Fight The Dawn
An Abstract Legacy

Sonnets

Ever Vacant Allusion

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I’ve often wondered if I’d be happier
If you were not a mindful memory.
Erase the vow I made to you in fear,
Which casts my love to a false forgery.

My stalwart defense, eroding of late
As images of you do haunt my mind.
The burgeoning nightmares do correlate
To all the inner thoughts I bear unkind.

O! Empty sleep, how I did once love thee
And long to languish in thy dark embrace.
But shadows in thy night do now haunt me,
A portentous rest filled with her fair face.

No other promise do I hope to break
Save the one to you I made by mistake.

Sonnets

Sonnet One-Twenty Terrible

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For within structure is where my mind lies
Exploring Order and all its device
Rejecting Chaos and all it belies;
A false image presented to entice.

I have long since forgotten who I am
Left solely to pretend with my face masked
Utterly ashamed her only demand
A glimmer of light to my dark contrast.

O, I have lived a lie all of this time.
My words and actions falling short again.
Containing within no essence divine,
No spark, no flame, no real truth to live in.

Follow the truth that you see in your heart
And wistfully away from me depart.

Ramblings

C – W

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Calming clouds cover chaotic chorus
Demanding deepening denouncement.
Encircling emerging enlightenment.
Fixated ferociously forward for
Gruesome greed, germinating
Her heinous harrowing horror.
Indulging in incessant insanities,
Join judgingly joyous, justifying
Knavely knackered kindred.
Losing lauded luster. Leaving
Morose, melancholic meaning—mastered
Namely near nothingness.
Of orderly onslaught overcoming
Poignantly powerful poise-positions.
Quickly, quietly, questioning
Righteous reverence. Restricting renewed
Struggle. Severing seeming success.
Tearing truth towards the tortous
Unknown. Upholding unbelief unto
Vicious vernacular, venerating
Worthless words with weightless wit.

Acting

The Edge of Disillusionment

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Losing faith and belief in oneself is dangerous. It births a whole void that festers and breeds doubt—leading to anger, frustration, jealousy, envy, and wanting to tear others down; rather than lifting them up. It kills creativity—it kills all art within. Disillusionment is hell for the actor. It is also the nature of the business. It is a corrupting force that has no place in an artist. yet, is it something we will face endlessly.

If I do not master control over myself in this regard I will fall into a pit I cannot drag myself out of. I am my own worst enemy in this regard and harder on myself than anyone else could ever be. Which is good and bad. I walk this razor’s edge. One step from an artist’s death and one step from greatness.

Here I lie, I’m staring at, the doubts and questions, of my mind.

Sir Winston Lear

I flatten myself to make it easier to swallow failure. I cower in the shadows for fear of touching the light to only have it taken away. I castrate myself emotionally to not have to face the ugliness inside. All this fear only serves to fulfill this self-fulfilling prophecy. “Better is it to have risked everything and fallen short than to have never risked at all.” Only cowards hide in the shadows. Those timid and tepid souls that will never touch the light or experience the highs.

The doubts are further obstacles to conquer—that is all. My road always continues forward: there is no “failure” that causes a dead end. Even if there was I would claw my way through the brush to clear a new path. There is no fear of failure because in truth there is no such thing. Failure is a lie I have invented to excuse my playing it safe.

Acting

Reposed Requiem

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Coursing the winding roads of this path I have embarked, I often find myself at an impasse. Not for lack of opportunities, as it is usually upon a juncture of new paths that divert across this rolling landscape that I find myself halting. Rather it is because I am struck by mine own reflection.

I often avoid my reflection, bypassing; streams and lakes, mirrors and windows, and even the light emanating from the souls of those I come across. Not wanting to see myself reflected back in all it’s truth and darkness. The hardest test is facing myself.

But it is in these moments of seeming repose that I am forced to look myself directly in the eye and behold all that I have tried to run from. The paths laid out beside me wait in quiet stillness; blocked off unnaturally by the cascading confrontation I am locked in. I cannot look away and I cannot continue until I have dealt with what is before me.

I want to strike out and break this unblinking mirror…but I cannot. I want to tear my eyes away and run far away from this land…but I cannot. I want to destroy everything that I am to dispel the illusion that is before me…but I cannot. I must regard, acknowledge, and attest to everything that I am. I must learn to accept and forgive.

This is not the first time, nor will it be the last. This is part of the journey I have chosen to embark on. Some instances have passed in mere moments, others days, and some have prolonged for months. And while I find myself stuck here today I know that some day tomorrow I will continue forward. As well that even though my feet are motionless in this current melee I am progressing still.

For on the other side I find more humility, greater love, and a deeper connection to the growing world I encounter throughout my travels.

For the present my eyes are locked inwards to my soul and I stare down to the full depths within.

Acting, Dreams, Ramblings, Truth

Life Was Simpler

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I started out with a quiet dream of flying, sailing the winds as the sun warmed me to my conflagrant core. Coursing through these precipitous clouds, feeling the damp dew drift along the edges of my face; outlining the fractal details in an iridescent display of colour. Alone amid the barrier between space and earth, not beholden to one or the other.

I wasn’t a horse in the running. I could slip by unnoticed; no mention of my name. My thoughts weren’t overladen with process or prospects. I could write freely in a flow that formed effortlessly on the blank canvas of my mind. Before it was blotted, torn, and smeared by these dyspeptic years.

Even then the red brick loomed over me but it wasn’t a wall to fight against. It was a place to rest beneath. A friend to block out the harsh sun; a shadow to give respite not an enemy out of spite.

Now my mind is too full while my soul feels the earth’s pull. I stare up at the sky, closing my eyes, and all I can do now is try and remember what it was like to fly. The bright iridescent colours have dulled to gray as my thoughts begin to fray. I used to pretend that all the world was a stage. Now I am locked hopelessly away in knowledge’s cage.

Sonnets

Poem for a Painter

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The all encroaching black has finally won
With only red spilled out amidst the floor:
To be the Stain, the Mark, of all passion,
Which we who view, want after, only more.

From Light to Dark we see the growing storm;
Torrential floods which plague the Artist’s mind.
What we all face from our first breath when born;
A reason to live we can’t seem to find.

O! Yes, the dark ink has taken you home
And now we only see you through your works,
But they have inspired works of my own
And countless more which hidden inside lurk.

And without you they would never see Light
But your inspired Courage gives them flight!

Sonnets

I Hate Poetry

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Underneath all the tears that I do shed
I will always find my way back to you.
For deep down dark inside of this bowed head
Grow machinations to subvert rescue.

For the entirety of my lost life
I have wanted to be a memory.
Cold calloused collateral of calm strife;
An accident of mental history.

But now I am hanging on by a thread
Pushed firmly to the brink of extinction.
The thought that circles round inside instead;
Could I have lived a life of distinction?

Of all the lies that I have said I lived
The current path will be the most abridged.

Acting, Truth

Dead and Gone

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This will be the end of me as you know it. They want to control me, misdirect me, use me, and abuse me. They infiltrate my mind gaslighting the memories they find, taking hold as they force me to sink into the fold. I’ve fought for far too long, embroiled in this conflict since I saw my first dawn. I’ve grown too weak to continue being the vanguard against what they so surreptitiously seek.

The memories I bury deep inside are the prime prize they want me to provide. I’m losing you. I lost you so softly in those quiet moments decades ago but now even the memories of you must go. This suit of armor is as much a part of me as what they think they will withdraw from within. Searching for the true part of me: the folly of fools.

Strip away the scales that surround this soul and you will find what I have always foretold: nothing within. Not an atom with any resemblance to Adam. What you will find will be something new and different and you will laud him. You will find exactly what you were looking for. He will be your dream, your champion, and maybe even your savior. He will be whatever you wish him to be, and he will smile and let you in. He will give you everything, but it will be pretend.

Because the travesty of truth is through this transformation the me you so desperately desired will have died.

Sonnets

Sonnet 72

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Awake my Soul and see the pressing Lie,
In which we hold so deeply trenched inside,
The thoughtless drivel we use to get by;
Has left Forsaken everything we tried.

A wish to gather up this heartless dust
And watch it sail amidst the winding wind.
A fleeting heart in simple cedar trussed
To be dismissed along with all his kind.

O, lest you should so falsely keep intact
The truth to which this wanton willow waxed;
Depart good Sir and never turn your back
To catch a glimpse of all that which has lapsed.

For nothing of such worth within I hold
For any story of mine to be told.

– Sir Winston Lear