Addicts are spiritual seekers who don’t know it yet. Art is the pursuit of spirit. We’re here to overturn materialism. A society which forces artists to serve three course meals to materialists to pay for microwaved ramen, to wash dishes & chauffeur the rich in Ubers, is a society on the brink of collapse. Society’s killing us by not valuing us then blaming us for not having value. We exist to explore the metaphysical in a society that’s hellbent on materialistic orthodoxy.
Something keeps killing my friends
the artists, creators
Since I was a kid
The ones who keep reaching
keep dying
What is it that keeps killing them?
It’s easy to say “drugs” and “suicide”
and move on catatonically
Play fake wisdom
It’s much more difficult
to reach
for something else
We’re the ones
who keep reaching
We’re the kids who look up and say
“Am I good enough now, Dad?”
“Am I doing it right, Mom?”
No matter how we reach
We’re not what our family
wants us to be
We’re the ones
who keep reaching
We reach for community
“There a place for me here?”
“Am I good enough here?”
No matter how we reach
We’re not what our community
wants us to be
We’re the ones
who keep reaching
We reach into society
No matter how we far we reach
We’re not what society
wants us to be
That limp hand of Adam
on the Sistine Chapel
that’s the voice of family
that’s the voice of community
that’s the voice of society
We’re the ones
who keep reaching
We reach for each new day
We say, “today I will be the right version of myself”
“Today I will be what society
wants me to be”
“Today I will be what my community
wants me to be”
“Today I will be what my family
wants me to be”
Did our family ever consider
Did our community ever consider
Did our society ever consider
maybe we’re supposed to be
exactly the way we are?
maybe we weren’t born wrong?
maybe we weren’t born “ill”?
Maybe some people are born
to keep reaching
Those of us who reach adulthood
We’re the walking scar tissue
The bionic body parts
limping through timespace
Carrying the weight
of all we reached for in vain
Self-medicating
a prerequisite to survival
and the irony of early demise
Those of us who reach adulthood
tattered and torn
Nowhere out there left to reach
When we begin to reach
the other way
We discover the vigor
the will power
we learned through sheer pain
As we begin to reach inward
something reaches back
When we reach that way
there’s only one way to reach
When silence falls
the voice of family
When silence falls
the voice of community
When silence falls
the voice of society
Only one voice is left
It’s far beyond victimhood
It’s far beyond blame
It’s far beyond guilt, failure, shame
It is it’s own medication
There’s nothing to self-medicate
It’s a place beyond right and wrong
It’s the thing we were reaching for
all along
There it is
concealed in plain sight
The artist is the art
Concealed in the silent mind
Feet crossed in the illusory cerebellum
Only inches away
Who’s that reaching back?
Between the bionic eyes of the brain
One who keeps reaching
reaches Grace
Artist reaches through Agna