I'm like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
well-rounded,
other times
dull or
occasionally
broken.
Still I write.
j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.
Month: May 2018
PEACE love PEACE love PEACE
LOVE peace LOVE peace LOVE
PEACE love PEACE love PEACE
LOVE peace LOVE peace LOVE
all you want – all that you need
PEACE love PEACE love PEACE
LOVE peace LOVE peace LOVE
PEACE love PEACE love PEACE
LOVE peace LOVE peace LOVE
wishing you a disproportionate
amount of everything you need
05/19/2018 j.g.l.
Posted on May 18, 2018 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment
Of course you’ve got things to do; we all do. Every damn day, all those duties and responsibilities come at us from all directions, in every facet of our lives.
We’ve got to work to keep up with the bills, and with that comes the tasks, duties, chores, reports and a crisis (or three). In between all the multitasking, and devoting the required attention to family and relationships, we also try to get around to the creative endeavors that give us meaning above and beyond everything else in life.
We set expectations, unrealistic or not, we try to adhere to as we squeeze in work on our projects in fits and starts, cramming in as much of this ‘artistic freedom’ as we can. It gets to the point where we end up working to the deadline instead of simply allowing the creative process to flow.
There is certain frustration as something we thought could happen becomes lost in the attempt to make it happen. It’s not that we are not putting in the time, we are simply concentrating on the time instead of the craft.
Step back.
Art needs space.
Give yourself the space to create and let it take its own time.
Don’t rush it.
Art does not punch the clock. Art needs to unfold in its own way; you cannot force it. Creativity has no deadline, why should you?
Take the time, it’ll all be fine.
05/18/2018 j.g.l.
Posted on May 17, 2018 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment
The shifting landscape
within our grasp, shoe-shine paradigm
of yours and mine, has got to change.
Little by little by little by little
spoken truth used, raped, abused.
Time heals no wounds (rarely)
within the politics of emotions.
No sacred cow, not here not now,
askance, perchance, how will you know,
you know (all too well), you know
step by step by step by step
rhythm obscured by what is heard.
Hike up the skirt, a little wiggle
in your walk won’t hurt.
They won’t know what isn’t there,
yet I don’t care. Of course I’ll watch, I
always do. We’ll both reveal (a little more)
bit by bit by bit by bit
it comes with trust, it may, it must,
go beyond all the bruises you feel when
one suddenly loses what is real.
© 2018 j.g. lewis
Poem Kubili
CASTING SHADOWS
poemkubili.com
