself. I have no consistency but in breath. I breathe easy among paranoia into love, in love i know life lives on still, still it makes no sense.
To me it don’t gotta make sense.
Gabi leaves. I talk to alex this as she’s getting herself ready for work at Barros. I say i’ll write it down because she was just thinking about that same feeling last night and she thinks other people feel it too. So here it is, same feeling.
Always that same feeling nothings the same.
Love is all i know and so if seems love forgets me, remembers me in most surreal fantasies of reality, reality become my fantasy. I livd like the childhood games i played. I’d been best, always won games in hide and seek, disassociate of flesh. Had imaginary friends, angels visited me. Personified the material, imputed life. I sought only respite, some solitude and the occasional body to warm me, her lips speak different than they taste.
Anyway; it’s love like God’s perfect hallelujah i’m without my world with God in my world. I’m acted through and through. I sip coffee in a tall mug, with pink, blue, white, yellow, black designs of squared space and with mystic dragonflies painted on. I know some people who are terribly good at changing others for the better.
I know some friends who write too. I’d live for a letter from Avery again. Die to hear Alicia read me her journal poems, a book of her poetic life. Gabi’s sweet melody, her soothe words, planted in me, her warm presence by way of the word and hand. I love to read my friends. Ariana’s essaying and so is David. Genius, shit yeah thats right. Trent’s whipping words, writing music. Girl from the coffeeshops got a poem journal too. Jayvan is penning stories like soul trains. Jazz from Saint Rose has a journal, that’s a book. Adam is writing his life. Carl’s postulating beyond the almost of poetics. Ciao’s penning a book of poems i remember from my own soul. Sharons been up and published. I’m published, poetry, paintings, got worldwide gallery representation. Speaking truth to a nation at elation in my own mind, wow. It seems all the books i lost in the car accident are speaking to me in my friends now. In all my writer friends, they are books i enjoy to read again and again, i write about them too.
I paint some shapes, indicative of internal space to a burlap sack. I commune with my curator in Korea. Get a text from SAIC about my application, remember that last time i applied i’d been given their highest scholarship and still couldn’t pay to get in. I’m already in, still a full ride would be nice. I look for an email back from a literary agent. I read II Corinthians 7, Pauls dear word of dearly beloved like Prince’s Lets Go Crazy and St John of the Crosses Beloved or Majnun’s Layla. I read of cleansing of flesh and spirit, perfecting holiness in fear of God. I fear God in that i fear no other thing, an all-powerful force of love directs me in word. I and out, deepened in feeling.
I’m made to question my acts in love by a woman, my friend forever – Gabriella-ELISE. I record a track on my phone of us speaking while i play the keys. Story tips out on us being friends, i keep on playing, praying in and for honest way of feeling love in life, life is going on. This is what i want; Life; Artistry; Love; God.
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We all have stories – all of us is quite the story. So long as i tell mine of God i find a fond conversation in – with each of every other of yours, dreams submerge with and coalesce into a same feeling for congruence with a quality of life ascertaining in anything but of an academic merit, rather we impose no thought, blossom like flowers we are, wish well with Immanuel, signing with love.
Assigning to all my memories a sort of despondence, absence, minded you i might remember you in the autumn winds mixed with the warm breath of another lover in a long bluegrass field. I want the yellow – you,
You know, you know how pages turn, todays that and tomorrow who should try to tell. Today is all we are, as faithful for this breath, no matter my field, my shepherd collects me, loves me, carries me to carry me oh my cross of a mind into perfect pastures, postulating on the color purple, holy adorations, lambs and the color red’s feeling, naked and never afraid, comfortable with giving a dream not knowing where you are, only caring who you are – why God is love.