Yonkers poet Nikko Marata has ventured into cellophane art in the past few months. He has found that it’s a different, more effective medium in which he can convey his work.
He has been waiting for someone to save him from his old ways, but no one has even ever come close to feeling the texture of his heart. He has been waiting for the land, sea, and stars… the whole universe itself to change for him, but it became eventually apparent that he was waiting for absolutely nothing. He has been hoping for the sweet yet bitter taste of the fruit of freedom, but does such a fruit even exist? He has been waiting for long-preached divinity and self-justified indoctrination to somehow give him answers, but ultimately, the grand prize turned out to be false hope. The boy… the little boy waited for humanity ITSELF to take his pain away, but human nature was too great an obstacle to be overcome by what the boy called… or used to call, love.
Devoid of what he truly held dear and failed by the most powerful of all forces, the little boy was forced to find answers within the labyrinth of his own mind – within his own shadows that are automatically created even in the presence of the greatest of lights.
A flash of brilliant color. Behold…. Bear witness to this little boy’s escape. Behind his eyes lays the reality that has played his symphony of pain flawlessly to great effect. It was an orchestra of ignorance, venom, and drizzling broken glass. This little world was his very own. His imagination engendered this escape filled with pure, untouched beauty. Blissful tears of childlike innocence, that of Eve before her dreadful fate, held his escape world in its longing arms. The boy never wanted his escape to be brightly lit, as real people would have wanted theirs. They want verdant grasslands, marble-white stallions, playful azure skies, oceans carved by Poseidon’s perfecting trident itself, castles forged from the glimmering ores of deep Earth, a climate that seemed to dance along the bold line between frost and flame, and magical woodland creatures – the lovechildren of fantasy and chimera. Bright lights… the boy always wondered why they wanted bright lights in their escapes. He did want light in his: but only enough to provide vision, yet not enough to blind a person. Yet they want incredibly hot lights, not unlike the sun, that almost dominate their escape worlds solely through blinding prismatic light. They never understood that these succubus lights could alter their perceptions and ultimately, blind them… TRAP them in their own mind. The lights merge together and create what the boy, and everyone for that matter, fears: shadows. The shadows almost convinced the little boy that his escape world was the real world. The shadows almost coerced him into being suspended in the animation of unreality. He was almost persuaded into deep depression, as a consequence of his beautiful soothing fantasy contrasted against the backdrop of a harsh and painful reality. This realization… set him free.
He opened his eyes, and what lay before him was the reality that he often feared so much, the non-fiction that he wanted to run away from as fast as possible. But now, all he saw was perfection. Beautiful, unstained, infallible, ineffable perfection. The teenager laughed to himself. He set out to show the world what his escape looked like. Because maybe, they might see through its lens, to find the beauty that, all along, was right in front of them.” -Nikko Marata
Article written by: Jamihla Fergus