Art Without Fame

Art Without Fame by Valerie Parente

Artistic displays without God-like fame gets you weird looks.
Promiscuous fashion without hollow passion gets you unsold books.
Poetic mindsets without a publisher’s subtext gets you ridiculed.
Free expression without others’ discretion gets you verbal abuse.
Because it’s okay to feel hurt
as long as you have a following
and it’s okay to create stories
as long as you’re not being honest
but the moment you draw from your real life
without the public’s hype
that’s when they call you the bad guy;
Because art without fame is just the diary of a lunatic.
Love without a mate gets you deemed the psycho chick.
And this is not a complaint, just a reminder that I’m aware of it.
So bid me your hate, I’m already immune to it.

I’ve learned to accept that when you merge intellect with fishnets
as a way to project an explicit mindset and mental health awareness
you’ll get teased by the rest but I’m okay with that test
because I’ve overcome too much stress against the odds of my illness
to still give a fraction of a shit.

– Valerie Parente (1-12-2021)

An Artist’s Prerogative

An Artist’s Prerogative by Valerie Parente

If I’m prude
in today’s mood
then that can creep
in my pen’s muse.
But it’s also my prerogative
if I want to be provocative
and I shouldn’t have to explain
just the same.

Call it vanity,
call it obscene,
call it everything you want it to be,
because you say what should be forbidden fruit
based on the very impulses you don’t give in to
and an artist does not need to coincide
with the expressions you try to hide
and I’ll be damned if I start
to censor myself in my art.

Call it explicit,
call it raw,
call it everything I foresaw.
I tried to come up with a million reasons,
an answer to every single grievance
but I realized
in my confines
that I shouldn’t have to justify
how I display what’s on my mind.
It’s my job to evoke a feeling,
that part of you begging for healing,
and if uneasiness comes into play
then those qualms were never meant to stay.
We elicit what we need
to evolve into a higher breed
and artistic expression is that key
making censorship its enemy.

– Valerie Parente (12-27-2020)

Like My Dolls

Like My Dolls by Valerie Parente

I just want to be like my dolls
without the judgement from them all,
a mystery in the shape of a female,
representing aesthetic fairytales,
provocative yet innocent,
the way I see myself in my head,
that’s where I belong
in the silhouette of a doll.

As my peers reach milestones
full of romance and growing old
I can’t quite relate
because my timeline isn’t the same
but when I touch plastic and porcelain
I can grow without forcing
through stories propped on the wall
in the silhouette of a doll.

– Valerie Parente (11-29-2020)

Copyrighted

Copyrighted by Valerie Parente

I own exclusive legal rights to the words from this mouth
drawn by my tongue
always right and never wrong
because I feel how I’m meant to
in the phrases that come through
they’re from me to you.
If you love it, I do too
but if you hate it, I don’t know you.

– Valerie Parente (10-27-2020)

Like Fine China (Analysis)

Like Fine China Analysis

I wrote this poem, “Like Fine China“, without fully understanding what my subconscious was trying to tell me. After reading it a couple of times I realized the meaning behind the words. Fine China is the symbol for making art (something beautiful) out of sadness. The sadness is a constant cycle that manifests itself like patterns on fine China, royal “blue” (sad) details that I’ve etched upon the surface (my writing). When I have days that I break down, the porcelain breaks down, and I could use the jagged pieces of sadness to hurt myself but instead I choose to use them to build a display out of the broken pieces in the form of a porcelain vase (art from my mental breakdown) and there I show off pretty flowers (rhymes through poetry). The problem that arises from creating art out of sadness, sometimes sadness that a 3rd party might see as “old news”, is that these emotions I’ve recited are as good as dead to the world, hence why the flowers in the fine China vase I’ve built are decaying. The wonder in this, though, is that those decaying flowers offer me, the writer, solace. The cycle of sadness and creativity continues as the decaying flowers become a beautiful floral tea that I turn to for comfort as a grieve the ongoing pain I’m still in. Other people don’t see the benefit of the flowers (writing about perpetual pain), but I do. The entire process from fine china to a floral tea is cathartic, as is the artistic process, and in the end I feel okay and like I can survive my own mental state. Alas, a new day comes, the sadness inevitably returns as I am overwhelmed with reminders from the real world, and the pretty pain goes back to being “too pretty to comprehend” (commentary on not fully understanding what I was writing in the poem itself “Like Fine China”). Thus the entire breaking down of fine china (delving into an artistic outlet) occurs again.

Isn’t it incredible how art can be completely mindless but reveal something so profound in the mind it spawns from?

– Valerie Parente (10-6-2020)

Like Fine China

Like Fine China by Valerie Parente

How can one be so strong and indestructible
yet appear like fine china, so fragile.
Royal blue details drawn on clay
art on top of an artistic display.
Breaking as I break down
a million pieces so jagged and profound.
I could use them to separate my skin
instead I made a vase out of porcelain.
I filled the china like a beautiful bouquet
with flowers that had already decayed
and everybody calls me a sick freak
because I can still see their beauty
but it’s them who fail to see
that dead flowers make great tea
and I’ll sip it as I grieve
remembering how it felt to be
like fine china, too pretty to comprehend
until they break me down again.

– Valerie Parente (10-5-2020)