Our selected artistic mind for this week is a current OSSM student who wishes to remain anonymous, and has chosen to write under the pseudonym "Jimmy Kenith." As such, these are a select few of his series of Personal Amusements.
0.
moth,
flittering under the glaring light.
What a spectacle!
1.
bright light!
creator of shadows
both still and alive.
2.
today, the sky is blue.
A blue hue.
A blue hue.
3.
bright sun;
piercing permeable oak leaves,
basking face in morning glory.
4.
Mendelssohn, floating from the open window.
Sweet, sweet Mendelssohn, floating from the open window!
5.
Cycling.
testing heart,
soul’s salvation!
burning sensation,
Bliss.
6.
Backstage I sit, square to my desk.
Thinking which mask, which mask would be best,
to amuse the sole spectator looking on,
sitting silently, in, the audience.
So many choices lay before me!
Hatred, Contempt, Confusion, Glee,
or the omniscient mask that trumps them all,
that mask, great mask, Invisibility.
After the show, he critiques the play.
He contents himself with words of pay.
But there were so many things he didn’t say.
So many things he didn’t, wouldn’t, couldn’t say.
7.
My mind has a mind of its own.
In my mind, it sits on a throne .
Looking across, the fertile landscape,
juggling seeds about to be sown.
Confusion, Content, Frustration, Joy,
the mind, the mind has them all!
It plants each seed, one by one,
till the seeds grow up thick and tall.
Each plant has its own growing season.
For each plant must grow for a reason.
But sometimes one shoots,
from its roots and refutes,
logical laws shielded from treason.
Oh mind in my mind,
cursed mind in my mind!
Why do you plague me so?
Why must you play,
with myself night and day,
and feed me such lamentable woes?
(I guess that’s just how I am.
I am what I am, am I not?)
If I try to be nice,
I’ll say “to life you’re a spice”
like cracked barley that’s found in white rice.
Cracked barley mixed into white rice.
8.
Convolution (A Dream or Dream) – or an futile attempt to earn a A.
From Personal Amusement
Jimmy Kenith 4-5-16
I am dirty.
For I am dirt;
black as the midnight sun.
black as the hole of darkness.
I see light,
I eat the light,
voluntarily;
and nothing stops the cars.
Are you playing a dicey game?
for the game is of dice,
and inherently a game. With Whom
do you play this Game?, This
Game of life,? of Dice?
Fine.
Maybe I am.
If I am, what odds exist?
Odds exist, but do they really?,
No. Probably not.
But practically,
Oh yes!, practically:
It is soon. Quite soon.
A heavy wager placed,
with heavy heart in hand,
and,
A soul of unpredictable feelings.
I remember the dreams.
Vaguely;
Oh so vaguely! (They’ve slowly
disappeared since)
Two dreams: precision preferred, please.
Two dreams: one of sickening giants,
giants of peaceful violence.
(I am not joking – peaceful violence).
Precursors of insanity,
Insanity about to ensue.
The other: surfacing balls,
Balls that surfaced, but never won.
Balls that surfaced, but always died (never won)
Balls that suffocated, balls surrounded by
millions of other balls. (different balls.)
I was the red ball,
the red ball that
never resurfaced alive.
The ball that suffocated.
The falling hammer. The falling hammer of
soft insanity. peaceful violence.
The giant falling hammer of
soft insanity and peaceful violence.
Is the description close enough?
Good enough, you say.
The deprecation, deprivation, desalination
of rest;
It opens mind’s barred doors
and throws the furniture… yes Throws!
the furniture, the future, into the flames of fire.
Flames of fire of emotion,
Emotion of cars…
A Great Bush stood before me;
Speaking his wise ways,
Telling his hatreds,
Enlightening us
with undecipherable chivalry.
Dogs are not allowed.
Remember that.
His leaves: so flush!
His trunk: strong and thick!
Despite His age: old.
His wisdom: beyond communication!
His beliefs: strong as the roots themselves!
Impenetrable fortress, permeable leaf.
Big words. Hollow words.
Disgusting, hypocritical,
hollow words.
I saw a dog the other day;
laughing dog.
A dog on suppressed espresso.
I looked at the dog;
the laughing dog,
and pitied the dog to tears.
(laughing dog to tears..)
What a dog.
Soft silence filled the air.
A static hum;
Peaceful oppression.
I sit in a chair;
the shady darkness envelopes
the air. The black air.
I look around,
although I can not not look.
The air, the Air!
The static hum reenters my ear.
I close my eyes and look up. Lean back.
There It stands;
Standing their.
Standing over me.
My heartbeat fights the hum.
The static hum,
which recedes to the heartbeat;
softens.
A flux of hum surges;
My neck strains,
My lips tighten,
for unspoken communion.
But It does not hear me out!
The hum continues.
Dense humidity fills the air;
The oppression ensues.
Something happens: for I know not what.
But something happens; things happen.
And I wake from my dream.
I am now in episode 5.
Episode 5 of,
Episode 5 of a BBC comedy.
The BBC Comedy of Life.
I then wake,
and I cry(:)
When will I (wake) sleep again(?
When will this dream (end) begin(?
Why can’t I just win,
win this once?
Just this once..
He stares at me.
His head turned sideways he asks,
“Why are you so childish?
“Why is It childish?
I don’t know, I answer.
I don’t know.
(But I do… Sure I do!)
He will unfortunately never know.
And I will laughingly never even know.
I think deep down, though;
Winning is impossible.
In this game.
This Game.
Winning is possible,
only if it is so.
(Else, it isn’t.)
“If you can’t win, what can you do?
the car asks me.
“Good question,
I reply.
Good question.
8. Salted Lime
I am a lime.
Laying on a white platter.
I am cut.
And sprinkled with Kosher salt.
The acerbic juices flow,
flow,
flow, onto.
The white platter.
Soon, the juices dry up,
leaving nothing but sticky hatred
And a sour lime husk.
9.
The evening lark sings its song
while I walk by (in wonder).
The midday storm shakes the earth
with piercing dew (and thunder).
The morning rooster wakes the sheep,
and out my window I take a peep,
looking on (asunder).
Past the hills (down under).
10.
A moral compass swings about,
freely in magnetic field.
Trapped in directional void.
A sensitive thing, it truly is;
Spontaneous respondence to big and small.
Change; this way and that.
11.
What has caused me to desire it so,
the truth beyond the truth?
The poisonous foe has gripped my soul;
why can’t I fend it away?
I have prophesized impending destruction.
Farwell, blissful life.