Life and its shade
canvased by god
God made it beautiful

But we are
adding shades of greys and black
enveloping the sky
turning fog into smog

Putting solute
in water bodies
that are not dispersible
making it turbid
mislaying its transparency
water is not pure anymore

Deforestation
converting the forest
into the barren land
beautiful landscapes are mechanized
by man
buildings and more building
watching stars sounds bookish
nature is losing its charm

Emotions are blowing over
relationships changing
accepting changes
changing our own self
mirrors are showing
someone else image
and asking you
who you are?

I want to watch all
The teeth fall out
Of my mouth
My eyes sink
Into my skull
Every hair
Fall out of my head

Brittle nails and blue fingertips
Yellowing patches
And skin
Clear enough to see rivers
Flowing beneath
Canvased tight,
as if my bones
Are just hoping to break free

To cut through
The canvas with
The knife my grandfather
Gave me
Spilling everything

Every word
I could never get out
Every time getting
Caught on
The tip of my tongue

No glass half full
Or half empty
I want to be as shallow
as it gets

When the waves
Crash against the shoreline
Making their way up
To meet your sand-covered toes,
That is as shallow as
The water gets

I could never
Be so versatile
As the ocean

I have to choose,
And what’s the point of
Such strong feelings
If they are always trapped
And writhing
On my inside

- S.G.

Hello Pigment.
I missed your squish-
your fingers staining my favorite picture books.

I need your oily claws
your head-mashing whiff
the way you smile with toothy indifference

you climb over
all walls I orchestrate
and sit turgid
with bright Grandiose on my blanched skin.

my life is your palette,
you have moved in like a sloppy roommate
and your haphazard possessions drape the cabinets,
the chair,
the sink.
I love it.

you inhabit every vacancy
-a bulky mass of
magical “art”
and
no matter how much I mix your
complementary colors,
you appear
ever so bright.  

please… don’t leave me open canvased.  
splotch to me left and right
taint any negative space
barge in without
pusillanimous footsteps.
whip your camel hair bristles
all over my pages.
color me, pigment!
                  
             Splatter, Paint.

I've been told; life is all about growth and maturity
Leaving the nest and learning to take on and embrace your surroundings
Then explain why I feel as though I'm shrinking, constantly fighting these ongoing insecurities? 
 
People always preach about being true to who you are
The unknown galaxy of the delicate mind is somehow bigger than our own body
Exile the unworthy nightmares and follow the dreams that may appear bizzar
 
But what do you do when you're all alone in a crowded room?
And extraversion and introversion are the two demons playing tug of war?
I wish I were plain and simple like a white rose, just allowing myself to bloom
 
What do I do when the glorious stars lose their twinkle?
Once so bright and majestic, now blurry and incoherent
How should I uproot these sorrows, when they're so profound and as deep as wrinkles?
 
If the lies and confusion are steering clear of the shadows of hope
And these tears, sharp as daggers are supposed to seize to a stop
Then why does it seem as though everything is heading in a downward *****?
 
It reminds me of a beautiful bird trapped in an iron barred cage
Struggling, and flapping it's wings in deprivation of escaping
It could shrill and cry, but no one shows interest in it's excruciating rage
 
If razors weren't sharp and scissors had no blades
If skin were tougher than rubber
Would these unruly memories and tortured thoughts drift into the distance and fade?
 
I despise how the facts are too hard to handle and never good enough
No matter how much you strive for change, god's never on your side
And frankly, I'm exhausted from putting up walls and having to always be so tough
 
No matter how hard I try, I am still lost and weak
Searching for the true meaning in blank canvased skies
At a loss of how to correct a lack of color in this never ending streak
 
I know who Faith is, and hopefully she'll grace her presence upon me soon
Maybe she'll teach me how to expand my wings and soar into the horizon
Allowing sublimity to perfuse like a butterfly, rather than falling into the darkness of a constricted cocoon

I helped Jesus down off the cross
And apologized for his terrible loss.
All through the night we traveled at length,
And slept through the day to regain our strength.

Nights came and went, the stars at our backs,
Warding off evil and constant attacks.
Canvased the sky with our own selfish rain,
Filled in the holes to make sure we were sane.
Shed our skin, with no way to know,
Where it would end or how it would go.

I trusted him, and he trusted me,
I helped him hear, and he helped me see.
Reason and fear, pleasure and pain,
That which must go, and which could remain.
Darkness and time, purpose and need,
The life that flows through this blood that we bleed.

Somehow the masses had gotten it so wrong,
But we took it well, and we played along.
Once they had finally seen what we’d seen,
They carved out their eyes and washed themselves clean.
Then they hung Jesus back on the cross,
And wept without eyes for their terrible loss.

Safe from reason, no need to fear,
Pleasure and pain were no longer near.
Now came their purpose, they’d fulfilled their need.
Of course they asked Jesus, and Jesus agreed.
He’d hang around, they’d carve out his eyes,
Covered in blood is a clever disguise.
And what about the masses as they sleep through the lies?
Together, never lonely, ascend into the skies.

Our fingers brushed in the gallery opening
not so long ago,
we were in a room full of art,
which only made me crave you more.

It reminded me of your hands,
finger-painting like a child using watercolors
onto my blank canvased soul filling in
every part of me that was missing colors.

Now, everything is in black and white.
When our fingers lightly brushed again,
I felt the flood of rainbows and stars rush back to me
before disappearing behind me, following you away.

Indigenous!
Belong, in place.
Eligible to be? (Unpaid)
Tracing comfort. (confronted)
Distribute all rawness.
Attribute all peace.
Abolish odd disturbances.
Against all odds, shadowing perspective.
Feeling at ease...  Just ME! (Relieved)
Canvased in dirt immersed in blood. (Rituals)
Unleash the royal beast.
Reveal all - ME. (Lead)
Smudged, focused on the challenge.
Do you see?
ME?

there's a reason we don't look back
because we most definitely don't need that
there's a reason we haven't relaxed
under the weight of steel tracks atop an overpass

and we've yet to stop running
and we've yet to stop deconstructing
we've concluded we can conclude nothing
a trick so tragically cunning

we've been tending to processes of the heart
pretending and mending images in your yard
posted up against the brick wall behind K-mart
where graffiti fades from concrete canvased art

there's a reason we don't look back
there's a reason we haven't relaxed

It was sticky hot and humid in Ferguson that Saturday.
Just another weekend where the little leagues would play.
I was riding unit 25 looking out for petty crime.
My units' radio sputtered to life: "shots fired on Canfield drive."
" Officer in need of assistance"

We just didn't arrive in time.

I recognized the body, my colleague and close friend.
Darren Wilson was shot six times, the last time in the head.
His service piece was missing. The shooter had fled the scene.
I called for a bus and backup and radioed what I had seen.
We then secured the crime scene as it drew a silent crowd.
Detectives looked for any clues and canvased the homes around.
No witness would come forward, either out of fear or dread.
"His new wife is now a widow." my disgusted partner said.
Darren face was badly bruised as he lay there in the sun.
I surmised he'd been assaulted in the struggle for his gun.
The coroner sighed and shook his head at the body on the gurney.
He'd perform an autopsy on my friend before his final journey.

The score was one dead man in blue, his murderer still free.
The streets that night were quiet, as I suspected they would be.
There was no public outcry at the killing that was done.
Blue lives never matter to a town like Ferguson.

Blood red,falling against the shadowed sky.
Amid, the blackened light it fell.
Canvased in darkens, extinguished  like a fire.
Its light gone,swallowed by the earth
A new shall come, in time.
Shall night fall, for morn I wait.

Thoughts abound in the whirlmill that is my mind

Fear, regrets, despair, anguish dominate

Devoid of joy and happiness, love nothing but a nightmare

Lost to the past i find myself bound



Forsaking love, never loving, fearing love

Hiding from, wanting to feel, absent love lingers and hurts

Longing to mirror my soul's reflection in my lover's eye

Bereft my heart in never ending fear



Always yearning, finding love never enough

Returning , giving my soul back, paralyzed me

Fearing a simple kiss more than death itself

Love meant it all, drowning from it, only getting closer



Delusions and false remembrances canvased my pain

Rejecting love thought me free

Landscapes of lies paint dreams never dreamt

Quest for intimacy and eternal love befallen reality

Unrelenting denial brought me to love

My heart opened to my soulmate

But she was not there

The sun's fierce beauty,pure and bright 🌻.
A masterpiece canvased, for all too see.
Illuminating the sky, with warm delight.
As it displays it's colours, with vibrant delight.
Hope renewed in it's, morning 🌄 light.
A fresh beginning, a wonderful sight.
The awesome beginning, of a brand new day.

The Zen Garden


Trivial Pursuit
Home Depot
Zen Garden ******  
Custom Design Water Relationship?

Frosted Flakes


To no
I approach
Hotly canvased increase
In despair
Joining
Lengthening the visit and
Friendly visit
Stilling the leaf
Exchange of ends
I the faltered respite
Atop a seasons young time
It, blind, endless spent rent of air
Below on end
I begin
In the sarcophagus of wasted treasure
It had wisdom and ran inwards
Leaf I became as rescued need

One middle path exits?

Deep earth
All 9 billion
And back towards Kali, Durga
Lord Shiva's rent to die? A wisdom
Is left described in such a vacinity
At the end of letters and awareness
Of the experiencing that meaning again
?

The new beginnings of Ganesha?
Words are in Hades
Quietly I have reason
Awakening in the next dawn
Less of my contribution of suffering
This without the gold

A brahmas Brahman etc
Is a roots pulse in a deep day
As a lonely sage bloom?

Perhaps a reward of a suffering
As a contemplation

An inner peace more?

After the tarnish
Undone in scatter
A mired filth
As tame nill quilt

Sonnets Before Surrender & The Building That Follows

The war refuses the head, below wasting in dead
Rearing the front as storms fell the timbers rot
Upheavals breast, shorn and filled in neglect
Lay useless she had cried, allow dimple and deny

Tis only folly we are joined from, seasons blurry
Contemptuous fury, theatrical brevity, lifeless
Burning misery, hasn’t all gone and come
Just so fiddle and spun, as garnish and lathe
Without soured breads fortune, and curled ears late

Forever they attend, a hearts creative bend
And rule they must, alas at lose in unbreakable crust
He in hand created this land, in tales of ferried rows
Gentled slave we musn’t hate, crucible’s labors as knave

In there buildings, craving and fighting, loud and obscene
Fruitful as flies, multiplying night skies
Crying babes of violence, unruly and brutal
Off again we should shout as they, steam filled hovels in suet



Narcissus was the inventer of the hot air balloon

I make new Japan flower to bring Irish blemish

They found me in French


Narcissus and tessellations
Her morning spent
In passions saint
Spilled buffoon
Mothered by noon

In stilled consequence
We arrived
Having been found
In upside down
Houred plaster
Confined in measure
Sill Aunt spill, deft of leverage



Tibet
A tid bit of distance from your remains.

Startled doors and war on floors.



Later eaves repair
After the tarnish
Undone in scatter
A mired filth
As tame nill quilt


Nirvana

Zazen
So I have caused no inheritance
I am suffering
As wisdom requests?
I am without a changed mind.
Having a buddhahood in a time
Is another rising mourning
Of another's regrets
To correct the objective

Zazen is popular excuse
Copyright © kevin mathenia | Year Posted 2025

You attempted reading and writing for
Yourself

kevin 2h
Grounds Resentful
In time of myself
I am bound
To forget another
Stroke of genius
Unfinished
Mute response

Only hear
Home
Body

Grounds Resentful


To no
I approach
Hotly canvased increase
In despair
Joining
Lengthening the visit and
Friendly visit
Stilling the leaf
Exchange of ends
I the faltered respite
Atop a seasons young time
It, blind, endless spent rent of air
Below on end
I begin
In the sarcophagus of wasted treasure
It had wisdom and ran inwards
Leaf I became as rescued need



Spindles rot in emptied locks
Bitten butter custards letters


This first piece is honest

“Its just the wild wests
We live through ‘em
And we let our love
         go out
And find another reason
       To bother us
        In the evening”


“See how the trees turn away?
And the streams hide?
How that teaches us to cover
Up during different times of
The year?”

“Well it does that so we,
Don’t get caught out in the hunt
Crawling up the side of a wrong
Angle on a hill competing
For scents when we have
Provisions at home”

“Might get caught by a large
     Guardian of a den your
    Not supposed to bother”









“Homes a nice thing to talk about
Aint it kid?”

“Guess so”

“Guessing is good, lotta guessing growing
Up out in the wild”

“Hang your coat up”

“Its a delicate job balancing a house”
A lot of work for a rough spell
Provision like this one you are”

“I got some extra portions to get
Us going and in a few days i’m
Taking us out to work the land
And add a couple rows to the aisles
For you”

“You feel up to that?”

“I don’t know”

“That’s fine, we in no hurry out here."


The second is poetic inference
An expression of remorse
Keeping sane during times degradation of Civility as finance wars upon modesty

To a Park
A country is carved
      Out of wild ideas
Beyond a dream
      In reasons unclear
Without hands held high
     Only a strings chance
Of getting bye

   A gift from songs
In living, holding ponds
  Such company was kept
And let out and down
       Our houses

Setting scenes
               Encouraged and dreamed
Envelopes and locales
      Terrific and trashed
A trial in errors, emptying time
    Movements silent, brief and divine

A departure of history
     Taking in with family
A surge in pride
      Gentle homes held at night

Sasha, hope this works