Ohan Hominis — Explore

I find
That I’m always trying to explain expression
That I’m always defending art that can’t be hung in a gallery.
That when I tell people I write poetry I’m told I don’t look like a poet
That my friends who are painters say they just paint.
That my friends who are musicians say they just play music.
That my friends who are writers say they just write.

I’ve come to realize that art now carries a definition.
That humanity requires a stage to be appreciated.
A frame within which to be recognized.
That expression now needs context.

I find
that spontaneity is human
That formality is a disease.
That perception is everything but grounded on nothing.
That love is bravery and hatred fear.
But that love and hate both boil down to passion.
That passion is at the heart of every conscious existence.
But all other life has nothing but love.
For every tree can’t help but be brave.
Because society is an unlearning.

Who politicized art. Who criticised it.
Who robbed humanity of art and art of its humanity.
Who paid for it. Who bid on it. Who judged it.
Who deemed it worthy. Who built an auction house. Who hired a critic.
Who overpaid a curator. Who underpaid its creator.
Who divorced freedom and expression.
Who closed doors once open.
Who built a wall out of bricks of money and displayed art on the other side.

Why is it that I need to tell everyone when I’m about to start a poem.
That it needs to have an ending.
What made people need to know when the art is over.
What made them think it was ever over.
How did art become something to do and not something to be.
When did people start asking when they could continue going about their lives.
When did life and expression become separate entities.
Who was allowed to put bookends on creativity.

I find
That humanity was robbed of its curiosity
That existence was redefined and someone left out the word expression
That adventure has been relegated to those young enough to not have unlearned it
That wonder is now associated with uncertainty
That awesome has become a mundane matter of fact.

Who invented war.
What justifies rape.
When did a forest become potential money.
Where did liberty die its first death.
Why did beauty become a matter of opinion.
How did love ever come to be marginalized.

I find
That all we need is freedom
That freedom is something we need to give ourselves.
That sovereignty can coincide with community
That love has wings
But that society has caged it

Give me cave paintings
Give me howling at the moon
Give me dancing for the rain
Give me dancing in the rain
Give me bodies smeared in sex
Give me tears
Show me joy
Let me laugh
Let me shout
Let me run
Let me breathe

I find
It’s easier to ask the questions than it is to give the answers
That art can criticise as easily as it can be criticised
That the sum, the product, the denominator, of any equation involving people is always one
That one and one make one.
That ten times ten is one
That a straight young white man and an elderly gay black woman add up to one
Like drops of water add up to an ocean.
Like rays of light add up to sunshine.
Like snow flakes add up to majestic.

I find
That humanity is earths greatest masterpiece.
That in every person is an artist
That in every existence there is perfection

I find
Myself overwhelmed
That an open heart is real love
That real love is overwhelming
That being overwhelmed is beautiful

I find
That one should never stop exploring

And
I find
I find
I find