Being true to my art in a literary style means that the surrealism from automatism and automatic writing can be seen perhaps as avant-garde to some and art to others; but in general is beyond the pale of most and so is dismissed as mindless drivel or some psychedelic overload. What is art? I will leave the observer to appreciate or not what they find here for themselves...
The next thing I knew that came at me from the other end of a down much later was something I couldn’t get out of my head around what I was whirling, so I came up with a replacement and set it in place to guide me at another point in time that I just knew I’d come upon sooner or later; a bit like a plan really; but when I investigated it a little bit closer it didn’t shine, so I let it go and carried on.
I was trying too much to feel where I’d been before to make it alright again in the stopgap losses; but it was alright, I was coming at it from another point in the soul groove of the thing; and what the hell, I was just hanging around for the end anyway and making my way at the same time.
Incrementally as I was losing it I came across the blues that cheered me up until the down came again; and going down again I was the legendary hero and sang my song to the end and never looked behind me, not once; well maybe once or twice a few times here and there when nobody was looking, just to see if I was heading in the right direction like, but had to duck suddenly to avoid a bit of this and a bit of that that came at me asking questions.
A cinematic version of this can be found in any dark alley you could ever walk past was what I gave as my version of this to the inspector at the gates; and he believed me too and gave me a ticket to a seat anywhere I could find that intrigued me and was empty.
When the movie was over I got up and walked out into the light and left all the stopgap losses behind…
Images from Pixabay
