Full Moon : Dry Dopamine

Full Moon Dry Dopamine

The other day I uploaded a poem lacking audio to continue this video series. Well, here’s the audio, including other recorded drafts from writing of experiences down in Oaxaca, brought back up to Tucson, & finally grounded into a performance over-looking downtown Tucson’s ambling & passing trains.

“how do you wake marrow up to the pain it’s feeling—”

“FULL MOON : DRY DOPAMINE”

Tucson, AZ, US, 4.5.18

 


The Star, A Decision 

It’s funny—these were recorded on this past Full Moon, a day that all my prior lil plans fell apart, & I received a new tarot deck that shuffled me more than I it as we walked silent dead yacked out night thru deader parks under bruised purple sky w. silent homie & silent lips & a tarot reading that read again & again of Temperance  Temperance  Temperance  —a warning & an invitation.

Then, heh, of all the decks potential mirrors, Justice fell from the shuffle, into my lap, face up, staring, rigid, holding her scepter—& that, that mothafucker up in the sky, that bright bringer of rise & fall & tide… laughed. Like water. The shape of water Temperance watches shift & gurgle & rush & coil like millions of lil blue snakes coagulated together between the jars she holds in either hand.

That night continued into details that can be left unexplained to this medium. Those there know the directions it took. Regardless, that night felt like an incarnation of the exact definition of habit I’ve been working w, “trying to recreate the past in the present.”

Well that shit failed. Here’s some testimony to it, where there is no Temperance, where the moon is veiled, where there is no absolutes or absolution.

& no… healing. At least, not beyond performing the notebook scrawls & scratches to embody the emotions, & attempt further release by making them public 

“WRITE THE POEM, RECORD, UPLOAD,”

“This poem’s a continuation of the “Write The Poem, Record, Upload” series, a compilation of “first-drafts” recorded & performed to ground cultivating a humility that’s not self-loathing.

The series is posted + archived in a FB photo-album. Add me as a ‘friend‘ (whatever that means to you), or click ‘follow‘ (whatever that means to you) to keep up.

If you’re not down w. FB, another option is to view the series’s on-site “Table of Contents,” & follow the gathering mileage + poems via @RuntRaccoon on IG.

Much gratitude to the folks that have helped me get this far ❤

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Full Moon : Silence

“MAKING SPACE TO FEEL :  

Tucson, AZ, US, 4.3.18


[ update : this was an experiment w. removing the audio to make space for others to insert themselves : their words over the hand motions, & interpret it w. their reactions + feelings : maybe this experiment needs more intent instead of mad midnight scrambles. we’ll see how similar experiments form in the future, w. more intent on their production + release—thanks for listening  ]

“WRITE THE POEM, RECORD, UPLOAD,”

“This poem’s a continuation of the “Write The Poem, Record, Upload” series, a compilation of “first-drafts” recorded & performed to ground cultivating a humility that’s not self-loathing.

The series is posted + archived in a FB photo-album. Add me as a ‘friend‘ (whatever that means to you), or click ‘follow‘ (whatever that means to you) to keep up.

If you’re not down w. FB, another option is to view the series’s on-site “Table of Contents,” & follow the gathering mileage + poems via @RuntRaccoon on IG.

Much gratitude to the folks that have helped me get this far ❤

What’s The Difference Between The Physiological & Psychological? Nothing. Eat Me.

jeremiah-walton-poetry
Eat them, then watch Jeremiah’s poem, or, maybe watch the poem, then eat them. Regardless of your appetite, for Walton or distraction, there’s no walls separating the physiological & physical.

This poem “I Hate My Body : On Making Love” is the first piece in this “Write The Poem, Record, Upload,” series I’ve been anxious to upload—but that’s the point of this, learning to use “social media publishing” to let go of shame surrounding vulnerabilities, to practice that elusive healing hiding under scabs & over futures (futures yanked full-torque by renditions of the past forgetting the present & wrenching a volatile sensation of aliveness associated w. aliveness) & to slow down into acknowledging hurts while continuing to grow, expand, consume & produce.

Luckily, there’s plenty of anxiety left to spread over following pieces as new spaces for new feelings are made.

jeremiah-walton-video-poem-3
I Hate My Body : On Making Love

All that shit. I’m still in the space between burning myself off the internet

or…..not sure. Yet. To quote a line in the next video to be posted :

“Maybe I should crash my car in Panama, say I did what I could
to sacrifice the scapegoats & hold the ideation accountable—well, at least
until this note smolders w. life—or maybe,”

but that’s not today’s poem. Today’s more… “outside those mornings

that crack open your car w. dawn’s yolk, & you open the door 
& the air sticks up your skin for water, mugs you
awake, & reminds you, ‘aye—ain’t that

your body right there…?'”

**inhales** Okay. Those words aren’t in the poem,
but maybe they’re between the performance & the page. **exhales**

Fuck it. Here it is :

“I HATE MY BODY : ON MAKING LOVE”

Gate’s Pass, Arizona, ~4.9.18

 


 

Shout out to Suza Weise for coming out w. me to film this, & helping hold up the piece in all that wind. Suza’s a dope Tucson artist & practitioner of integrative healing. Dig her love & work on Patreon as she moves towards creating a podcast on vulnerability & healing ❤

& thank you desert stars : shadows : cacti : these shadows’ shadows : those coyote howls : those mountains : all these forms moving thru the imaginative dark & massaging this form w. a silence that allowed these muscles to relax for the first time since I’ve been back in Tucson 

Yeah, & a little pot helped w. the after-care.

“WRITE THE POEM, RECORD, UPLOAD,”

“This poem’s a continuation of the “Write The Poem, Record, Upload” series, a compilation of “first-drafts” recorded & performed to ground cultivating a humility that’s not self-loathing.

The series is posted + archived in a FB photo-album. Add me as a ‘friend‘ (whatever that means to you), or click ‘follow‘ (whatever that means to you) to keep up.

If you’re not down w. FB, another option is to view the series’s on-site “Table of Contents,” & follow the gathering mileage + poems via @RuntRaccoon on IG.

&, I mean, I guess you can also hit me up on all 3… ya know? Show some love to this weird kid who’s shit w. self-promotion! Thanks for the support y’all!

& much gratitude to the folks that have helped me get this far ❤

An Attempt To Exercise Humility That Doesn’t Confuse Itself w. Self-Loathing

jeremiah walton rest 2
writing process

RECORDING AN EXORCISM

EXPELLING SELF-LOATHING FROM WHAT’S BEEN CONSIDERED HUMILITY

This is the poem that kicked off the “Write The Poem, Upload, Record” series—an exercise in humility & using social media publishing to shed shame, be vulnerable, & learn compassion for the parts of myself I hate.

To unlearn humility as self-loathing & learn it as an active silence, receptive dialogue.

Reactions & red ink are welcome, though that’s not the point of these scribbles & scrapes. You can read up on the series, & its intent, at the FB album used to compile the poems.

Also, add me as a ‘friend’ (whatever that means to you), or click ‘follow’ to keep up w. the posts! This site, while it’ll be regularly updated, is more like a fishing net to bring people in to the community that’s forming over there.

I’m also throwing updates on the series & travels thru @RuntRaccoon on IG

I’m awkward w. that self-promotion shit, so thank ya for bearing thru w. me. Let’s dig into the weird-side back-stage shots of this confused head-space bumbling around the country ❤

“REST WELL”

Tucson Greyhound, AZ, US, 1.22.18

 


“WRITE THE POEM, RECORD, UPLOAD,”

The “Write The Poem, Record, Upload” series is posted + archived in a FB photo-album.  You can add me as a ‘friend‘ (whatever that means to you), or click ‘follow‘ (whatever that means to you) to keep up.

If you’re not down w. FB, another option is to view the series’s on-site “Table of Contents,”

Much gratitude to the folks that have helped me get this far ❤

Gratitude For The Silence Smoke Brought

love who you can as the world burns
Tucson, AZ

THE WATER IN THE FIRE

Each of us wrote our intents down. The intents were held by paper, by our hands, our heads, & we sat still—focusing on the inhale : exhale : inhale : release. We sat silent to try & embody what we intended to burn, what we intended to leave behind & accept.

Here, “love who you can as the world burns” was written & filmed, just outside the cement scrape of Tucson’s city limits. The hill we stood on over-looked miles of saguaro & cholla, & paled in the sun against distant cloud shadows crawling over mountains like the backsides of prayers that didn’t quite make it into the fire they were thrown to, or

maybe like the slow crawl of tears being released after centuries of damming.

A friend’s tobacco they’d grown was placed in a metal bowl. They lit it. When each individual felt they’d personally embodied their intent, they’d toss their paper into the fire. Our intents unified in the  & smoke & ash.

We ate baked baked that morning, & left a small loaf for the desert 

Here’s a good reminder why this body’s back in Tucson; as it’s been murky & lonely & sober (mostly) out here, living outta the car & quietly moving w. the poems to learn to go thru instead of against.

Thank you for inviting me to make space physically to ground myself, & get outta my fucking head for an afternoon ❤

FINAL NOTE before the poem; shout out to Suza Weise for helping film this piece ❤  Suza’s a dope Tucson artist & practitioner of integrative healing—dig her love & work on Patreon as she moves towards creating a podcast on vulnerability & healing 

“love who you can as the world burns

Tucson’s Outskirts, AZ, US, 3.25.18

 

 


“WRITE THE POEM, RECORD, UPLOAD,”

This poem’s a continuation of the “Write The Poem, Record, Upload” series, a compilation of “first-drafts” recorded & performed to ground cultivating a humility that’s not self-loathing.

The series is posted + archived in a FB photo-album. Add me as a ‘friend‘ (whatever that means to you), or click ‘follow‘ (whatever that means to you) to keep up.

If you’re not down w. FB, another option is to view the series’s on-site “Table of Contents,” & follow the gathering mileage + poems via @RuntRaccoon on IG.

&, I mean, I guess you can also hit me up on all 3… ya know? Show some love to this weird kid who’s shit w. self-promotion! Thanks for the support y’all!

& much gratitude to the folks that have helped me get this far ❤

 

 

Stop Shaming People For Wanting To Die

TW : This post & poem discusses suicide (including ideation, attempts, & death), addiction, & self-harm.

jeremiah-walton-birth
“This Is My Body, I Guess,” Veracruz, Mexico

I DON’T KNOW WHAT HEALING FEELS LIKE, BUT IT DEFINITIVELY DOESN’T INVOLVE YOU INTRODUCING YOURSELF INTO THE SITUATION w. A TONGUE LEASHED TO DOGMATIC SYSTEMS OF VALUE

[ NOTE : at the bottom of this post are links to resources relating
to healing, prevention, & communities ]

I’ve been called selfish for attempting to kill myself.

I’ve also been shamed for forms of self-harm our culture does not consider acceptable.

I’ve been shamed as an addict, relating to a variety of drugs & alcohol—though, interestingly enough, if you create something “artsy enough,” people often excuse, entirely-overlook, or rationalize non-prescription drug use as a “normal, necessary part of the creative process & drive.” 

…but if you have a hat out on the sidewalk, asking for change?

“Junky. Lazy. Fuck off.”

Though kindness does show face, & these are strong generalizations, the predatory nature of these insecure cultural hierarchies quivers when something the individual doesn’t want to acknowledge within themselves is externally clear in someone else.

“Over-doses are natural selection.”

Institutionalized standards regarding the medication of trauma creates space for people who have more societally acceptable addictions/coping mechanisms for their pain, such as television series, eating (though, pending on your body processes & gender-presentation, billboards & vultures will gauge how they shame), sex (again, pending—), cigarettes, work, intellectualizing emotions, etc/etc/etc, to distance themselves & look down upon people medicating their pain/traumas w. addictions that are not acceptable, such as heroin, meth, benzos, RCs, stolen scripts, etc/etc/etc.

“People who commit suicide only think of themselves.”

I’ve watched homies shamed for expressing a desire to die by folks they’re close to, or share on how they’ve been shamed for sharing w. others that they’ve been thinking about suicide. Search “suicide shame” on The Icarus Projects’ FB group, & you’ll find swatches of people sharing their stories in a communal space that won’t rip into you for expressing ideation / attempts / desires.

Leave these smaller corners of the internet, & it’s not hard to find people shaming suicide + addiction…

Stop shaming people for wanting to die 

Shame doesn’t help anyone heal  

This poem (& post) is definitively not comprehensive, or asserting itself to be. The predacious aspects of this culture, & the systems of thought it cultivates, targets groups to varying degrees based on their identity, whether it’s race, sexual orientation, documents, religion, or any other expression of a person that doesn’t fit the billboard standards of marketed colonial-american morality.

This poem & post are post-it notes floating on a pond of experiences I can & cannot relate to. The scribbles & scratches here are attempts to take a step w. being vulnerable w. my own shit, & attempt to release some internalized experiences that someone else may benefit from.

“STOP SHAMING PEOPLE FOR WANTING TO DIE”

El Panchan, Chis, MX, 3.18.18

 


RESOURCES REGARDING SUICIDE & HEALING

If you any suggestions for mental health resources to include, please contact me w. “I Deserve Love” in the subject line of your email.

“WRITE THE POEM, RECORD, UPLOAD,”

“This poem’s a continuation of the “Write The Poem, Record, Upload” series, a compilation of “first-drafts” recorded & performed to ground cultivating a humility that’s not self-loathing.

The series is posted + archived in a FB photo-album. Add me as a ‘friend‘ (whatever that means to you), or click ‘follow‘ (whatever that means to you) to keep up.

If you’re not down w. FB, another option is to view the series’s on-site “Table of Contents,” & follow the gathering mileage + poems via @RuntRaccoon on IG.

&, I mean, I guess you can also hit me up on all 3… ya know? Show some love to this weird kid who’s shit w. self-promotion! Thanks for the support y’all!

& much gratitude to the folks that have helped me get this far ❤

jeremiah walton write the poem record upload series
“I deserve love. // You deserve love.”

The Ocean Doesn’t Give A Damn : Keep Writing

jeremiah-walton-reading-poetry

SEEKING PUBLISHING MEDIUMS THAT ARE HEALTHY EXTENSIONS OF THE POEM

This site’s been dormant as an in-active archive of absence for the past couple of years, since about 2015, or so? I’m not sure. I’d reclused into travel & writing without the submission process, any gatekeepers, answering emails (well, outside working Nostrovia! Press), any consistent social media postings… None of that.

I’d spent 16-20 obsessed w. all that shit.

My writing reclused in journals, larger projects, scattered collages, phone notes, quiet readings over wine in front of open ovens, & spontaneous ciphers held down when a stage unexpectedly manifests w. an imagined mic on some rooftop not here. I completely reclused my poems into my travel, folded messily in irl performances, & completely disregarded digital release.

& that’s what I needed then. Not sure if this is what’s needed now,

but we’ll see. This site, this space, beginning w. this piece, is working on catching up w. the Write The Poem, Record, Upload,” a series of “first-drafts” that kicked off in January on FB w. the intent of learning practice a humility that’s not self-loathing.

Here’s one of the first attempts :

“THE PACIFIC EATS WORDS”

Zipolite, Oax., MX, 3.5.18

 


“WRITE THE POEM, RECORD, UPLOAD,”

“This poem’s a continuation of the “Write The Poem, Record, Upload” series, a compilation of “first-drafts” recorded & performed to ground cultivating a humility that’s not self-loathing.

The series is posted + archived in a FB photo-album. Add me as a ‘friend‘ (whatever that means to you), or click ‘follow‘ (whatever that means to you) to keep up.

If you’re not down w. FB, another option is to view the series’s on-site “Table of Contents,” & follow the gathering mileage + poems via @RuntRaccoon on IG.

&, I mean, I guess you can also hit me up on all 3… ya know? Show some love to this weird kid who’s shit w. self-promotion! Thanks for the support y’all!

& much gratitude to the folks that have helped me get this far ❤