Enough long poem

Photo by Neal.

Do the work- just do the work
I agreed and began early to do the work- make art- create beauty
Allow the inspiration to flow- act on it and manifest my vision of heaven
Even if it is abstract.

In my mid-twenties I began in earnest
Yet after several years of struggle I found myself spiralling down
Down into a suicidal depression called hell
Leave me alone I’m having crisis said the button I still have- a gift from a friend.

How can one find one’s self in hell attempting to manifest heaven?

After an unimaginable time in the depths of a solitary hell
With no one near to hear my hello- I climbed out
I climbed out but never closed the door
The door stayed open because I agreed to do the work
I agreed to do the work and recommitted myself to my art path
Continuing to produce against impossible odds- fool that I am !

Hell hurts
Just do the work- Bruce.

Hell continues to exist because we avoid- we repress- we deny
We continue to feed it because we can’t face the pain- our own pain
Decades of pain- lifetimes of pain- aeons of pain
We can’t own the rage- the anger
We can’t own the grief- the sadness
We can’t own the despair- the hopelessness
The work is to allow all feeling- to deny nothing
To allow hell- when triggered- to flow up.

When triggered- to allow hell to flow through and then out
Out of that which we stand on- out of the earth
The repository of all our ancient denial and ancestral garbage
Out of the gap- the crack in the universe
Our universe- our world- our work
It’s not a game show- it’s not reality TV.

I agreed to do the work- the work of healing the disconnect
The- no that’s not mine- denial- that can’t be mine- denial
Yes it can- maybe it is
The- no I didn’t reject that- repress that
I couldn’t have- why would I?
The- no I can’t feel that- I can’t feel anything judged bad
The- no I won’t feel that- so I won’t feel anything at all
The work I agreed to do.

The work to heal the disconnect- to feel everything
Not just the happy- not just the good
Not just the mindless- not just the shallow
Not just the acceptable and ok with everybody else
I agreed to do the work of feeling all feelings
Good and bad- positive and negative
Masculine and feminine- light and dark.

But you’re a male- Bruce
This lifetime- but there have been others
Many others- beyond number- infinity is just that- infinite
Timelessness is just that- timeless- beyond time- outside time.

I agreed to do the work
To attempt to succeed creating beauty even as I struggled
To find my way out of rejection’s despair
To experience the gravity of homelessness
To come to know the nothingness- the no-thing-ness
To carry the weight of poverty rather than give up
Something I’ve most certainly done before
So I agreed to do the work.

I climbed out of hell but couldn’t close the door
The door remained open
And I only made it out a few steps anyway
Because I found I had to give hell a voice
I had to open space for hell to speak- to communicate- to facilitate healing
I gave hell a voice to speak through me
From time to time it rose up into me- out of me
And took over because I fearlessly let it use my vocal chords
It is- you might say- a part of me
As it is a part of everything and everyone.

Its voice- low and guttural- loud and screaming
Soft and sinister- horrified and hair-raising
Outraged and deadly- toxic and terrifying
Sad- immeasurably unimaginably unbearably sad.

That can’t be easy- Bruce
No- it can’t be easy- it’s never easy- it hurts every time
A pain so vast- so overwhelming- so total- so encompassing
Unfortunately- when difficult emotions get triggered
Because one’s emotions are meant to move
Stopping the wave is so much worse than letting it go
To stop the movement is beyond dangerous
Because even if it takes a while- it still kills the self.

So I gave hell a voice- I said it could use mine
I held the door open and created space for hell to move- out
To heal by passing through me- unencumbered by denial
No longer rejected and repressed into oblivion
I agreed to do the work- the work of healing hell
I gave hell love- and I gave hell a voice.

That can’t be simple- Bruce
No- it’s not simple- but necessary
So very necessary- and so few can do this work
No polarized female can do this work- no polarized male- either
Men and women are still fighting with each other- blaming each other
This work requires an end to the gender battle
Work only an individual who is no longer split in two can do.

Few humans know the value of the work you’re doing
You’ve wholed the halves- united the opposites
Consciously become the one- the ancient split is gone in you.

Yet I’m human too- this lifetime
But I’ve been everything else- everywhere else- every when else
Everyone else- so I agreed to do the work
To let hell move through me- through my heart- my soul
To return hell to source- to help hell heal its self
By my willingness to let it pass through me
No longer repressed- no longer denied
No longer discounted- no longer discarded
No longer fractured off- no longer trapped in the dark
No longer abandoned- no longer alone
All feelings allowed- and even loved
No more resentment- no more resistance
No more reason to fear- no more need for fear
No more fear.

So don’t misunderstand me
The process of creating is a meditation- a dance
Intense passionate mind-blowing ecstatic joy- my heaven
Which magically makes the creation work- play
Honouring the gifts I incarnated with.

And every time a piece is completed and then signed
Higher states are achieved- greater clarity ensues
And self-mastery manifests
And amazingly enough- every time another wave of darkness moves
A more substantial state of peace emerges
A greater state of gratefulness unfolds
And grace descends opening the lotus.

But after decades creating beauty- thinking I might be good enough
Knowing I’d worked hard enough- feeling I’d earned enough
Hoping to be worthy enough- praying I deserved enough
After being beaten up enough and beaten down enough
While never being popular enough because I’m far too progressive
And living on next to nothing for far too long
My gifts remain a curse.

A few months before her own death- my mother called
Being a make the best of it sagittarian
After making a mess of it herself- she said- get a job
Hell rose up so fast I had to hang up in order to prevent a disaster
I really didn’t want to just blow her away
So we never spoke again because she was still clueless
I have a job- to make art- create beauty
And in the process- heal hell
The work I agreed to do.

Financially- creating beauty isn’t very functional
At least for someone who doesn’t work in the most accepted media
The most traditional formats- which I don’t
Maybe somewhere else it’s highly valued
But not on this earth- not here- not now
The insurance man says I can only claim the value of my materials
The tax man says I can only write off the value of my materials
My talent- my time- my expertise- my varied media
My vision- my individuality- my originality- my uniqueness
All the skills and attributes I’ve spent decades
Even lifetimes- acquiring and refining
The things that make my art- my art
Valueless- meaningless- even futile.

Apparently- art has no intrinsic value
And according to my brother- unless I can find a buyer the work is worthless
Even a dead end- at least until I’m dead- but I’m not dead yet
So I guess I’m still hoping it will then have value
Because it pretty much seems you have to have died
In order to make enough to succeed financially
At least for me.

However- being blunt and straightforward enough
You never succeed if you stop- if you give up.

But I guess I forgot to remember
I’d need an expensive marketing machine
And a sugar daddy- I mean husband- I mean patron
I can’t just do it on my own? I can’t just do everything myself?
I need a personal assistant? I need a business partner?

I came to do the work- create beauty
I came to do the work- heal hell
And I can’t seem to make enough to support myself
Because too few want to pay for the art
And nobody wants to pay somebody to heal hell
Which- by the way- is a lot of work.

Yet almost unbelievably- with every emotional wave allowed to move
Unencumbered by the human inability to let go
This plane lightens up- this place gets clearer
This planet becomes more beautiful- more present- more open
Because that’s how significant the work is
So I just do the work to heal hell and celebrate the creation of beauty.

Just do the work- Bruce
Nobody else can- nobody else knows how
Nobody else is willing- everybody else is afraid
Afraid of an earth where free will freed its self from its self.

I climbed out of hell but never shut the door
Hell- when triggered- moves through me without destroying anything
That- of course makes just hanging out difficult
Because I may be easy- but I’m not easy to be around.

I stand there- and by just standing there
Others see in my reflection all they are denying
Which can be challenging- and unfortunately
Makes working for someone else problematical- likely impractical- even impossible
Because I’m done- done keeping my mouth shut- biting my tongue
Pretending everything is ok- civilized into silence.

I gave hell a voice to call out all the bullcrap
Making me somewhat disruptive- somewhat reclusive
Because I’ve had enough- heard enough- taken enough- put up with enough
I’ve tolerated enough- waded through enough- sucked up enough
I’ve eaten enough- argued enough- fought enough- protested enough
Experienced enough- and kissed enough ass- too.

Over the years I’ve been nice enough- kind enough
Polite enough- and more than helpful enough
And with a twisted sense of humor I’ve even been hilarious enough
But I’ve also laughed enough at the absurdity
Of being part of a species that continues to believe in war
Terrorists that can’t get enough of war
Barbarians that still haven’t had enough of war.

Personally- I’ve tried to be smart enough- but I’ve made enough mistakes- too
Everybody does- it’s called growing up.

Yet over time I’ve managed to remember enough- forget enough
And remarkably- I’ve even been gentle enough- and loving enough
But after 60 years I’ve been discriminated against enough
Tripped up enough- pushed around enough- screwed enough
F*&ked over enough- and judged enough too.

And in the end I gave up enough- paid enough
Sacrificed enough- suffered enough- even cried enough
So I only have a few friends now because I agreed to do the work
To move hell out of the earth- to free denial from the gap- to heal hell.

And today is a moving day.

Healing hell hurts.

With Pluto- God of the underworld- conjunct the God sun in leo
And mars- the warrior God- in leo too
It’s no wonder I agreed to do the work.

Just do the work- Bruce
Create beauty- heal hell- and know yourself for who you are
Know the self- know the one- know the whole
Hell must be healed in order for the one to regain wholeness
And remain whole- so just do the work.

No one but you can do the work you are doing
The work you consciously came here to do
No one else cares enough
No one else is strong enough
No one else is human enough
No one else is selfless enough.

Most are far too separated- still believing they are their gender
So they’ll see you as far too arrogant- far too egotistical
Doing this work requires being neither male nor female
Doing this work requires merging both- being both
Because as you know- that’s what opens the healing channel.

The healing channel- it is a TV show.

I agreed to do the work- so I have a job
A job that unfortunately- doesn’t pay very well
I’m almost homeless again- no money to pay bills- or rent
No food in the refrigerator- disconnect notices
Warning phone calls- if you don’t pay up- or else.

I never thought my choice of mediums
Because of its association with women and a functional craft
Would prove so profoundly mind-numbingly dysfunctional
And after decades of expended energy- I can’t stop doing what I’m doing
After all this time invested in labor-intensive work
I can’t seem to make a living doing what I’m doing
And unfortunately- I can’t be homeless again
I’ve carried the burden long enough.

So let me repeat myself- and say goodbye
In case you never see me again- as I’ve been beggar enough.

I can’t stop doing what I’m doing
I can’t seem to make a living doing what I’m doing
I can’t be homeless again.

I agreed to do the work- create beauty- heal hell
Sales have always been irregular so it doesn’t pay very well
Still- I agreed to do the work to create beauty- and heal hell.

Just do the work- Bruce
You succeeded even if you have no money
And nobody else can create your work- make your work- and do your work.

Without a workroom I can’t do the creation work
And after all these years- ongoing recognition and considerable success
I still exist in poverty- and feel like a massive failure.

Life comes- life goes- just do the work until the end
This will be the last time these conditions exist
You’re good enough- even if it seems everybody hates you
Though at the time it wasn’t understandable
You’ve been transmuting hate since you were eight
An unexplainable set of circumstances but one that’s been very valuable to the whole
So there’s nothing to forgive- it will be enough- and amazingly- love is all around you
Because- on this side of the veil
We’re all blown away by the beauty of your creation experience.

Most importantly- just continue to be the conduit
And take hell with you when you leave
It will be a very big emotional wave
It’s the work you came to do
Just return it to source
Source awaits.

Until then- challenge everyone- everything
Continue to help where you can
Use your tools and do healing work
Write poetry and mix music
Share your energy field with those who are open
Persevere- make art- and just be radiant.

Create beauty- and you’ll heal hell.

I agreed to do the work
Just do the work
Do the work
Just work

It will be enough
More than enough.

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