About The Blog

Arthor Journer is my pen name.
"Arthor" comprises "art" + "Author" while "Journer" defines the journey that I was on and continue to travel.
In this blog is the emotional byproduct of this journey.

"Rites of Art" is the title because it is my "writes" of passage.

Thursday, December 27, 2012

A Brand New Day

Time is fleeting so I give swift  chase
My emotions and fading dreams to finally erase
There is a chasm that my mind tries to fill
With toys and stories that feign with the unreal
Plastic people and ghosts of emotions
Deaf auctioneers with lack luster devotions
But there midst the grime crowds of pride and lust
I found a precious gem, a diamond in the rough
My time still disappears as swift as the morning fog
But with each minute comes the death of demons and demagogues
There is now a completeness that fills every chasm every whole
The shackles now lifted off of my burdened soul
Senses now alive and attract good like honed magnets
Pockets full and a complete cancellation of all of my debts
So there is a new horizon that adorns my morning sky
I have been gifted with new wings to fly


Pantomime is a friend of mine that wakes me every morn
He whispers in my ear words I don't want to hear
Tries to convince me to curse the ideas that will be born
Pantomime has a quiet resign and when I am weak appears
He twists the dagger deep into my side
Where my soul resides and gags my mouth so I can't speak
Pantomime infiltrates my mind and puts glasses on my eyes
He narrates things that I see possibilities that won't be
And reality he masks with a cleaver disguise
Pantomime is easy to find in the shadow of every idea
He colors the sun black tells me things to get me off track
And condemns with attacks my prescribed panaceas
Pantomime always distorts time telling me it's too soon or too late
He shows me his watch and plans that are botched
And my heartless hope he saturates
Pantomime is never kind yet I keep him so very near
He listens to my moans with my doubts makes me feel at home
Shrouds my failures with blankets of fear
Pantomime drunkens me like a sweet wine and fogs my thoughts
Right appears wrong and clatter seems like a song
Success and home strangled by strings of doubt

Uniquely Me

My life a sculpture that is being chiseled and shaped
Revealing more of my essence with each passing day
My vision of myself sometimes very different from what I am becoming
My will to stand still sometimes stronger than the one to keep running
There are times my mind struggles and lifts up perilous pleas
Days that I spend alone grovelling or praying on my knees
Yet the stronger I get I let go of more and more
I see parts of what shall be and once treasured pieces on the floor
The sound of the hammering deafening to my sensitive ears
Sanding and scrapping sometimes resulting in seasons of tears
But it is a cleansing a molding that i must endure
So that the real me thrives survives and is pure
I notice that there are parts more solid than some
Where my grasp is tighter and much more stubborn
And there there are minuscule sacrifices
That willingly I abandon these familiar vices
I am not sure in the end what for I will be
But I am sure that it will be uniquely me

Wednesday, December 26, 2012

Try Not To Forget These Words

Try not to forget these tender words spoken
Don't throw them in the air as a worthless token
For in them are both solace and alarms
Gifts of peace and destruction in my able arms
For in them are fins, wheels and wings
Crowns for the impoverished and humility for kings
For in them are arid deserts and cool seas
Granting of wishes and denial of sincere pleas
For in them are seeds and soil for birth and graves
Openness of a cleared field or the solitude of caves
Try not to dismiss these pregnant words sung
Don't cast them away like trash or flush them like dung
For in them are barren farms  and bounteous grain
Seasons of drought and skies full of rain
For in them are thoughts and souls exposed
A blossoming cactus and a fading brilliant rose
For in them are miracles and denial on streets
Baptizing wine for honorees and fools gold for thieves
For in them are sweat and blood in a sacrifice
For in them are the melody of death and life

The Warming - The Warning

The Sun said yesterday that it won't always be around
The soil said it won't always be fertile ground
The sea said its waves may one day be full of blood
The sky said it may one day rain ash and mud
Echoes will haunt the souls that didn't heed the warning
Their ears were deaf to the cries of global warming

As the ghosts and demons creep from Pandora's lid
Years from now we will question why we did what we did
Tears from Mother Nature will soak the driven shores
As we have treated her like a worthless ugly whore

Echoes will haunt the souls that didn't heed the warning
Their ears were deaf to the cries of global warming

Our children's children will put our lives on trial
For the crimes against the land and air that were so vile

Yet the sentence will be served by them we will be mute
For we will suffer guilt but they will suffer from our fruit

Echoes will haunt the souls that didn't heed the warning
Their ears were deaf to the cries of global warming

One With the Sea

My soul lay on the sand
Watching the strength of the sea
As the waves reach for me
We both in complete tranquility

The River Forgiveness

There is a river called Forgiveness
My soul jumped in baptized by the coolness
All dirt was washed downstream
Revealing purpose and wide dreams
My brother with whom I had ought against
Came to the river to jump in
To wash away some vileness and sin
I tried to stop him from taking this leap
Stop him from hiding the dirt in the deep
But I realized that I could only do this
Was to get out of Forgiveness.


Lost like a rain drop in the ocean's grip
Lost like the words that tremble on my lip
My emotions are fruit in a dark deep forest
They seek the light and joy of your tender breast
But there is no map where "X" marks the spot
No GPS to reveal this dream that is sought

Lost like an ant that has stumbled on a plane
Lost like a watercolor masterpiece left in the rain
My devotions at the bottom of the deep dark sea
They seek the gentle warmth of your  fig tree
But there is no radar to guide my fragile craft
No search light to direct my sinking life raft

Lost like a candle on the surface of a star
Lost like the note of sweat on my wilted guitar
My oceans of love flowing up rivers and streams
They seek the sweet nectar of your vaulted dreams
But there is no path or footsteps in sand to follow
No legend or book to deflect my travels of sorrow

Sunday, December 23, 2012

To be in Love

To be in Love
Is to be naked with only a slight blush
Is to not think about every word or every touch

To be in Love
Is to Jump from the cliff to be in her arms
Is to know that your soul will not be harmed

To be in Love
Is to be entangled in/by the emotions of your lover
Is to see every fault every blemish covered

To be in Love
Is to ignore the sun and the moon and constricts of time
Is to have a saturation of peace and joy in your mind

To be in Love
 Is to sing songs off tune yet the birds still admire
Is to be purified by a kiss sanctified by fire

To be in Love
Is to walk through the rain as if it were sunshine
Is to be drunkened by a touch as if it were wine