Artist ( A Monologue)

by tiffanymonologuePosted on 8 Comments

writing

I want to boldly tell you; I am an artist. I’m sure you already knew that or at least suspected. I mean how can anyone really hide their creativity? I know I’ve tried to hide or ignore my creative side, wanting to be normal. I yearned for a quiet mind that could simply observes the world and did not have a need to share its beauty.

Yes, there was a time I wanted to be normal, but not any more. An ordinary life in no life for me and if it seems like my life is just like yours ask me what I’m thinking about. For you see I have worlds and universes living in my head. My mind is filled with lands of poetry, worlds of paintings, and many stories in many different universes. They are all just waiting to be created.

When I am at my day job tapping the keys of my computer part of my mind may be trapping dragons to get to the keys of a prison to rescue some royalty. While I’m driving home I am most likely also involved in an elaborate love affair that will tragically end  when I park my car. If I am watching the sunset I am also memorizing the colors in hopes that I could paint it one day.

You see my mind is not a quiet place most of the time, which now I love. It makes my life extraordinary in an ordinary world. This is why I must boldly tell you; I am an artist. I’m sure you already knew that or at least suspected.

UPDATE

A while ago I did record a reading of this monologue. I want to share it with you now.

Kitty's Monologue

by tiffanymonologue, my creative selfPosted on One Comment

writing

Kitty is a character in my novel, who can not talk. She finds different ways to communicate and share knowledge. There is a lot to her, but she can’t always get that across. This monologue is an internal monologue taking place inside Kitty’s mind to Noah, one of the other main characters and the person she is closest to.

I do hear you. I do understand you. I do deserve my position. I really do and I know you know I should be where I am. I just wonder if the others think I belong. Sometimes I know that I don’t, but then you look at me and I belong. Your brother seems hard and protective of his mission. He can’t see that it is my mission too.

I am locked inside my mind. I wish I could just tell you and your brother. Really I wish I could tell everyone what is happening inside. It is like the neural pathways  connecting my voice and thoughts are missing. With every trauma or change they are erased and I must relearn how to make sounds that would be considered words. To make matters worst my memories are misplaced. They are not lost, just misplaced. This makes it hard even know what I know. All my memories are intact, but they are hidden from me and it seems like just when I find a memory or way to connect my vocal cords and thoughts together they are erased or jumbled up.

I hope you understand that I am doing my best. Your smile makes me think you know, but how? I never know until I start reconnecting things. Maybe that is why you’re with me; to help me remember that I am not permanently broken just different with misplaced memories.

Hopefully one day I will get to thank you. Hopefully one day everyone will understand. I am smart and I am worthy of helping. It may be a long time, but I do hope.

I hope you like this and if you follow my blog you will learn more about the characters of  Duality, since I am pretty focused on it. At least I am trying to be really focused on it. 

Inside Thoughts

by tiffanyPoetryPosted on One Comment

writing

 

The words are bubbling. They are brewing. I once danced with them on the beach with the setting sun. Now the moon reigns and the words are a mush of over cooked strew. They are just bubbling and brewing no longer dancing in my mind.

The beautiful melody of fantastic descriptions and deep pondering has left my side. I now sit wishing and wanting for the words I needed to say to arise again. I wait for them to dance out of the sludge like stew that is now taking over my mind.

Tiredness slows down my thoughts and the need for sleep mixes all of them together. At sunset with the cool breeze whispering words to me, my mind was perfectly poetic as it pondered a pure poem.  Now only random ramblings can be rattled off as the stew thickens and traps the dancing melody of the pure poem inside.

Bury Deep (A Poem)

by tiffanyPoetryPosted on One Comment

poetry

I battle with you
as if the war was needed;
as if I had no feet to stand on.

You tear me down
and I let you,
and I feel defeated.

You whisper awful thing
like I’m not really loved;
like I cannot stand on my own

My heart and happiness is real
but you tell me to ignore it;
but you tell I’m ignorant.

You know my every weakness
and you use it for my harm,
and you use it to keep me down.

But I am strong,
stronger than the war you wage
the defeat you push
the hateful whispers
and stronger than your lies.

I know if you were anyone else
I would push you away
spit in your face
or just turn my back.

If you were anyone else
I would be stronger,
but you are the little voice
the one the is buried deep
trying for weakness to keep.

I can not spit in your face
or turn my back.
I can not push you down
or choke you out.

Yet, there is this little box
it has a lock.
You little voice can go in that
and be buried very deep.

Where you say I’m a fatty
I choice to see a beauty.
Where you see hurt
I see my healing.
You see struggle as failure
I see it as a lesson.
Where you see loneliness
I see self-love.

So go in your little box
and I lock you up.
I will bury you deep
because your lies I don’t want to keep.

If I see you (A Poem)

by tiffanymy creative self, PoetryPosted on No Comments

writing

If you read this
I hope you know who you are.
If you know who you are
I hope you believe this.
If you believe this
I hope you read this through.

I want to tell you
my mind can get filled
with images of you,
hopes of the future,
fears kept by the past,
and memories of a different life.

My mind tells me things
about you
about me.
It shouts that when I see you,
if I see you,
when we are face to face
I will shout at you
yell hateful things
let you know where you stand
where my heart is.
My mind tells me
I hate you
I am angry towards you
you never deserved me.
Rage builds up so easily
like a red hot fire
that burns my soul.

My mind tells me things,
but I am not just a mind.
My heart also speaks.
She whispers, no.
I will hug you
and tell you you are my friend.
I have forgiven you
and I have forgiven me.
The hurt is only a memory.
My rage does not burn,
not in my heart.
I will pick up the pieces
of the friendship once lost
and show you that I see
how good friends we can be.

You see I have my life
and you have yours.
I once told you friends we’ll be
and I promise you in my heart
friends we will always be.
No matter what happens
or what the time may bring.
I promised you friends we are
and I really believe
we will be friends
now and forever.

So, if we meet again,
please know,
you are my friend
even if you have long let me go.

Timed (A Poem)

by tiffanymy creative self, PoetryPosted on No Comments

poetry

 

Time me as I tell a tale.
One that takes travelers
to towns untold of
or towers that torn down.
I will tell you timed tales
or tackle a tangled tango of words.
Only using ten tiny minutes of time
my timed tales or tangled tangos
should tell you of terrific feelings
or twist your tongue
till it is its own tangled tango.
Yes, I will tackle and taken down
this twisted tangled tango
and leave the telling of tall tales
to one with more time,
since I only will take ten to write.
Ten minutes to tangle up
Ten minutes to tear down the tango
and leave only a trace of the tale
of travelers taken to a town
or was it that they tackled down tall tower?
Tell me which tale did I tell
in the time before now?
Either way, we and tackling this twisted tango
at least our talented tongues can tackle
the twists and turns taken
with this tangled mess of twisted words
that would turn daytime into twilight
if you took the time to analyze.
For you see you would need
tons of twine to tie logic into this tango.
Simply put this is all but a timed tango
only to see how talented a twisted mind can be
when timed to write a tall tale using mostly T’s.

Sale (creative rant)

by tiffanymy creative self, other updatesPosted on No Comments

writing

 

I am not for sale but you can by small pieces  of me. My body, heart, and soul are only mine. You can not buy or bid on them. Yet, I will bleed for you. I will bleed out all my creativity. I will happily give you all of my mind as long as I know where to find it at the end of the night.

Yes, I will give my all to give my art, but you will never buy my heart. I will bleed for you because my love will never end. Still no money and no treasure will be set to claim my very self. I will give you every piece of me and some times those pieces will be free. However, those pieces are the things I can spare, those bits are what needs to come out.

So thank you for collecting the things that I shed, but please know I am not for sale.

 

What do you artistic people think? Is that how you see selling your art? It was a random creative rant, so I don’t even know what I think.

A Creative Writing Experiment About Nothing

by tiffanymy creative selfPosted on No Comments

writing

I will write about nothing. Nothing is what I will write about, but what is nothing except the lack of what you want to be. Perhaps I will write about everything instead of the nothingness that I run from.  The nothing that is dark and cold from lack of heat and light. Why would I write about the things that could be considered nothing. Nothing is in fact nothing that I want to write. I will not write about nothing. Nothing is not what I will write about, but I will write about everything instead.

Yes, I will write about everything in my mind. I will jot down notes about  my phone turning off, if only for the night, about conversations with groups of friends, and about people being bagels in a tired mind’s dreams.  I will think about what I write as the words are typed, not wishing to edit the words on the screen. I will only write and write I will. Yes, I will write about everything in my mind.

Let me fly away on the great big plane that is called my mine, so that I can dream about all the lovely things that come from the nothing being left behind. Who left this nothing, this hole for me to find and can I fill it up again with all the things that it lacks. I will shine the light of consciousness in the dark corners to go exploring into the depths of the unknown, like caves in a familiar mountain that was always left alone. I will fill the holes up with my thoughts, with ideas of love and of what I believe about being home.

I will write about nothing. Yes, I will write about everything in my mind, so let me fly away on the great big plane that is called my mind.

Play on (A Poem for musicians)

by tiffanymy creative self, PoetryPosted on No Comments

writing

Let the music play on,
sing your song out,
make the notes dance
out the throat
through your mouth.
Let your words paint music
with your instrument in hand.

You music is a beautiful painting,
so paint on the air.
You songs are a sweet aroma
to my mind,
or like a light shining into my soul.

So play on,
sing on,
and keep on creating.
Keep on sharing.
Let my life be filled
with the music within
your mind,
your heart
and your soul.
Play on
and let me hear
that sweet melody,
your beautiful rhythm
and that soul that shines from the deep.

Let the music play on,
You music is a beautiful painting,
So play on.

Stop (A Poem)

by tiffanymy creative self, PoetryPosted on No Comments

poetry

 

Dear mind,
dear dreaming self,
please stop.
You are walking
at it’s a dangerous path.
I see the briers.
I see the holes,
pit falls,
stumbling blocks
and thorns.
I can tell
where all this thinking,
where all this dreams,
and wishing will lead.
It is clear as a day
without a cloud in the sky
and I am wearing new, clean glasses.
The briers are crisp
and the thorns are bright.
The holes contrast the beauty of the light
the pit falls are almost shouting
with their daunting blackness.

The warning signs are hung
and they are direct,
so mind please stop,
dreaming self wake up.
I know where this is going.
I have been down this road,
journeying around this area,
too many times before.
I have walked to the end of the road
nearly falling off the edge,
so mind please sleep
and dreaming self turn off.

You need to stop,
before you fall into the hole.
Desist unless you trip
into the dark pit falls that are around.
Resist even thinking about the flowers
their steams are thorns.
Turn around before the briers get you.
Mind, please I have had enough.
Dreaming self it is all a dream
one which you control.

Please, self, turn around,
in your mind,
walk down another path.
Do not journey down
the path meant for two.
Do not go on the road
when you are alone.

Thank you.