Intuition navigates through skies and storms on a journey through the cycles of change. The novel, told through individual poetry and free form pieces, is an introspective look at the writers kaleidoscopic mind; documenting every success and failure through the tumultuous process of growth.
Traveling through foreign cities, Intuition tests ones self reliance, ability to trust fate, capability to adapt to uncertainties and attain a stronger sense of self as the writer breaks down the pillars of the past to reform a new state of mind, in all his broken glory.
Intuition navigates through skies and storms on a journey through the cycles of change. The novel, told through individual poetry and free form pieces, is an introspective look at the writers kaleidoscopic mind; documenting every success and failure through the tumultuous process of growth.
Traveling through foreign cities, Intuition tests ones self reliance, ability to trust fate, capability to adapt to uncertainties and attain a stronger sense of self as the writer breaks down the pillars of the past to reform a new state of mind, in all his broken glory.
My life comprises of fractured waves and spinning compasses; of numbing thoughts that stretch into the blank expanse of the horizon, fizzling into oblivion. My life comprises of memories sealed in glass bottles and thrown overboard, floating away from remembrance.
My life comprises of lost laughs, flickering faces, intoxicated states and bonds that break the bounds of time. Retracing each day, each place on maps that lead from one country to the next, one moment to the other, the what was to what is. I follow the dots that guide this voyage, without knowing the destination, without knowing what X marks the spot.
My life comprises of sailing beyond the unknown, floating forever or crashing and capsizing. There is no trajectory, no direction. With fleeting memories of all that I have experienced. Held, treasured, let go.
-Â Feeling X
I need to do things to feel more alive,
Take drugs to widen my eyes,
Paint days to move from
The greys,
The ways,
We’re living today,
Is killing us slowly, In these altered states.
I live my life as if I’m on display,Â
The judgment is never away,
The clouds rolling rain
To the sea,
I think,
That most everything, Is just an illusion,
To keep us happy.
We’re driving,
We’re headed,
Down the wrong dream.
-Â Wasted
Strength is required to remove and detach yourself from what you’ve grown up in. The same house. The same streets. The same days stuck repeating themselves in the same skin. I’ve become stiff. I’ve stopped growing. I’ve yet to pinpoint what marks growth effectively as my growth comes and goes in sharp spurts up and landslides down, but I know the first sign of growth is when everything around me starts to rot. I start to turn on myself, no longer breathing air which has been polluted for so many years. I then start ripping everything down, packing up. I don’t know if moving to a newer place either marks self-growth or merely presents you with illusions of change, however at this point, I need clear air.
- Clear Air
It always astounds me, the thought, the millions of people we encounter in our lives. Complete strangers, yet commonalities keeping us connected. With every glance and expression sparking a certain feeling of wonder between us. Intrigued, with potential just at the tip of our tongues. Maybe we will meet, maybe we will just pass for a moment. Though our energies shared, a smile, with no word spoken can still be enough to remind that there is love everywhere. Through any storm, through any dark day.
-Â Unbreakable Bonds
Some days I’m high by turquoise waters,Â
Some days in clouds of grey.
I try to act the best in hopes
That all I love can stay.
Impermanence embraced,
Still carried away the best,
Of what I thought was right for me,
But now I’ve passed the test.
Identified, though I admit,
Dark tendencies run deep,
Trials train self-worth
To finally end
The War in Me
- War In Me
I still don’t know
What it means to be myself.
When I change so fast,
And feel like someone else.
Whom I never seem to recognize,Â
Trace everywhere I’ve been.
Flowers wilt, what does it mean,
To even be human?
The lives I’ve lived too long eventually must die.
People break from me, left alone, under the sky.
What if I forget myself?
My thoughts, all my dreams,
and shift into a stranger who likes and works for different things.
The essence there, I hope and trust through time I’ll still survive,
through constant deaths, all the rebirths of these 100 lives.
- 100 Lives
I can lose myself in all our laughs, That ring so loud, though never lasts. Broken records, repeating ourselves, Like witches casting broken spells. Life is a glorious goal in itself, Though sometimes I can never tell. Losing friends, new cities, new lives, Until I give my final sigh.
-Â Impermanence
Dominic Anton presents the world through his sapphire-colored glasses. Each piece is carefully constructed and yet offers a unique perspective of life. I felt the longing and empathy Anton exudes through his writing. The book includes hand-written notes and drawings that make you feel like the author opened a window into his mind.
One of my favorite poems in the collection is "Soul Separate." Anton discusses the search for love, perhaps in all the wrong places. Every line pleads with the universe to offer a soul mate. He writes,
wishing and waiting,
for the truest reflection,
for the mirrored heart.
In the poem "La Vie En Rose," the author implores the reader to see the pleasure and joy life can bring. Even in the brief moments of ecstasy brought on by choosing to forget your troubles can refresh your mind and body. His use of colorful and soft words enhances the beauty of the message. Anton writes,
In a lavender trance and saving
every sweet, rose-tinted state.
Even in the free-form passages, Anton expresses his thoughts with stunning lines such as, "Step by step. From dirt to diamonds" and. " Life is light in fragments of my mind that strive to breathe." The themes in the collection are varied, but the tone is elegant.
Intuition is a swirl of colors and emotions. When I read it, I felt transported back to 1950's Paris as if I were a character in a heartbreaking love story. And yet, the personal photographs, hand-written notes, and artwork make me feel as if Anton left his diary open for the world to read. I implore you to read this collection slowly so you can soak up the beautiful descriptions and phrases. Dominic Anton paints with words, and the image is one you will won't soon forget.