The Abstract Art Gallery
Broken, confused writer Jack Thomas puts the images in his mind on display in this "Blog." He dives into personal experience and his observations of the world to share his take on morality, childhood trauma, creativity, relationships, sex, politics, religion, violence, reality and more. Using countless formats from narrative driven short stories, to poetry, to song lyrics and philosophical explanations.
...scream that’s bubbling out
Little did I know I’m still runnin’ from this boulder
It’s gotten closer but I’ve gotten faster, I’ve gotten older
With brains scrambled I don’t think clear in my natural state of disaster
Bolder deranged audiocassette
Rearranged the terrain
Change the position of the walls
Lost in the maze I’ve made
I’m the cause of going insane
This skin won’t be breakin’
Not ceramic, elastic
Overenthusiastic and a smile made of plastic
This outlet is all I’ll...
...contained and applied when the time is right
Used in sync with the stars alignment
To intricately design the electromagnetic mine
Meant to blow the mind, reboot, reintegrate it
A pile of failed attempts at being poetic
Frankenstein and other synthetics
There’s a goldmine somewhere
It’s written in pen, I remember, I read, I wrote it
Questions plague decisions and the precision of the answer
If a million disasters are what it takes I’ll accelerate just to get there faster
Liberated and unconcerned...
...Faint heat
Rapid growth
Tall and bright
Illumination
Long life keeping things visible for those around
Low flame
About to burn out
The candle is all but evaporated
Dim
Near dark
Walls swallowed behind the ever growing void
Resistant fire stands...
190/365
Don't feel creative
Thus, I create something new
Addiction is strong
...not even giving me the chance to explain why I am this way. It’s not fair for her to throw this all away because of claims that I’m crazy and have been for days. This makes me seem out of mind and out of place. I’m dismissed as though my words make no sense, its insolence and disrespectful since I think I’ve earned enough points to be listened to.
I just need her to hear me long enough to see my point and believe it. I’m not trying to deceive her, but she keeps trying to leave and I need her here to see the honesty inside...
Read MoreMy addiction isn’t with alcohol or drugs. Not with sex. Not with video games.
My addiction is with escaping reality. Seeing things for what they’re not.
My obsession and high comes from molding my own worlds and playing God.
My obsession is with creation and extinction.
...blunt jerk, tall, not high but working on it.
I’m not creepy, the uneasy feeling you get from me is simply that I’m lying to you about everything I say. I try to tell you the things you’d like to hear just so you keep me near. When the time is right and I acquire the things I came...
...tuned
Advancements
Spot on tips learned over time
Trails of blue thoughts, wants and desires
Hopes to come true
Lies
The page
Mother Nature
Changed from her natural state
Splashed with ink blasted
Crossed out and tossed her
Writing in pen
Lost rhythm
Decided to begin again
Switched tools
Use the fine-tuned
With the refined tip
The slimmest...
...hope and dreams
Perpetually dangling where barely reachable
Walking off the cliff is the only way
To grab it by the horns and give it a name
Desperately dancing around a dying flame
Asking the rain gods to be merciful
Epiphany...
...crosses pavement
Generational debate
Bell rings with a pink basket
Into a mechanized can
On rubber radio signals
Awkward quiet
Stressful hearts race
Panic! Panic!
The can rolls away...
...information when I know I don’t have all the parts. There is more to acquire. Even if further reasoning on the same information is the only thing that can be done from my place and time, I’m okay with exploring that, but I’m alone in this.
Comprehension of different minds I fully understand. We don’t all think the same, but in the middle of conversation it escapes me as I’m enjoying myself. As a result, it always feels to me like I’m being abandoned in the middle of a discussion. Because I see more places it can go, but this doesn’t mean they do or if they do that they even want to go there. Reasoning is abstract and that isn’t the most appealing to most. I’d rather just be told they don’t want to be in the conversation...
Read MoreDistractions Many
Focus Requires Discipline
Fight For What You Want
Four babies
Three baby daddies
Two addicts
One baby mama
With a brand new car
Nails done
Club dress
Stoned heels
Mad grown
Career by a pole
Independent woman
Extended family
Secrets
Shhhh
Failing immune system
Cam girl
Natural causes at 30
...is it nonsense or is it art since we made it?
What if I make it faded?
Is it intentional or subconscious?
Does it go back to being nonsense?
Does it need to be created?
Or is nature enough to name it?
If a paint can materializes midair over a white page spills and paints it all red, yet across the earth I decide to paint only red on the empty page.
Are they both art?
Are they both the same?
The difference can’t be seen.
And I only took part in the one in front of me.
Must it be beautiful for it to be considered art?
Is art incapable of being ugly and dark?
Is there no objectivity to what it is?
Is it subjectively bound to what the individual decides of it?
Can it be wrong if it’s someone independent view of the world regardless of how cruel it comes out?
Can art be...
The people closest to you will support you the least. It’s worse if you’re a writer because chances are you are one of the only people you know that enjoys reading. At best, those around you will purchase your writing just to say they did, but don’t press them on how far they’ve gotten because “haven’t had a chance to start” is quite possibly the answer. Their lack of interest is the reality.
It’s most frustrating part is that writers puts themselves into their work which results in the work being the best way to understand the writer. The best way to understand how you think and what you find interesting.
No one cares as much as you do, because you’re the only that cares.
Read More...possibility that once they’re inside they’ll never come back out and freeze up at the cave entrance. They listen to the rumble inhale and exhale. Transistor and apostle, each with a gun in their hand, transmutations on Isaiah’s and scripture on Finn’s.
“So…” Finn begins. “Yeah, looks pretty bad,” he says.
“Pitch black, you mean!” Isaiah says.
“Yeah, that too,” Finn responds. “In?”
“I guess?” Isaiah questions whether or not they should turn around. The longer they stand there, the better of an idea it seems to just run away. “Before we change our minds,” he says and they walk inside. Isaiah’s gun shines gold, Finn’s purple and then gold, just enough to...
Read MoreThe rumble of the earth quaking viciously collapses entire mountains and erupts volcanos firing bright orange magma. The neutral sky rains blood as the clouds part blasting a black mist beam onto the ground below, ungodly rays.
The leafs and bark on all the trees go dark and fall leaving an ash graveyard.
Wings on the Adonis with a golden glow falling from the sky, staff in hand, slow the drop and halt him atop those watching below.
The clergy united side by side with the fight for power, the celestial cowards bent on resetting the mindset to maintain control. Mere hours before the kid shows.
The last stand. Allister watches from above, crown on his head fist of his left hand eager to overthrow the old way. He must rule over those lost and show them the cost if they disobey.
Allister preaches of the day they’ll wreck for reckoning. The troops ready for war.
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