song of the pygmy giraffe
I want to share my work.
All artists do - I too fear criticism, crave approval.
Ego removal: Ken is not Zen but then
When I paint Hähnchen - pollo- poulet
Who do I think I am, Robert Gullet?
Stay on task.
Don’t bask sipping from a flask masking.
Mom needed a small, continual audience.
Van Gogh deserving more ended up in folklore, cheapened
Heaped on: I was “not a musician nor pianist, not a conductor, my writing sophomoric.
Couldn’t I “learn from the successful teachers?” Lest we dwell:
Maintaining self-hating painful hell, self-limiting appraisal, a phrase I’ll
learn feeling lower than Kafka’s roach.
A new approach ignores put downs of any kind, turning an eye blind…
Grow thicker skin said kin of Ken. Say! I like your theater piece score.
Writers better by far funnier, millions and tons… oh rats…
Meaningless stats.
I want too much… or too little? Whittle away the chaff.
Is there a song of the pygmy giraffe?
help my son
Why do some geniuses suffer so intensely?
The answer to this, dear Dante, dear Milton, dear Shakespeare might help my son immensely.
naïf: Wasn’t cool to fool Mother Nature or Father Time chronologically speaking they were around at the Big Bang, the birth of Cool and the Gang and the Little Dipper— Which was hipper?
Good grief, Charlie Brown… Sounds naïf.
the anti-muse took a snooze.
An opportunity to get booze
How could I lose, Toulouse-Lautrec?
Have a Beck’s.
reminded of my mother
Another time the anti-muse blew a fuse.
I went to a bar, saw some stars and starlets,
one named Scarlet reminded me of my mother, Charlotte.
another write… No need
Maybe a really good one- with a brighter, lighter touch, insightful typewriter.
Did you know?
Did you know Flo?
Did you know? hey yo?!
I’ve known flow… But its been slow.
So felt a little low in the deeper ranges:
Rest in Peace, dear Brahms.
Even you had qualms.
Try Liszt for a twist.
Liebestraum Number Three, feel free, gleefully glide from Liebestraum to
Eric Fromm, the dream of love is what Freud enjoyed.
Be my own muse
Walk in my own shoes.
Know flow walking through greens, working through blues.
Vision, Now Life
Live life ahead
Green forest glen, suddenly summer turns red.