The Sad Clown

My relationship with this blog has turned into an old friend that you still care for but has drifted away. I mean, I just celebrated my friends birthday and realized we've been friends for twenty some odd years now. But still, we don't see each other often. The need is not there. That's not necessarily a bad thing. It's the way with old friends that sometimes you don't see each other often-but when it counts they are there. And this blog expects nothing from me. I heave the guilt upon myself for not writing in it as often as I once did. But if you check the timeline, it's been almost eight years since I originally created this website. Over those eight years it's been an up and down relationship.

I still write, mostly in a notebook. Mostly in my head. I say "mostly in my head" because the poetry of life still flows through me. But doesn't necessarily find itself on paper. Life is busy. It elbows it's way into our creativity and forces us into ultimatums. I call it the "poetry of life" because it's a feeling within myself that can only be described if you can describe the complexities of life. Which I doubt anyone can. But those mysterious moments where I want to cry and then laugh because of the beauty of such an emotion..Am I rambling? Tears can be powerful modes of communication within ourselves. Probably that moment where the walls come down and we've stopped protecting our ego with blind defiance.

I remember as a child crying and ignoring any comfort of words. I wanted to cry. It was something that needed to be let into the air. As a human I have very little power in the grand scheme of things. This is especially vivid as a child requiring the assistance and love of those that may or may not give. But I wanted to scream and ignore the warmth. That was power. The power to scream into the sky and swing my fists at objects that wouldn't give way. Nowadays I don't have the luxury of feeling overwhelmed with emotion as much. So I appreciate the tears when they do come. Mostly smiling as they slowly release themselves from my hard head. This protective wall I've built up. To smile and cry is a rather confusing scenario for some.

It reminds me of a line from Jay Electronica. "Smile on my face, tears of a sad clown"

Release. Write. Release. Write. Write to release and be all right.

Let's get to some poetry. Because that's all I've ever been and all I'll ever be.

I hope you understand
That when tears run down my face while I write
It's not sad
It's good
It's what I wanted to say to release the day
And these currents be passion
A break in the emotionless tide of work and purchase
I take the waves and add dreams to chase
Good friends come and go
Toes curl around the sand
I write and feel so far away from the cash demand
I feel so alone in a beautiful way
Soon enough the right hand will force itself from the crowd
And it was so loud but dead quiet when we kissed
Guess we inspired those who have forgotten what they missed
Such is art.
With the power to silence and explode all at once
And you would scream so the photographs shook
And you would turn away so silently the walls spoke
Both times I would reach out just to feel your energy
You were hot to the touch
I'm crippled by my crutch
And all the past girls have me distancing myself
Not saying too much
You either feel me or not
Hoping you're reading eyes never had to tip toe in relationship rot
So you either feel me or not
But I've been feeling myself so it don't matter much
If you like me or not
Because nothing like poetry generated while isolated
Confessing my sins in the mirror
Cold eyes glared back
So no gaze can faze...

It's because I inspected myself
Ran my hands along new lines under my eyes
New lines make up new lies
Can't believe I tell em
Wondering who I am while I dissapear into the night air
I played a victim role when I never really cared
I collapsed in front of the crowd
And they all stood and stared
Later they said it was the pen that destroyed me
I carried it around too often
It took me to another life
Just trying to contain the rage
Old friends want to remember me
So they dust off an old page
Finding wisdom in words

 -Dev