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.
...are persistent with their illusions. They’re confusing. Faded narratives tell fuzzy stories. And morph into something else entirely. Too fast to draw conclusions from, there is no concrete fact in these visions.
With no other stimulation above, the world from below rises. Its inhabitants loud and chaotic. Methodically, they proceed to break what’s left of me. Tearing my will down is all they hope for. Opportunists who’ve waited for a lack of distractions to raise...
Read More...Lies self-told as I got old to convince myself they’re worth their weight in gold
Bold tides collide and perspective modified
It clarified that the glow I saw, although still raw, was mine
It cleared, I have reasons to be here
A season of treason to convention and tradition
The condition of ascension
With no permission, on a mission
Dematerialized material vices
And I can’t recognize why I decided to be on the side I decided to be on
But I’ll capitalize on the capital size of this awareness.
It’s only fair when I stare this in the face...
...struggle is from within
And it’s great if words get down
But that’s just one round
To satisfy the thoughts bouncing around
There’s more to do
The thoughts aren’t quiet
There’s more sound
And it’ll get done
Quite quick
And it’ll get down
And it’ll get finished...
Read MoreLoud machinery wakes me up. Can’t see a thing. There isn’t enough room to spread my arms too far out. There’s almost nowhere to move my feet. Panic immediately consumes me. I frantically attack the inside of the container.
The walls.
Floor.
“AHH!” Slips from my lungs, bursting through my vocal cords and out my mouth. “WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS!”
Images of coffins and the movie Buried raced through my mind. Poor Ryan Reynolds was fucked straight through that film!
Nothing budges or moves. This box is static.
A deep breath calms me enough to organize all relevant thoughts. Understanding my environment becomes priority number one.
I’m cushioned in by walls to my back and sides. A surface frictionless smooth before me. Increased resolution reveals glass.
The padding inside is whiter as I see more. A grey featureless wall twenty feet away appears. It stretches the entire view on the other side of the glass.
Out of sight shines an electric blue light. It’s barely there. The wall is just bright enough to…
Read More...stand closer together and merge into one observer. A living shadow obsessed with the nearest star. Dozens of ballet dancing fireflies twirl out of the woods. Spinning and dancing around this bigger deformed shadow.
Birds glide away into the sun. They become silhouettes themselves and vanish between the sky and ocean.
The shadow divides into two and face the emptied forest...
Read More...in view, a small military unit and several civilians back up past the alley. Alex debates coming out and joining them, but before he could decide to do so they’re out of site on the other side of the alley. Following them is a horde of infectees. Hundreds deep. He figures keeping his silence is the safest bet. In all probability they’re going to die in a few short moments.
In the last two days Alexander has seen the infectees attract more of their kind. They travel in packs. The assumption is that the same situation is taking place. He devises a plan to creep away in the opposite direction of the horde. If done with good timing it might be clear enough to move unnoticed. To escape the area undetected. He’d be the ghost of the apocalypse...
Read More...one of them just died. The symptoms are identical in the one I’m watching and she has just begun to seize. No words describe the horror I feel. This patient that isn’t even mine. Dr. Krapovski left me in charge while he tends to his recently deceased other patient. I’m alone.
The nursing staff scrambles into the room with a crash cart. A couple of deep breaths and I focus. Pull back onto the game. The balls on my court.
A nurse hands me levetiracetam and I sent it right through the patients IV. She rapidly calms to a full halt before her monitor flat lines.
The nurse preps the defibrillator. I apply both paddles. “CLEAR!” I say. The girl’s body jumps, chest...
Read More...skies for a way to save her or kill myself. The celestials have abandoned space and time. The Count was lost for how many times the day was relived. It could be in years by now and I’d never know.
It’s irrational that memory is retained if the entire space-time of a day goes in reverse. Memory should be lost in the reverse order that it was learned, but I remember it all. I should be unaware of this loop. Perhaps this is punishment for the way I’ve lived my life.
It has beaten me. Countless times I’ve given in and simply witnessed her die. It’s not malicious. It’s destiny. It can’t be helped. I’m trapped.
She’s still quite...
...coming back later to look through it is more alluring. There will be gems if there is enough to search through.
The creator knows what the purpose of their world is because they’ve made it clear. Later working on disguising each word and adding a poetic twist. Metaphors. The time to fix will arrive. And then the universe shall be enjoyable. And then the universe will be entertaining for its inhabitants and observers.
But none of this is possible if the world, the universe never gets made. There must first be something to fix.
To create without restraint is true discipline. To drag whatever out of imagination land. To dive deep and pull out emotional and personal truths is a skill which requires immense focus.
All white empty canvases require artists to give them purpose. To be brought to life. Something is better than nothing, and a little bit of momentum might snowball.
And clever words might imagine...
...drop to my chest. Crawling to the vantage point reduces the chances of getting spotted. It's more time to get the shot ready..
Grains of sand find their way to my skin as my uniform presses against the desert.
The sniper is on my back, Remington M21. I draw the gun, put it on the bipod and move to the edge of the hill.
Endless white flashes pop in and out of the darkness below. The silhouettes of guns held by bodiless arms are briefly visible after each trigger is pulled.
All this has to go ignored. I’m here to accomplish a mission. The sniper across the path has to be dealt with immediately. They’ve taken the life of several American soldiers and this has to come to an end.
From this vantage point I should be able to locate the shooter. The night vision scope is equipped.
Commence scan.
Down on the path the convoy is still halted. Surrounded by the enemy. The American soldiers are using their vehicles for cover. Hostile vehicles are...
Read More...in the mental palace.
The lights are off.
There’s a monster hidden inside this.
Titled liar by reflections.
Imposter syndrome with an echo.
It came from that direction.
Inevitably watching sunrises can become a way of life.
Living a perpetual crisis.
Panic mode, the final form.
Seconds before the bomb blows,
The wire is...
...the pretender isn’t strong enough.
Not to calm fears of recoding the system.
Not to forget margin for error.
Zipped lips with sick slick words and an unpickable locks tick quick building up for the explosion.
Increasing pressure meeting resistance must be equal or greater in energy value to said resistance to avoid collapse. Overfilling can result in a system breach and total failure of resistance.
Imaginary handcuffs for the judged
Ignorance holds the key.
A prison cell of conformity.
Embodied...
...but he tries to relax. He can’t seem to stop kicking and flailing wildly.
As James struggles to hold himself up the rope swings left and right. Bounces up and down. Tightens as it twists and turns making it increasingly difficult to grip.
“How do I get out of this?” James tries to focus, “How do I pull myself up and over?” but he can barely keep it together. Images of family members and his children keep getting in the way. His mind wanders against his will. He rather keep it on solutions. Active and capable. But his rational mind believes it’s too late.
Struggling with which...
Read More...The ache, lustful with ideas.
Entertained by perpetual “What iffing.”
Once the curtain lifts the show never ends.
It’s who they are forever.
But there is no way to teach this.
There’s no way to explain it.
It has to be witnessed to be understood.
To be experienced.
You had to be there.
The best that can be done is to live what’s been earned.
One day, at least one will want what’s been learned.
When they see what’s brought to the table.
Only then will they follow.
They’ll imitate and in doing so they’ll learn, understand and realize it’s all hallow.
And it’ll turn me on.
Make these ideas more effable for the experiencee.
Make the experiencee more F-able to me.
Orgasmic in nature.
Being present during the realization period of an individual is better than sex.
To watch profound ignorance be lifted.
Exchanged for clarity and awareness.
It’s hard to explain.
Makes me...
...to escape from polluted neighbors.
Captured by their force of nature.
Stuck, always facing one direction.
Unable to move how desired.
Unable to shift and see new things.
Weary eyes must always be fixed on those most blue.
Tending.
Balancing, keeping check.
Assuring tides are not too drastic.
Assuring tides are not too tame.
It hurts, but staying is the only option.
And whether or not explained.
Denial is always present when the wise tell of the most unpleasant decent.
Excited, no one heeds warnings.
Ignoring stories, having no worries.
The glory is there was never any stopping this.
It’s nature’s course.
Unavoidably, it inflicts its force.
It all...
...I dress.
Sneak out.
Say a lost cellphone lead to lost contact information when we cross paths.
It tends to take me a while to realize leftover strings were tangled around me.
They go unnoticed for weeks as I go about my day tugging them.
This is why lying is a sin.
Lucky for me, I didn’t.
About you… Well.
Good luck?
There’s no guilt when both players agree to put all the cards on the table before the game.
When the other player holds cards back and still loses, it’s almost a karmic high.
It’s an ironic plot twist from their point of view.
Something I...
...Wifey’s birthday. Can’t forget to turn up
Mollies, like real adults
Get paid. Five baby daddies
Drive up to welfare in a shiny Benz
At work all day. The mean streets
The crew runs too deep for fear
“We’re men,” we say
Go hard for the homies. Stay hard for the homies. But no homo
Own name tattoo across chest. Thug credentials
Or Identification In-Case-Of-Shit
Long white Ts, Like a Ghost...
Read More...induces madness, anger. There’s no reason to look away from a doppelganger. Less so when you’re not even the origin side of this parallel.
Staring at watches and doorknobs all day assures nothing. The room is still empty. But inside the slime buried beneath blue lines is the formula for happiness.
There was never a mirror.
There was never a door.
There was never a watch.
Grab the keys to the engine and hit the road, injure it. No passengers needed to reach the next destination. They’re no more than a thought of the past. But I’m no longer sure I even want to reach the...
Read MoreI fight them back whether or not I try. Emotions suppressed by lie after lie. Self-deceit, mainly. The want is to let them out. To be free from the contained pressure. It’s toxic, less like oxygen, but more like carbon. Pint up, the closed container is shook and expands to its limits. Representative of someone young never allowed to be a child. Curiosity punished by ignorance leading to a path of destructive addiction. Not being able to let out what is felt leads to wanting to feel nothing, instead. Not all who wander are lost. Some of us are just hoping we’re never found.
By Jack Thomas
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