Holster Grip

Willing to admit it is the end?

This thought tortures my mind like no other. But it was one written the end is merely the beginning of something else.

Does evil ever disappear?  Can we undo what has been done? Can we give up hope and close our eyes to the light of love all around us?

No.

At least I don’t think so.

All those thoughts used to drive me crazy then a poet let me know that I wasn’t the only one with them.  Then another artist should me how I could use my insanity and insecurity as fuel and now I’m still a starving artist.  Telling lies to my neighbor with a smile on my face when I know I’m supposed to be a sober agent of harmony and harmony doesn’t crack a smile it raises it.

So will I start writing again?

If these typos don’t make me snap first.

Nathaniel LaMorey

My Fellow Artists

I know that my fellow artist’s are out there.

Perhaps they think they are alone, like I often think I myself am.  Maybe they know many other artists.  But my question goes on and troubles me; where are my fellow artists?

Perhaps we would love each other or perhaps we would hate one another.  Perhaps we would inspire each other or distract each other; either way where are they?

Would we be different ages?

Would we all speak the same language or would our art be the only common factor between us?  Are they voyaging around the world seeking after themselves, after God, after each other like I was; or are they sitting still waiting for the moment to come and say hello like I now am?

No matter the question and no matter the doubt I know that these artists live on and I will not stop seeking and waiting for them my fellow artists.

My Wife

My wife is everywhere to be seen

I always have her with me

Sometimes she’s a redhead other times a blond but she’s always right with me

Potential wife I should say for I never have just so decided

Walking down the grocery store isle and my wife just past me

I hope she comes back to follow

Waiting in line at the cafe with seven people

Four women

One could be my wife

I’m sure of it

When the Enemy is Light

I have learned to not fear the dark.

Masters and teachers have shown;

The shadow is a friend and darkness brings calm.

But what though of daylight?

What will anyone dare to say when all is exposed?  

But, O, is not this when all is sublime;

And all is new?

It is not all too true

More so we are exposed  to what could be the deepest of shame;

And so the deepest of hurt.

Every imperfection is made visible for all to see

Every doubt made clear and validated

So now I ask to the only master I have left standing in the day;

Teach me, O, Lord to face the day

The Pursuit of Vice

I left all I had about five weeks ago.  The question ‘Why?’ has been in my head more so than anyone else’s and I thought I would sit down and try to figure it out.

I remember before I left that I was overwhelmed with the fear that honor would fall to shame and love would fall to vanity.  This fear kept me up late at night.  Till at last I knew I had to leave everything I knew to discover the truth.  Are we all destined for chaos caked with shame and vanity?  Only a walk leading to a bus ride to New York City could answer my question.

Every person has many fears.  We forget about them because of the routine of day to day life.  But strip that away and all that is left is the character, all that is left is the fear.  Trust has an interesting way of breaking fear and tossing it to the side of the way.  The more you spend time with people the more you realize that things like vanity and shame and even fear are realities and very weak realities that we create in our own heads.  In the context of community love and honor overwhelm fear and what is faltering disappears into waste that is then washed away and soon forgotten.

Did I find the answer I was looking for in New York City?  No, I found only more questions.  But what I did find was vanity, shame, love, and honor in myself and all my neighbors.  As if I was put in the middle of an intersection of choices, none right or wrong but many weak and strong.  I can only go on from here having finished my pursuit of shame and vanity.

Freedom to be Lost

To my brothers Samuel and Jeremiah

Never stop seeking.

For the first time in four weeks I am free.  I can’t express the joys and now fears I have after having left the Presbyterian Hospital in New York City.  The greatest of my joys is that I have gained ownership of all my possessions again.  In the hospital all I really ‘owned’ was a notebook my brother brought me when I first came in and my cloths; it took three weeks to get my cloths back.  To have my books, money, furniture back is overwhelming but it also excites me to no small amount.

Speaking of possessions maybe I can make Heaven, Nirvana, Paradise here on earth.  In a perfect world I could start right here on 40 Easy Street. The world isn’t perfect and neither am I but I could start anyway by taking those odds.  The plan seems just good and old enough for me to try.  I can try it out with my friends, family, and stuff close by.  I can stop running.

Why do, did, I runaway anyway?  Why did I abandon those I love?  When it’s hard or easy I turn down my head and walk away from the ones who bring me wholeness.  Is it that I like it that way, do I like to struggle through life rather than just go through it.  But I forget that I don’t have to pay for my life, the payment is taken care of, total payment made, no returns.  All else seems to be interest given freely.  Freedom is mine, once more, perhaps I never lost it.

A Cry in the Wilderness

How do you express the amount of peace and lack of chaos I have?  How also do I say I have so much hope that despair seems like a silly dream I once had as a child?  Perhaps I’ll just say it.  Bolder words I doubt have ever been spoken.  Do not miss my sarcasm. 

Hope is fleating, as is peace, I’ve found but they both exist.  My name carries a story behind it.  It’s a story about a prophet with courage when everyone else failed to have any.  My dad has told me that I like Nathan, the prophet of David the king, must have courage when no one else does.  I have taken my father’s advice and with courage peace and hope have followed.  Who would have guessed.  Surely not I. 

The simple pleasure of raising my hands and smiling overwhelmes me.  A walk down the hallway in the hospital I’m staying at encourages me to find what I’m seeking.  Where is peace and hope?  Is it within or without?  It is neither, it is between the love of two.  There is the mean of chaos and apathy and also despair and happiness.  There is peace and hope between the love of two.

Starting Over, Again

I think it’s time to start  new.  I’ll sart here.  By here I mean in the present.  So yes, I’ll start here.