Author: stevehaarman

I see a blank canvas

Also an artist preparing

With his brushes and oils

Not in a hurry, as though

Trying to delay, for he

Does not know what the

Outcome will be.  It will

Come to him as he begins

I look at a blank page

As a poet preparing to fill it

With lines that are meaningful

I am not in a hurry, but rather

Adjusting my seating and

Thinking of a line to begin with

One finally comes; so I begin

The artist has various strokes

He uses many colors, as artists do

His work will be abstract for

As he continues to layer his acrylics

There is no definition on the canvas

But balance exists and a feeling of peace

My words slowly form in my mind

I type them out as quickly as I can

I have an idea that my muse will be about truth

I write about truth often and find

Many aspects of it, especially today

The absence of it in the media

There is no journalism to speak of

But many commentators reading

The same story using the same words

It is almost hilarious if it weren’t so serious

The artist stoops and sets his brushes down

He looks at his work on the canvas

Stands back and views is from a distance

Comes back, picks up his brush and adds

A flair here and there enhancing his work

He does this several times as though

Creativity synapses are volleying in his brain

He is finally satisfied and signs his name

He has found his truth just as

I have finished with my musing

I sign my name to my abstract

Hoping my readers will understand

     Steve Haarman aka Stanski

     January 3, 2021 ^

Evening falls early

Dark skies

Occasional sunset with

Magical coloring

Paints trees and towers

Freeing us of any thought

Leaving us alone with wonder

Reflection on childhood

And neighborhood friends

Who amongst them

Would you like to share

All that nature has brought you

The dreaming then of

These possibilities

Where would they be

And what do they see

As they look out at

Nature’s scene and

Could they possibly

Every think of me

My laughs and screams

No guessing

Or worries

We take what is here

Wish everyone well

What we had is gone

We wandered on

By chance or plan

What we have is here

Not in yesteryear

The past was good

Today has new needs

Provided by us and

Our new family of

Dreaming friends

By Steve Haarman aka Stanski

January 2, 2021 ^

My friends, my story

You know I tell the truth

I strum my instrument

Trying for new chords

Disenfranchisement has taken place,

The obvious has been darkened

A plot executed without a blush

Results tried to be questioned

But then what is the rush

I think of founding fathers

Do we question what they would think?

But then again why other

I would do anything for you

My only wish is that you are true

Betrayal is not in my music

Not even when I play the blues

So I linger just like you

Wondering what the truth will bring

My friends I love my music

But I cannot strum for a dark spring

We all know what is right

Persuasion is part of the fight

Shallow minds cannot comprehend

Until freedom is out of sight

My friends I keep on playing

Continue with my story

Our fight will continue

Until we reach our glory

Steve Haarman aka Stanski

January 1, 2021 ^

My thoughts come from deep

Where the synapses meet and

Energy is exposed as slander

And truth is not so neat

No one will read the words

Thinking it’s all absurd but

They know it’s truer than

Them walking away from it all

Oh and I can show them

That walking is not novel

Trial too much to bear

Have led to that route

Who makes all these rules?

An excited group of controlling ghouls

My thoughts now appear real

Suddenly have appeal

But truth works that way

Rules modified or goodbye

Where is the money then?

To support their mansions

Reality my friend sets in

The commission is drenched in sin

But know they have to modify

Top keep the populace satisfied

Adjustments will have appeal

No more license to steal

Ease on all regulations

Makes for a happy population

Steve Haarman aka Stanski

December 31, 2020 ^

I know the feeling of being loved

Forty-six years was not too much

But now that I am alone again

I sometimes feel out of touch

I know that I am kneeling

At the edge of my years

But I am young in spirit

Which endures beyond all fears

I do not need more challenges

Having faced more than my share

I want to dwell on what we call goodness

There is no reason that wouldn’t be fair

I have been abandoned in a snow storm

Left to struggle on my own, but

Know there is much more life to embrace

I am older but I am not worn

So I look for what is lost

Reject most of what is found

Am rejected by what I thought

Were possibilities and in the end

I was left scorned, but

I have hope and trust and

Know the real secret of love

I could draw on linen, a blue print

It would include what is lost and found

If I am left in isolation because

I was the obstacle to my success

I will remember that feeling of being loved

And will savor the feeling of the ultimate caress

Steve Haarman aka Stanski

December 30, 2020 ^

AFTER I HAVE KNEELED

I write to you my friends as one who has been around

I have seen many scenes and have heard many sounds

I have had my share of mentors; some didn’t know

They were, but their actions spoke loud;

Much louder than words

I have encountered many beings

As well as unbearable situations

The strong ones have a way of survival

The weak and helpless are the ones in need

I have seen mercy; my heart rejoices

Have witnessed cruelty; jumped away

Not for lack of courage, but wisdom

Reared its head and said just leave

I want to play music; put my words to song

It will have to wait for I know no chords

But there are minstrels I listen to

They sing the songs of joy, which come

From deliverance from a life without words

I know the pitch of freedom and

I can sing along with the rest

Do not have to be outstanding

I’m satisfied doing my best

There is a code of frozen love; I try to break that code,

But in the meantime there is much trash to unload

I do not want to travel to mars; am not a candidate

If I could I would go and

Collect rare minerals

But since I’ll stay I’ll focus

On a chemical called love

I’ll try to break the code

Find out what the password is in

The little town of Bethlehem

Where a baby savior is born

He grows to be a man and

Unlocks the secret of love

You just give your life for others

Not until it hurts, but

Until the very act feels good

I do not think that I am clever

And have everything figured out

But I know that goodness is supreme

And will be forever and forever

Steve Haarman aka Stanski

December 29, 2020 ^

Pretty busy beings

This time of year

Reaction taking over

Any modicum of planning

Order slips away

Hours tick by

Anxiety increases

Frustration replaces peace

You wonder why

Giving and taking

Wrapping and baking

Sales and returns

Traffic and lights

Tempers flair

It isn’t fair

Why is this always

Happening to you

Poor little you

Busy little beings

Often forgetting

What this is all about

Do not get set

On so many things

Of little consequence

Dismiss your anxieties

All so meaningless

Remember your brothers

Those at your side

Who provide joy

Give them your gratitude

Then you will feel

The incomprehensible peace

That safeguards your heart

And lifts your mind

Diluting and washing away

Sorrow and self pity

By Steve Haarman aka Stanski

December 28, 2020 ^

WILLIE JAMES JONES (deceased)

I met Willie James Jones at the Heartside Ministries on Division Avenue in the center of Grand Rapids Michigan.  The Ministry had room for artists who worked daily on their art.  They rarely missed a day.  Willie, like the others was unique.  He had his own style.  Some said it was like a grade school level, but it was his.  I don’t know where he lived or if he was a street person, but in his mind the gallery may have been home. 

I loved going to Heartside.  At first the artists were on guard, not knowing if I could be trusted.  I looked them in the eye and talked to them in a way that was not threatening.  As time passed, when I came into the gallery they all greeted me.  I was a friend and might buy some of their art.  They were always sincere and understood that I couldn’t buy every time I was there.  I was drawn to many of the artists, especially Willie.  He didn’t talk much—just answered your questions with one or two words.  He knew I liked his work but never pushed any of it on me. 

Sarah Scott was in charge of the Gallery.  She kept the order and all the artists worked together to keep things under control as many of them were on drugs and had mental problems.  She was gracious and remarkable.  Someone from the “Museum of Everything” in London, England contacted her.  They were interested in “Outsider Art” and had heard that she was a viable source.  She sent representative work of five of her artists, among them Willie, who was chosen and another artist who was deceased.  She raised over six thousand dollars and took Willie, herself and the sister of the deceased artist to London for the opening of the exhibition.  It was held at the Selfridge Department Store.  It stayed on exhibit for a month and then traveled a circuit in London.  Willie’s work is in the permanent collection as is the deceased artist, Mark Douglas Wilson.  Selfridge is the home of the Museum of Everything.

The three were there for the opening.  I was very happy for Willie and asked him if he enjoyed the trip—yep—and the honor—unhuh—are you happy—yes—are you going to retire—no.  Willie died a few years later at age sixty-six.  He always wore a fedora, a suit jacket and slacks.  He was always quiet, respectful, confident and sweet.  He is one of many featured in An Irregular Heartbeat:  The Artists of Heartside Gallery and studio.

Living in the U.P., I could not get to the Gallery as often as I would have liked.  When I did I was always received well.  I was not a threat, but a friend.  I cried when I heard of Willie’s death and said a prayer for him.  He was an inspiration to me.  He endured his struggle to the end; always showed up and did his work; and was respected by his peers.  He was another unique child of God, whose path was different than most.  I am left in awe.  There are many Willies among us, some recognized, some not, but all facing their own struggle.  It is wise to reach out to them in a sincere way and help them in the way that Jesus instructed us.  What could be a greater gift to Willie?  He was real, approachable and in the common denominator was one of us. 

I am a better person for having met him and know there are many Willies who need our love and support.  A commitment to goodness is much needed.  We can all take care of the things needing attention that are right in front of us.  We all have a role and Willie fulfilled his.  Be at peace, Willie.

By Steve Haarman, aka Stanski

September 28, 2020 ^

My friends, I’ll play my chords

But, you don’t understand me

I have gone the gamut for those I love

Some make my every move go askew

I know what I’m about, please listen

Fools try to trump me and then wave flags

They eventually fall down in disgust

I say this, my friends, not just to brag

Listen to the music I strum

What do the vibes do for your soul?

I pick and play my piece for you

A peaceful presentation to achieve your goal

I am here and listen to your cries

Wonder what you expect from me

As I sit here most willingly to

Help you wipe the tears from your eyes

Everything does not appear easy, friends

But not to try would be a sin

I listen to the play on the field

And know our effort will finally win

So, I’ll keep playing my songs for you

And you keep taking the steps

You never win with a single ambush

It takes many, countless reps

You know the chords, you’ve heard them

The message sent is mighty clear

You act for yourself, no one else can do it

After success it will all be so clear

Stanski

December 27, 2020 ^

Because you were talked down

Or out-shouted by the bold

You may feel defeated, but

It is the wild card that you hold

Otherwise known as the truth

Doesn’t the cream always rise?

Truly a sacred ally

For those who are the underdogs

The power of truth is deafening

Impostors should step aside

It must be used as a power club

You do not want a negative slide

Good ideas are shouted down

Opportunities are swept aside

Just because the majority listened

To the one who criticized

Learning is hard work

But we have had enough lessons

It is time to stand up and be heard

Enough of the B.S. sessions

Stanski

December 26, 2020 ^