Steph Davies: Words.

wake me up

shake the dust from my eyes

wake me up

you can even tell me all your lies

'cause I believe

most anything I'm told

when I was young

they told me you're already old

and I have seen

more than my eyes can hold

and I am always apologizing

for being much too bold

so hold me down

hold me low down to the ground

don't let me go

even though I'll tell you I won't run away

when I leave

paint my shadow on the floor

when I return, just tell me

you don't live here anymore

I'll say I've changed

I'll say I am not the same

but I can't be trusted,

there's always someone else to blame

and you'll say never

and I'll say all ways

I'll say never

and you'll say all ways

And we'll lose our footing once again

and we'll fall     down

And maybe this time,

we'll just stay there

maybe this time we won't be let down

and maybe this time,

we'll just stay here

maybe this time we'll keep our feet upon the ground

 

was reminded to revisit a piece of myself I'd left lying out in the cold

so as the air turns back in on itself, twisting the iron bars of summer

here I will write

more than before

filling in the gaps with alphabet blocks stacked high

swaying

ever so in the breeze

and if you want to string it all together

find some story hanging there

you're welcome to,

although it's forever being rewritten.

little treasures found in the back pockets of unwashed jeans-whispered in the places in between. remembering how it used to be because it feels like that again.  letting go of plans & ideas of how things should be because they already are the way they are.

"family killed by ninjas...need money for karate lessons"

sign seen.

an air-conditioned monday. serpico. pizza from the oven...& tomorrow...a day off.  will it storm as it is forecast to do? how many syllables in a haiku? more art than I have supplies for...

The lovely Garfield Park Conservatory in Chicago received terrible damage to it's roof during a hail storm on June 30th. This amazing space has always been a free refuge to the public & I spent a lot of time there when I lived in Chicago. To help pay for it's repairs I'm donating 30% off all of my online sales to the Conservatory starting now through August 15th.(through Etsy: http://www.etsy.com/shop/SDavi​esArt ) If you've thought of purchasing any art or jewelry, now's the time, you'll be supporting such a great cause!
To donate directly go here: http://www.garfield-conservato​ry.org/donate_online.htm
Thanks for your support!!!!

 

Also, I'll be starting up the mail art project again to also help raise funds for The Garfield Park Conservatory.  If you send $3 & a self addressed, stamped envelope for each piece of art work you want (4"x6" postcard size original drawings) I'll create an original illustration for you, a friend, a loved one...whomever you like! Just send $3 & an envelope (with the address of it's recipient plus enough postage to get it there) and you or the person of your choosing will receive some original mail art! No limit on how many pieces you request! $1 from every illustration will be donated to The Garfield Park Conservatory!!! Email me: stephdavies@stephdaviesartmusic.com for the address of where to send everything to!!!

Oh me Oh my-bought an inner tube & a fishing pole & spent the day in Pewaukee at the lake. 

Didn't catch a thing.

Found a little birdie dead in our path & decided to draw it back to life.

shaky hands, uneasy street.

Unease.

a state of unease. a roaming mob. a roaming senseless violent mob.  It defies all logic & explanation.  No use trying to reason with the unreasonable.  Shouldn't let them shake you (like a leaf).

Quaking. Shaking. Leave the light on.

fireworks in the sky & a waxing moon overlooking cemetary hill.

Twelve years ago today I lost a cousin.

Twelve years & a day ago I lost a grandfather-it's nice that with each passing year there are fireworks in their honor-a celebration of their lives.

Call of the storm...the wind is kicking up it's feet-sweeping through the street-wind chimes dancing to the beat.  will it rain or simply pour? Is this not a riddle? Will they sleep with clenched fists-shuddering through the night-or when the dust settles will the wind lull them into dreamless sleep-unaware of what they've done-the harm they've caused that even the wind can't sweep away.  Will they ever curl up-arms wound tight around their own heads-shoes coming at them in slow-motion-close-up-lightning-flash-daze speed...bruises forming in thier sleep. Or have they been there-once, twice, & then again-is that how they learned how? Were their shoes selected long ago?

Neil Young on a Saturday morning tuning into his phrases sung looking for hidden or blatant meaning "You're leaving here too soon" Everything has meaning. Drawing without lines.

we see only what we look at.

To look is an act of choice...Soon after we can see, we are aware that we can be seen.  The eye of the other combines with our own eye to make it fully credible that we are part of the visible world."

-Walter Benjamin, 1970

sweeping uneasiness under the rug.

rainy days of grey...new books to read & pictures to draw.

a new week beginning-the hour crawls slowly to ten on a sunday night-a sleepy haze creeping in-eyes heavy with the day.

I would like to draw a house.

all straight lines & architecture.

I would like to cut off my hair

& then grow it out long-

past my shoulders.

in that order-within a week's time.

why does it feel like I've fallen down whenever I come home?

If that's what you call this...here...this silent space between single-syllable-pauses.

my brother says home is where his stuff is. It has nothing to do with people.

My mom used to tell me my home should always be where she is-she is so familiar but too far away, in another world, long long ago.

I used to think home would be a person-but home can not be a stranger.

For now, the closest thing to home is a city where I don't have an address-

but one where I've had several.

How I long to go home again in every sense of the word I've ever come to know.

my heart is full here in this city where I first found myself ten years ago. It's like stepping back into an old familiar skin...not back in time, like "going back home" is being sucked into a black hole in the space-time continuum where you just feel stuck & completely lacking in all experiences you've had since then.  No, being back in Chicago is a returning, an "oh yeah...this is what it's like...I remember"-that pair of shoes or jeans or old jacket that's been worn in just right & you'll never throw it away, you'll wear it til it's thread bare and falls off on it's own.  Can I put this feeling in my pocket? Bottle it up & store it in my heart somewhere so I feel it always? So whereever I am becomes this home. Hold onto this smile & carry it home with me, pull it out & wear it once in a while.

"close your eyes, hold your breath, stay in one place all your life-you're still moving & the world is moving under you-there's no waiting"

-Robert Duvall, Get Low

Yesterday I took some of my hand-made jewelry & cards to The Hummingbird Boutique in Shorewood, Leslie, the shop owner is kind enough to let me display more than a dozen pieces of jewelry and 20 or so hand-made cards in her store!  You've got to stop in and check out all the amazing things they have on display, all items are locally made & many are made from recycled/refurbished wares. 

The store is located at 4415 N Oakland in Shorewood, Wisconsin

Check out their website to see more!!!

http://hummingbirdartboutique.com/

parked my car down where the birds sing...where the sound of traffic becomes a muffled memory...where you can almost reach an understanding of quiet.

I wait for answers that don't come-instead my mind is just flooded with more questions. What ifs & not enoughs.

The sun needs to shine.  I don't know how to be any smaller & still be heard.

I don't know a lot of things.

I don't know more than I do.

I know I have a love. A great love. A love I believe can conquer all.

I need a reprieve. A path to travel on. Something to feed my sould-to make me whole.

Graffiti on a bridge says "Have a wonderful day" Thanks, bridge.

Why birds?

Because they can fly away.

What can I do that will allow me to travel? To create.

It's time to find it & do it. To live more fully in a more satisfied way.

one more hour of daylight.

waking up in the dark.

snow melting & falling away.

waiting for the phone to ring.

money in the bank.

I'm in need of a thinner jacket.

shoes with no socks.

need gas in the tank.

miles on the road.

soles of shoes worn thin.

eating in.

an evening on the couch.

city skyline.

messing up the couch...

and my hair...

and yours.

tired eyes.

overheard:

"Homesick 'cause I no longer know where home is."

a case of the grumps

wrong side of the bed

grass is always greener

and it's growing

mow it down

and fly, fly away.

waiting on a locksmith

sore throat kicking away

broken keys & throbbing shoulders

I'm halfway between

here & there.

waiting on a train

a plane, an automobile

a good night's sleep

& a rested dream.

new job

new landscape

flying too close to the sun

paintings packed in car

ten pounds lighter

(at least)

first song of the day:

Blondie's "Rapture"

shoulders hang under

some whispered weight

(some chance of fate)

brush it off like snow

(let it go, let it go, let it go)

I don't feel buried

just left lying in the green, green grass.

the cold wind is blowin' in

the cold, cold wind is blowin' in

How I long to be home

where it's safe and warm

the cold, cold wind is blowin' in.