The Call Of An Artist
PHILADELPHIA, PA
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I don’t know why we’ve been thrown
into the depths of this cruel world
But as an artist, I am grieved by
the unsung possibilities
I have done what I could with despair
I have walked the path of hope
Until my feet bled
I have drank from the bitter veins of freedom
And cried upon the drunken heart of democracy
Where is the happiness for my pursuit
For my blood, sweat and tears
For the renderings of my suffering—
Where is the life, after this tumultuous death
For this must be the call of an artist:
To care in a world that is careless
To confront the world with the price of a breath
And dare them to face their worth!
-The Warm Cup
"To confront the world with the price of a breath And dare them to face their worth!"
-The Bitter Taste Of Honey, Philadelphia
THE WARM CUP
THE JOURNEY OF PROSE
"It calls you by name, pulls you from the depths of circumstance and says:
"Now, show me your scars."​
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THE WARM CUP PRESENTS:
D'elve Je Veux III, Philadelphia native
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From the moment I could hold a pen, I knew there was a magic within me. Writing became road maps of inner truths. I knew things. And they knew me, too.
One doesn't choose to become a poet, it chooses you. It calls you by name, pulls you from the depths of circumstance and says: " Now, show me your scars."
You answer the call----you travel down roads of cobblestoned memories together. You excavate the lessons learned with your bare hands.
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Prose makes you paint a picture in wounds that have yet to heal. Poetry makes you crawl through the valley of understanding, until you have reached your sure.
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To be a poet requires surrender of your will. You suffer long---You die.
Poets are not born; they rise like the butterfly from cocoons of experience.
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True poetry is not about memorized lines and rhythm; the depths are known by their silence; the understanding, like sacred songs sung by the Blue Jay and the Jackal---hidden in the rattle of cobras.
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Writing prose, allows me the time to heal. Every word becomes a step towards wholeness, much like the branch of an aloe plant folding into itself.
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​"I felt like a leaf slowly melting into the ground, crushed under the foot of strangers; that's how I felt most of my life, crushed! Discarded. Unworthy."
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How do you tell someone you're dying
Just cleaving to life like a balled fist
that won't come ajar
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Like a leaf that slowly melts into the ground
and is crush under the foot of strangers
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Like the cloud that dissipates
with the sword of the sun
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Maybe this is his will
that I should wither into nothingness
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That the magic of my life
should dwindle to the air like dust
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What is my cost
that I have loved too easy
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That I only felt the hug instead of the knife
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That I didn't taste the poison
on the rim of the kiss
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I have died many deaths
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But this one
-Loneliness
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Poets are cast out and thrown into the fire---forced to swim through the flames of wisdom.
We are bearers of sacred truths. We are stewards of keys to ancient doors, unlocking wisdom and insight that guide and inspire.
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There's an inexplicable magic that comes alive in the creative process; it's as if the universe is whispering, guiding my words and shaping my thoughts. This creative force is something beyond me yet deeply intertwined with who I am.
Writing demands authenticity and skill; it's an integral part of my existence and a manifestation of something greater working through me.
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I hope my trail of prose resonates with readers on a deeply personal level. I want my words to evoke emotions, provoke thoughts, and offer truth and understanding. If my prose can provide a moment of clarity, a spark of inspiration, or a sense of connection, then I've achieved my goal.
Poetry has the power to heal, to unite, and transform, and I hope to share that gift with the world.
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WORDS OF ENCOURAGEMENT:
Embrace the journey and trust your inner voice! Write fearlessly and authentically.
Don’t be afraid to explore the depths of your emotions and experiences. Read widely, be open to inspiration from unexpected places, and never stop refining your craft. TRUST YOUR MAGIC!
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