07
Nov
09

Poem- “Shhh.”

What is this thing? I think they call it a heart, but it’s barely beating and it hasn’t gotten me very far. As a matter of fact, I haven’t taken more than one step away from the broken human being I was four and a half years ago. The arteries are splitting down middle and capillaries have begun to burst. With this red-hot blood of love spitting and spinning everywhere, you think someone would slip on the spin art of my heart. But no, I stand too mature for the majorities and too small in physical form to get that double take. I could never truly apologize for not fitting in, but rather I have to thank you for being so pitiful and close minded, people. I am glad to live amongst the lost and completely corrupted.

And to those who look past my daunting emotionalism and slightly uneasy smile, the beautiful flaws in which only someone digging deep would ignore, you still aren’t very far but rather have just touched one of the hairs among this forever tan skin. And to those who get to dig a little deeper, I will forever have these walls of a castle so tightly secure and you can thank the blue-eyed, blond-haired nymphs in which I have had to endure for too long now. But I’ll never look back to them, not as much I look forward to you; the person who digs the deepest, putting my sureness of life on the brink of emotional base jumper status, bringing me to my knee with more than just diamonds but a throat full of song and what a beautiful one to sing.

Until there comes the day in which I can gently take the shovel from your hands, you beautiful thing who I’ll be so proud of, I will continue to secretly enjoy these moments of self loathing. More so, I will enjoy the fact that I can safely say no to anything I want with a smile gleaming so bright upon my face and that includes the drugs, the drinks, the sex, the thoughts of her, and the fear to follow. So quietly screaming into the drum of my ear; a fallen angel who’s own ear refused my answer to life. So quiet…the rustling of leaves as I drag it into the woods of my memories. So quiet; the sound of such potent liquid pouring amongst her disgusting pores. So quiet; the ash as it begins to rise, rebounding off the tips of branches as it climbs the pale air into the never-ending skies.

So quiet; my mind with you nowhere to be found.

-Mike Detelj


1 Response to “Poem- “Shhh.””


  1. November 7, 2009 at 1:37 am

    hear,hear. that is brilliant


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Statement

In my minds eye, the artistry I create is an experience like no other. They are a release, a coping skill, that enables me to contend with the world around me, and all of it's incompetence and failures. But foremost, they are a reminder of how beautiful life is, and how it should not be taken for granted. I admit that a taste of chaos lingers in the air and often the image is some what morose with a very straight forward title, not cutting any corners. However, that is because I believe the most beautiful emotions are the ones bottled up. My main influences come from the pivotal moments out of the few years I have been alive, including the admitting of myself into a mental institution, the death of my father and the actual realization of human weakness. I have a strong tendency to pick out flaws and upon the beginning of my release through painting, my flaws became apparent. I express my opinions of these flaws through my technique. The techniques and tools I use represent how I feel about myself, at times. In many paintings, dirt and oil may be apparent. These represent the amount of filth I feel towards my mistakes. I use a chisel instead of a paint brush because it is heavy and sharp, like the pain from the weight I feel on my shoulders. Most importantly are the feelings of desperation and anger, two huge parts of my life. Represented in any painting with torn edges, and uneven stretching with staples out of alignment, these “disasterpieces,” as I have come to call them, are very dear and very often I do not like them, but at the same time cherish them. They are a rarity and often contain emotion I  think I may never feel again.                         I do not like to label my art because that is like saying that this is the only type of art I create. I am also a musician, poet and short story writer in my free time. I have found, though, that painting gives me a sense of accomplishment unlike the feeling of being on stage. Painting gives me a feeling of consistency like no other. And for that reason, I choose to strongly represent myself throughout my paintings, rather than music and words which mostly are representations of my thoughts and feelings in an abstract form.                         My art should be what you want it to be, no matter what the title says it is. I only title them so I can remember the thoughts I was thinking of when I created them. And, to me, this is the beauty of abstract art. Take the title away and you have something your mind now controls.