This New Boy

This new boy believes.
He believes in something out of reach,
his malcontent for fine,
he wants for more and reaches out
with heart and soul and mind.

It's not enough to just have want,
the world is full of mouths.
Opened wide an sucking dry
the gives and the hand - outs.

Toil he must for in that place
of sweat and work and fear,
hides the sought out providence
of practice, skill and years.

This new boy believes.
he believes he's like those giants,
the ones above the clouds,
that perhaps he too is made of steel
and too might make them proud.

It's not enough to just have want,
he's lived that life too long,
no longer can he live in guilt,
not safe for soul's belong.

So toil he must, and patience,
it's time to make anew,
this life is meant for greater things
than giving up will do.

And maybe soon, one day at best,
when the clouds above have cleared,
the tops of glass and metal heads
look down and then will cheer,
"This new boy believed".

New to Los Angeles

It has been a little while since I wrote on here. I have been tremendously busy. I continue to write more for myself than for anything. I have just moved about ten days ago to Los Angeles. Downtown. The big city. The one I love and fear. I come as a man and as an artist wanting to bear my soul but uncertain what the world wants to see and what to show them. I am an artist and I search for the way to express myself. I am a film maker looking for a way to make my stories come to life. I am a writer who wants to bring characters into my shared world and visit them upon great and terrible devices. I am terrified. I so so intensely afraid of the unknown and yet here I stand facing it, the buildings around me now a cadre of glass and metal giants looking down from the clouds while I shout at them, "hear me!" This place is full of those who have tried, those who have failed and those who gave up, a constant reminder of my innermost fears literally paving the cement, a living detritus that covers the earth like fallen ash. Here also lies promise, providence in the form of opportunity to any who are tough enough, committed enough, willful enough to pursue their ceaseless dreams in the face of the ever present fear. My doubt begins to boil up again, brooding plasma like blood, curdled beneath my flesh just below the surface, a moment away from spilling out and taking over me. Drowning. In this thick black muck I search for solid ground, platforms with which I can continue on and find footing. There is no path beyond the road of comfort, now, it is all a journey of the self without a map. I must not let my fear be the champion that speaks loudest on  my grave, speaking soft words of failure. The only failure is in stopping to rest on the quick sand, the muck beneath my feet, my flesh. The danger is in standing still. Therefore, I must keep going, I must pursue, I must persist. For if I intend to give up, I may as well shed my clothing and allow the street to creep and solidify over my skin, forever entombing me in a bed of concrete. If that is not my end, then on must I go and push forward through my fears and failures to forge this unknown path by hand and foot and mind. Then, one day, it may be me on the shoulders of metal giants, of glass giants, and it will be my turn to hear instead of speak. I yearn for that day. I cry for it. There is no going back. I live.

The Heart of Fairy King

"The Heart of Fairy King" 

By David Cortez 

There was no greater love to write for all the ink there was, 

than that which grew like hungry vines but halted here because, 

when light inside grew dim then dark of beloved Fairy Queen, 

then all to black and poisoned veined the heart of Fairy King.

Stars Like Flowers

                     Act 1

In this, my portend wayward hours,
when stillness soon take root,
will fasten in beleaguered mind
and soon to bear dark fruit.

    "Play on! Play on!
Encore, Encore.
Too soon the curtains close,
I've not yet chanced the empty halls
where might my children grow.
Not danced among the lovey trees
and carved on such, my name.
Nor sung the tune that beats my heart
but needless of the fame."

What word is this that leaves me dumb
and flirts my waiting tongue?
It leaves me quiet as the grave
where mothers weep for babes.

If not for pen and thirsty page,
to which I feed it calm,
I could not say of what I feel
at this when time is gone.

   "Oh Lord, what game do you create
to see the Lily bloom,
if just to send it wilting low
and cower in its doom?
Have not we gained your confidence,
in this, our sacrifice,
to play your game of charlatans
as recumbent men and mice?"

Have I still time, then words as well,
to vex your welcome gate,
not still, I go, but remain in fight
the buzzards too shall wait.

Each breath be mine until the last
not robbed of that, will I.
My lips may move to only gasps,
on pages I shall cry:

     "Play on! Play on!
I am yet lost, my pen
my mighty sword.
Encore! Encore!
Not curtains yet.
With you, at odds,
My Lord.

(Fade to white)

                     Act 2

What light is this that finds me chilled
  and thaws my frozen veins?
    What moves this brittle skeleton
      upwards with hidden strings?

      Such luminance as cresting beams
    of sun that pierces sky,
  and fills my former wistful eyes
with verve revivified.

Enraptured awe of marvels thrust
  into mine waking mind.
    To stand amid infinity,
      before me, all of time.
        If I reach out, I'd touch a star,
          no, single point of light.
            I realize no eyes were built
             to witness such a sight.

           Intrigued by curiosity,
         I reach to touch the flare.
      Upon such fragile trifle touch
  the light BURSTS everywhere...

What fool am I, it was no star
   that I mistook at first.
      My feeble mind could not conceive...
         the birth, of universe.

    "Oh Lord my Lord, what is this place
which I have come to view,
that contravenes what I have known
and threatens eyes with dew?
What name, in dreams, is called this place
where stars, like flowers, bloom?
Where warmth of sun and starlight arms
cradle like a womb?"

Is this where man, in final rest,
  comes to lay his head?
    Father I remember,
       twas dying in my bed.
        No fear, no pain, no body felt,
      free at last to roam,
   but why at all did I feel fear
 when I only travel home?
And THUS, reborn, a fiery soul,
 a flicker in nebulae,
   and now in heavens, see mine eyes,
      they twinkle down on thee.

A Need To Be Creative

I realized today, after much subterfuge I witnessed, that there are some people whose aspirations ignore decency or courtesy. It has stuck with me too long a time today and I was trying to determine why that might be. That's when I started to account for my habits. Looking at the habits of an artist whom I admire, I realized that an idle mind makes room for idle thoughts. Though from time to time it's good to meditate on ourselves and find our centers of patience and creativity, my time today was mostly wasted on anger.

It became apparent that there exists a need within me that I mistook for boredom. A need to be creative daily. From this moment on, I will make sure to listen to that part of me and find ways every day to remain in a creative state so as not to waste time and energy on idle things that I largely cannot control. What I can control, is what I do. Are my habits in line with those accomplished artists who I admire? Are my behaviors conducive to that of someone striving to be an artist or am I merely wasting time complaining about others and not progressing in my work? I know now what to do.

New Beginnings

I have been making large strides into the world of art, leaving my job and therefore any kind of financial security behind. "With great risk comes great reward." 

I have always wanted to be an artist but never thought it was possible early on. SO many things have happened and changed my way of thinking and I will be forever grateful to those who have believed in me, supported and inspired me to keep going.

Art is a lovely beastie. For fear of confining it to lesser utility I have stretched out my world view to encompass art forms of different kinds, in hopes that it might broaden my ability to express my thoughts and ideas in more articulate ways. I have found artists whose work have inspired me and challenged my imagination and competence and reveled in the fact that though I look up to these individuals as masterful, they too look up to artists that inspired their own work. The lineage is endless, and for that I am humbled in that concept, that idea, that I am now a part of that ever persistent locomotion of self expression and creative process of those who came before me.

I just created my first website for my portfolio, and though it is small in its content, my goal this year is to fill it with images I created to tell a story. This is a challenge as well as a goal for me, one that I am eager to continue as I am able.

Thank you all for your interest so far, your help and support, and for your inspiration.