
my own small art

my own small art
People don’t really know what to do with freedom.
It is not complete, but abundant.
If you do not look it in the eye and own it, then
you can’t complain that you don’t have enough.
Make your way on that path of sweat and tears.
Take a scenic tour. Freedom is is not a free ticket.
Freedom is a chance for rolling up your sleeves and
maybe doing something with it.
Oh yes, It can be taken away before you know it.


I don’t know what to choose.
Or what to let go of.
I know when people let go of me.
I know when I can not do something anymore.
I know that my hands look like the hands of an older woman.
My skin is losing it’s touch.
But my mind can still fly above clouds.

go ahead
hold on to the dull witted
negative chains
wrap them around your neck
like a talisman
don’t be caught-up
by the laughter
in her eyes
art . cactus . nmd

the way the heart moves
a beating pushing
pulling inhaling
the senses alive
dancing
we sigh
breathless
art and words: nmd . ©april 2021

i am many things
i am nothing
a human heart beating
feeling desire
feeling death creeping
closer than before
taking souls
names ring out
echo
become quiet
evil our demise
love continues
~nmd

i see what will be a picture. if you see it and the image catches your attention, you have your own meaning, story, thoughts. what you see evokes a feeling, thought, memory. what becomes of the things it evokes?
rise up your head
outa sleep
and all the fog of want
those
sorry ghosts
be gone
there is this
now
knockin’
askin you to
open your eyes to the day
kick worry in the piddley ass
tell it to
go-da the dogs
cause things
gonna be fine
the mind
finds the same
path
and takes it
unless
something
takes it another way
something
some
one
thing it could
be light
maybe love or some
kind of sight
that puts up a battered blinking
road block of sighs

a lifting
i looked from within my shell,
from within my reasoning,
a judgement to find.
why did they make this?
i wondered if
they enjoy doing it.
then there came an answer.
the making is not mine.
there is no judgement for me to find.
a soul weight lifted.
my sight, as with tears, cleared.
a new way of seeing appeared.
-nmd

Augustus: I am quite happy with myself. But, I like to be with you sometimes.
Nancy: I see. But, do you have to be with me when I am peeing?
Augustus: Peeing is intriguing.
Nancy: And there is the sink. You leave the sink all furry.
Augustus: I like to spread the love.

Where
on the dot
What
just enough to sustain
When
it’s actually needed
How
we don’t see it coming
Why
is Love
Who
really knows

one tree of crisp sycamore leaves
a small-town street
wind mixing-up a symphony
a delicious aroma of sound
careful not to burn-nan

there she stands
at the end of the land
thirty trips around the sun
plus two
she has come
to this place
looking for the
darkest blackberry
of july

look at my past
the past of my father
the past my mother
methodist england wales
catholic germany
small towns
southern illinois
man marries
and goes into the air force
the woman
no one talked about
didn’t wait
he marries again
a catholic girl
her father would not have it
the family disowned her
my mother
how could they
when i was young
we visited her mother
her father in a wheelchair
thin
weak
silent
grandma gave me
butter and sugar on bread
she had a german accent
she was sweeter than pie
Live Music information . by Nancy Davis
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