art is about life / life is about art

Ordinary Madness

Walking through a cacophony of


On a sunny Saturday

With no particular intentions—

I come upon truth

Within the random;

Walking between words, between sentences

Weaving a conversation

Through whole city blocks of

Swarming pedestrians-

It occurs to me that this

Is just ordinary madness.

Just inconsequential chaos.

The fact that we can read it-

See through the mobs like mathmeticians-

That we can understand the


In something like infinity,

That we can conversate across

The ragingly diverse-

This incomprehensible circus-

And bring order to the tragic-

Doesn’t make us delirious;

It makes us magic.

Copyright Lane DiBlasi 2017


for Paris

I haven’t cried for a long time.

I’ve buried these colors, these emotions, under other colors

Like hiding green inside blue…

Hiding grief in a bored “I’m okay”

Hiding love in a “How’ve you been?”

I haven’t said my piece, haven’t bled through this

Band aid called a smile…

But today I woke up and the world’s misery was

Swimming through my veins like black dye,

Coloring all my moments…

What if what people think is “Depression”

Is really Love, but love for the world, and you think

It’s background noise, just static, it’s just the sound of nature or

The highway

But really, it’s people crying and

It’s not in your back yard, no, it’s somewhere in another country

Where you had no idea your heart was tied up….

It isn’t even on your continent, but see

Emotions aren’t in the brain, they aren’t tied to you like wires,

This is the way YOU feel, part of your spiritual grounding—

We weep inside when we don’t even know why

It’s the people we forgot we cared for,

The brothers and sisters we lost, eons ago, when we split into these small colonies of


But without remembering that those souls are part of our soul, we think,

“This is just another gloomy day.”

Or “maybe I need medication”

To take these blues and greens and turn them


To stop our hearts from feeling what they are missing—

To cement these walls

That hold us

In solitude.



Lane D.

November 16 2015



Excuse Me

Excuse my loudness

Excuse my breath.

Excuse my hem,

And my bitterness.

Excuse my makeup

And my split ends.

Excuse my obsolete


Excuse my presence,

And my insight.

Excuse my staying

Up all night.

Excuse my laughter

Excuse my screams

Excuse my vivid

And violent dreams

Excuse my age

And my ignorance

My starlit sky-

My decadence.

Excuse my passion

Excuse my art

Excuse me constantly

Falling apart

Excuse my crying

Excuse my pain

Excuse my thunder,

And all my rain.

Excuse my soul

And forgive my eyes

Excuse my sunshine

And my blue skies.

Excuse my inflections

That tear you apart.

Excuse my obsession-

Excuse my heart.

I’m sorry for standing

So dreadfully near.

I’m sorry I love you.

I’m sorry I’m here.

I’ve made my excuses,

But still, I persist.

I can’t keep pretending

That I don’t exist.

Lane DiBlasi. Copyright 2017


Between the lines of insanity and sanity lie tiny threads of knowingness

They float like wisps of cotton in the wind, of my mind

And sitting there on one is something you said to me

Which I grab and hold, in its tiny frailness, and keep it near…

Put it in a pouch which I carry around my neck

For protection against villainous worlds of people

Who would undo my joy —

This tiny sparkle, a simple statement

Is the hardest diamond truth and laughs off lasers like the lightning of God

Your words to me were only brief,

A sigh, as in the midst of sleep, almost a dreamed thought in the night…

So quiet, unobtrusive as a lark, perched on the highest branch of life

It reached my ears like caverns, where one whisper would awaken much

That’s parched with silence, listening…

Until the very heart is dry and cracked and cannot beat but waits

With one full glass of tears to cry if one sound could be heard.


And then the roar of that one sound

Echoing through, to bring

An avalanche of life


You simply said…
”I love you.”



Lane DiBlasi

January 15, 2004



Photo by Toy Elephant Photography

when you don’t speak


This sofa is the color of complacency.

The room is the temperature of failure.

Your eyes speak volumes of empty white pages

Books on the shelf, by the hundreds, screaming through sealed mouths

Your hands fold themselves in a secret

How can I understand you when you won’t talk?

How can I make it rain when you keep oxygen imprisoned in a glass jar?

How can I love you when love is made of truth, and you take the Fifth Amendment?

You simply stopped, like a period stopping my sentence.

Like an unsubscribe request-

Unable to Forward, No One Lives Here, Cease and Desist.

I am broken by your inability to finish this line

I am silenced by your silence

I speak into a glass room where even the sun needs a password to enter,

And that password is buried

Under a nondescript expression

An invisible cloak of pretense,

A hundred miles from civilization

Inside emptiness

At the bottom

Of the world.

Lane Eddington

Copyright 2017

elisabeth donaldson

the puzzle screams incomplete

rocking chair rocks unamused by my snoring and the cat purring like a small

steam engine in training

my coffee is cold and dark my thoughts


like a derelict I’m dreaming in pornographic colors

why all this madness in the morning, I was supposed to be writing a letter to my conscience

to say I’m sorry for the way I treated you last night

sorry for the way I shouted into the stratosphere

I was drunk, or my watch was on backwards… one of the two

centuries pass and I’m still asleep waiting for

the girl to come back who

I was? and she? was never meant to be me

and the boy who held my love in a paper cup

drowned in my dream

but this is just a piece of my intricate eccentricity…

dust compiles

but the puzzle screams incomplete



November 18, 2000


Photo: Elisabeth Donaldson photographed by Ruth Chapa



Screaming through dreaming I find my floor again

Are you going to let me drown or

Can love save us?

Through spirals, grief, despair, puzzles and wrong answers, I search for You, for Us, for magic and fairy dust,  but the leaves from the tree of life don’t turn into money so I ….. cry.

Are we doomed

Are we paper burning in a fire

Can the trap turn into a carnival

Can this carnival really be a trap?

Why isn’t Love a Swiss Army knife to unlock all doors? I thought

It was the Garden of Eden

Now it’s just weeds

I want butterflies and you say, we have ants would that be ok?

I am flying in whorls of panic, anxiety, despair, you are trapped in a traffic jam between here and Hell

I love you. That never changed.  I am going to live, that is now changing.

I am change.

I am mighty.

I am life.

The spiders ate the rest of the birthday cake.

I’m going to go breathe, now.  See you later.






we grow into one

We grow into one, you and I-

Like vines, branches, we grow from separate lives

Into the composite we are.


You have me in your ambiance ~

My voice has changed to harmonize with yours.

Your hands burn with the feeling of my skin

I set fire to you with my eyes.


And you inflict ecstasy on me-

You warm my toes with

Your toothy joy and sunbeam stare.

You bleed your love all over my universe.

And I fall to the depths of peace.


And you’re there with open arms that reach

All the way around my mental circuitry-

Around the whole city block of me

And my raving individuality-


And then you kiss me

And tears become stars.



Lane Eddington Copyright 2017


perfect dream


short film elisabeth donaldson poetry
Photo by Molly Lins

Wind me up

I’ll get your dinner and

no, I don’t need to eat

‘cause I’m a winner


Don’t worry about

this porcelean face

I was born this way

Don’t worry- the dishes are done,

now I’ll lie in the sun and melt away


Just drug me and

put me to work—

I’ll look fabulous

I’ll be nothing but curves

as i disintegrate

Just drug me and leave me

the keys

so I can go outside, please


It’s hard being perfect for you

But I’ll do what I can—

if I feel alone, there’s always alcohol

If I get downhearted

I’ll put more lipstick on

I’ll practice being clean.

Aren’t I your perfect dream?


Once long ago, I had a conscience

Once long ago, I thought this and that

But this apron and these lovely wooden spoons

are all I know now

they’re all I love in this world.


It’s too bad I need batteries

To live in ecstasy


If I were to act like myself, you wouldn’t love me

If I were to have an opinion, I’d be fried

So I’ll put more lipstick on

And be satisfied.


And when my soul cries…

I’ll just anesthetize.


And when my heart breaks..

I’ll just remember, I’m a fake.


–L.K.E.  Jan 5, 2017

elisabeth donaldson
Ruth Chapa Photography


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