Sterling Sinclair Channels a Message of Light and Peace – Accused of Being Evil and Destructive, So He Writes a Slam- like Poem, October 14, 2017
This is an acrylic self-portrait on 24X36 canvas.
I though it was suitable to post because I kept seeing it in my mind’s as I wrote the following poem. I started writing the poem while shopping for threaded pipe at Home Depot. That is quite the place to gain inspiration to write…
I hope that some of you who relate to the self-portrait or the poem, have found a way to be happy and live meaningful live on this planet.
I was invited to a conference. I knew there were people there who did not want me going. I accepted the invitation. After the presentation, 3 people came up to me and said that the presentation was “life altering – in a really positive way” and one person even said that it was the highlight if the conference.
So what do the coordinators do?
They ask me to come back next year and in no way do anything similar in a presentation ever again. They actually requested that my wife do research and provide a minilecture as I draw.
They don’t even want me to speak.
This is not the first time people have stopped me from repeating a lesson, sermon, session even though it was raved about by the people in the workshop, audience, etc.
Once a man had a wheelchair. I think he had an accident and could not walk. In the sermon and prayers, and in handshakes, the same guy came to church the next week with only a cane. Stories of me being instrumental to that experience got discussed at a staffing meeting for the church. I was never again to do what ever it was I did that healed the congregant. By the time I fled congregational ministry the list of restrictions (even how high I held my arms for the benediction) were so extensive, I was silenced, suffocated, and became terribly ill. I never claimed to healing this guy or the many others who came to church seeking healing but I was accused of bragging about it around town.
It seems that the more good I do, this world increases its efforts to stop that good I do.
Much love, S
“For once, Just Love Me!”
By Sterling Sinclair
A guy tired of persecution.
“Born into an unwelcome world
Sleeping with eyes wide shut
Words claw stapled lids
Razor blades reveal the ring
Round 10 beauties distract the pain
My gloves are always pushed down
Sweeping fluid across the mat
Too salty to taste
Too bitter to waste
Don’t be proud
Don’t ever try to win
My bruises burst blisters
My feet weep from pain
Bound beneath my weight
This world is just too heavy
Too thick, Too Slow,
To my mother I write my end note
I choose my expiration date
The milk has gone sour
Weevils invade the flour
Rising dough falling off the shelf
Kicked across the floor
Branded by my father
Sculpted by his sole
Hoofed me in the head
Fucked me like a football
Humping in Hell
Oh my head
It rings like a bell
Buried in my wings
Plucked to the bone
Choked and pulled
Cheeks filled with nuts
Unable to scream
Damp distant dreams
Sweat soaked sheets stuck
Too tough to touch
Tongue depressors gag me
Gosh this place is heavy
It wanders off coarse
Cursing the blessed
Preying upon the blessers
Feed at the trough
A buffet of lies
A cornucopia of pain
Oh it must have hurt once I had teeth to bight
Heads have holes
Keep your head out of mine
The whole thing is a confused fuck-show
Full monte mooning actors
Melting on the stage
Just love me
Just love me
I try to love you”
Psychic Sterling Sinclair Auracature and Poem, I Choose to Have a Good Day: When I wake up bothered by a possible past. November 26, 2014
Psychic Sterling Sinclair
Auracature and Poem,
I Choose to Have a Good Day:
When I wake up bothered by a possible past.
November 26, 2014
I Choose to Have a Good Day
I woke up this morning with life considerations competing with possible youth outcomes.
Confusion did not contaminate my visions of the past.
Memories void of my recognition streamed past my eyes.
Do you ever wonder if life happened the way that you thought it happened?
It can be far easier to place guilt upon a ghost than upon a man.
If I cannot see what has been stripped from my sight, is it best not to look?
If you seek then you shall find.
So, why seek the things you hope not to find?
In our world and in this life we face down horrors and celebrate joys.
None can escape the truth of life dancing upon a knife’s edge.
If I were to see the terrible abyss, would joy fade from my sight?
Would I ever recover or simply stay lost?
Bad things will happen and good things will happen too.
To hide from the truth shall poison the ground upon which I choose to tread.
But to purposely search out the pain that is hidden deep down inside
Digs a bottomless well into which I could drown.
I look in the mirror.
I brush my teeth.
I go down the stairs.
I sing to the radio.
I look outside.
I see the fallen leaves glistening with dew.
I watch cotton ball clouds drift way up high.
A cool breeze turns my head.
My face is bathes by the warm, rising sun.
No matter my past.
No matter what may have been.
No matter what happened.
No matter all of that.
The world kept on living.
Today the future was once again born.
Whether I greet the good or meet the bad on this day, tomorrow will still be born.
Concerns for what was flee from the stage, well curtained in my mind.
Is it okay to let go?
Is it okay if it never was?
Does really matter?
Is it worth my time?
I look to the sky.
I reach to the heavens.
My day begins again.
Just because my waking moments processed mysteries of yesterday,
I did not have to be possessed by the fascination of pain.
The impossible quest for a dark curse of truth does not need to be my path.
I, in my conscious awareness, choose to step onto the green pastures of this day and jubilantly dance into the future.
The tricks of dreams.
The lures of demons.
The fragility of sleep.
They shall not guide this day.
I jump in the shower.
I stand dripping nude at the window.
I close my eyes.
I see buttercups, reflecting pools and pixie sticks.
I smell the scents of roses, sweet brandied pipe smoke, and thawing Christmas tree needles.
I hear my aunt sing, my puppy bark and my babies saying “Dadda.”
My life is once again awakened.
My life’s joy powerfully washes away my early moments of pontification.
When I was half asleep, my thoughts were hurtful and confused.
When fully awake I chose to restore joy in my life.
With the recollection of special, happy times, I choose to open my eyes one more time.
This time, my day begins with a smile.
I choose to have a good day.
by Sterling Sinclair 11/26/14