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| Absolutely no portions of the artwork on this page may be used, reproduced, or copied in any way without expressed, written permission from the artist. Failure to comply will result in legal action. All artwork, prose, and poetry (unless otherwise noted) is copyright © 2007 Jorge Gonzalez. |
| THE MANY SHADES OF JORGE GONZALEZ POETRY |
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| ''His Story'' Written by George Gonzalez Act I. "It's Hard Isn't It" (Introduction) It’s hard isn’t it? To swallow something as angry as violence To let steel razors carve the insides of my mind To make you laugh and judge so effortlessly It’s hard isn’t it? Sitting here, dieing my daughters melting clocks It’s hard isn’t it? So please, please, please, join me, and limp for awhile So you can understand why I’m ashamed of my life So you’ll know what it’s like to have to lose It’s hard isn’t it? Laying here, executing my favorite hues as they water down It’s hard isn’t it? Knowing you have to give up somebody you love Knowing no matter how hard you try to change, she’ll love somebody other than you Knowing everything you stand for means absolutely nothing It’s hard isn’t it? Being here, not stopping the artist’s faded grays and blues It’s hard isn’t it? Just to cringe and hide everything you feel, for the sake of her and them Just so I can be so easily replaced and drink this wine of failure Just knowing despite everything, I can’t make her love me back It’s hard isn’t it? To cover me, cover them, cover her, and cover him It’s hard isn’t it? Yes, it is. It hurts to lose. It’s hard to move on. So, with that said; I must digress My daughter’s clocks are melting again Our favorite hues are being watered down as I execute The artist can’t stop the faded grays and blues Act II. "Hello Blue Sky" the faded grays and blues faded grays faded blues backtrack steps he took to worlds he knew gone and true were so far and blue swallow something as angry as violence and let our freedom sing Wake up to sunshine and chirping birds Greet the blue skies and be thankful Smile to thy neighbors and family There are no frightened people here, sir Live the best life and pray to god Give those less fortunate, and assist those in need Help thy friends and animals There are no falling bombs, sir They aren’t afraid, sir Those are not bombs, sir Nothing bad ever happens here, sir Don’t dance in the rain and night Stay inside and do not come out to see Here you play and be happy There is nothing to worry about, sir Know everything is fine and dandy Hide from anything threatening and scary Play in the sun and dread the moon There is nothing wrong with that, sir They aren’t enslaved, sir Those are not soldiers, sir Nothing of the sort comes here, sir Think of the positive and not the negative Create love with family and count thy blessings Pray to Jesus and his older brother There are no such things as monsters, sir Read the gospel and disregard a scientist Kiss thy brother and thy daughter a happy night Ignore all pain and fall asleep at night There is nothing to fear and nothing to cry for, sir so let me sleep for now so I can get on with everything I love let dream my pretty dreams of this world I know so here and true to me Act III. "Critiques of Failure & Accepting Them" But don’t you see, but don’t you see Your friends never lift a finger for you My acrylics are constantly changing for the world Designs of distortion, dull browns and silent yellows Can’t hide from what really makes you gasp Wrath, rage, ire that little bleeding, beating fist why must i fight for the dishonesty you speak if it is all lies my life is perfect stop talking to me i do not need this But don’t you see, but don’t you see Your enemies will die trying to kill you My friends never changed for me, us, and him I always change for them, they, and her Critiques of failure, blacken dishonesty and tired secrets Relentlessly slits what does not belong to me Pause, stop, interrupt your small choking, thumping wrists i do not believe you speak insanity and corruption you fools you all are not just leave me alone you speak lies there is nothing more But don’t you see, but don’t you see Your Black Knight is a work of fiction, my boy My intend was to make you believe in me, you, and sin You rest so easily on your pillow for nowhere, no one, and nothing Stop ignoring the signs of our, you, and his collapse drain, end, kill your petty, wounded, rebel heart Act IV. "My Heart, It Has No Place" your petty wounded rebel heart petty wounded rebel heart wounded rebel heart rebel heart heart heart My heart It has no place in this society It has no place in this population It has no place in this order It has no place in this establishment It has no place in this institute It has no place in this government It has no place in this planet My heart It has no place in my absent lovers home It has no place in my absent lovers mentality It has no place in my absent lovers attention It has no place in my absent lovers fuck It has no place in my absent lovers exquisiteness It has no place in my absent lovers lust It has no place in my absent lovers heart My heart It has no place for this kind of rhyme It has no place for this kind of affection It has no place for this kind of art It has no place for this kind of god It has no place for this kind of insanity It has no place for this kind of world It has no place for this kind of love for this kind of love this kind of love kind of love of love love love Act V. "My Love. Always, Forever, & Never" “My love”, said the boy Is everything thy been hearing Is everything thy been listening To, just a star Just a song Just a note Composed by everything I have ever longed for My love Is thou interpretation Is thou explanation Of art, Just an image Just an illusion Painted by nothing I have ever lived by My love Is it thy day Is it thy night To leave Just for an answer Just for a mark Created by a rebel yell that has never been heard My love Are thou never ending wrongs Are thou never ending scars In the politics Just our masks Just our blood Sculpted by a warlord who was unaccounted for My love You know thy certainty You know thy honesty Of thou existence Just a letter Just a goodbye Birthed by a woman yet stolen by a man My love You know thy can’t stay You know thy must leave To a town of Just choice Just liberty Constructed by sincerity, loyalty and affection For one another My love His story needs him To leave you Which is fine, Because you’ve already left him A long time ago “I will be back” he says to her Because I love you Always, forever, and never My love Act VI. "Look What I've Built" The sky tackles him down, holding his fractured body Hands and chests smothering, his wooden body Despite the resentment of colors, he reaches upward A restless silhouette of arms and knives swallow him Despite the agonizing battle, he reaches over them His wooden, dented arm, it holds a gift to the world No figure of dream, could slash his poetry down He is a deformity. And like God and The Black Knight, a non entity “Look what I’ve built.” He said. “Look what I’ve built.” He said. “Look what I’ve built.” He said. “Look what I’ve built.” Shortly after, the storm of violence covered him. Such a non entity. He was heard. His cries fell hard on his attackers. It shook the world, and for that, he was killed. Without a reason, without an explanation A haunting, freighting painting of a world engulfed in hurt, and molested by war A scream one will never hear. A world an individual will never understand. An asylum that exists, but only a non entity can tell The Narrator, in the aftermath steps back The messenger, goes up to him The Narrator, startled, says not a word. The messenger, the oldest son of God, says to him “It’s hard isn’t it?” Act VII. "It's Hard, Isn't It?" (Climax) The Narrator, frightened, understands. “It’s hard isn’t it?” To swallow something as angry as violence To let steel razors carve the insides of my mind To make you laugh and judge so effortlessly It’s hard isn’t it? It’s hard isn’t it? So please, please, please, join me, and limp for awhile So you can understand why I’m ashamed of my life So you’ll know what it’s like to have to lose It’s hard isn’t it? It’s hard isn’t it? Knowing you have to give up somebody you love Knowing no matter how hard you try to change, she’ll love somebody other than you Knowing everything you stand for means absolutely nothing It’s hard isn’t it? It’s hard isn’t it? Just to cringe and hide everything you feel, for the sake of her and them Just so I can be so easily replaced and drink this wine of failure Just knowing despite everything, I can’t make her love me back It’s hard isn’t it? It’s hard isn’t it? Yes, it is. It hurts to lose. It’s hard to move on. “So, with that said; I must digress.”, said the Narrator An old siren of anger engulfs the sky. That familiar sound of sorrow is heard in the distance. Act VIII. "The Beginning of the Ending" My daughter’s clocks are melting again Our favorite hues are being watered down as I execute The artist can’t stop the faded grays and blues Cover me, cover them, cover her, and cover him But I tried, you see I really did I try to tell her that, but his illness says otherwise Cover him, cover her, cover them, and cover me Your Christianity saw right through my C minor Like the Marfans in my frail frame I must take back, and do right what I have failed to do Cover me, cover them, cover her, and cover him The narrator can’t look himself in the eye Afraid, he’s lost all hope in his syndromes of heroin Thin hands of sadden talent are never coming back Cover king, cover sin, cover me, and cover death The mountains are cold this evening, a perfect twilight 1, 2, destroy the terminal illness that infests her veins Like Peg Entwistle, my art will bloom once more Cover dream, cover light, cover god, and cover world Stand on the face of what you built, my friend No one is watching Nobody will listen, and secretly, you like it that way Cover cry, cover nothing, cover mistake, and cover me To survive something as angry as violence One needs to dream of brighter days, and get what they want And so the boy will conceive his ending with a 1, 2.. Poem © George Gonzalez |
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