the original art of lou phinneystoltz

Poetry

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Psychological Noise

Dedicated to Ervin Jackson


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I am a man who writes poems, but would rather whisper when I read out loud psychological noise proliferates like notes a bad director would pontificate having stated nothing more nothing more What R U ThinkingAn actor who would rather stay out of the limelight while acting out a life A gamer with no game A quiet boy who likes to chat A painter with no paintings other than by numbers with primary colors and do no let those hues mingle with some softening blending could bring if but for psychological noise dancing like a puppet on a string could bring too many things yet unforeseen for all of us unless on my hands sit listening An agoraphobiac with narcissist tendencies yet have always listened quite well to me Either smart enough or dump enough to listening Tongue in cheek I would concede How fortuitous for you-you say and yet psychological noise is defining you, and making us, stare down at the screen while real life passes by fleeing Living in my art as if it were alive Time - Place - Expectations And when the bubble busts psychological noise is like killing myself to be heard and assured of that misunderstanding alone in my field with no sword nor a shield Looking in from the center of the group I am a somnambulistic day dreamer without a moments truth one step forward and two steps back Running after dreams running just ahead of me is here today and gone tomorrow and back to where I need to be Scream out-loud in self made harmonies towards your so called friendly whisperings your psychological babbling(s) are nothing more than deafening but as that noise employs itself into a crescendo against my soul . . . reality like a dialogue spoken as in monotone until my ears are soar noise exploding in standing up and running out knocking at your door or An artist with a legal eye A liberal with a stingy side A bald man with two hairs to dye Over fifty and still so vulgar and immature all-the-while fuck you screams outside my head, as pretty words form filling off the paper’s edge And all this noise outside my mind that leads me dead like a lump on a log or like a leopard with her spots ready to strike and so no-matter what conspirers inside of me, most assuredly, agree with glee that your noise is nothing more than the resounding chortle of a bark-less dog ever more ever more, yes, you seem to be nothing more than the resounding chortle of a bark-less dog on and on forever more. . .

Poem : Psycological Noise ©2015 lou phinneystoltz
Painting : In Order Descending
What R U Thinking? ©2009 lou phinneystoltz
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