I fly into the night far and beyond in search of otherworldly delight. There in its capacious splendour are colour spectrums unidentified, aching to be acquainted with the lunacy of artists and their matrimony between vision and technique; the Chiaroscuro, the Gouache, the Tempera, the silhouettes and the shadows that which they see in the … Continue reading unravelling, transcribing, translating, educating.
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Beauty is a gravitational pull – you cannot deny its existence nor resist its control, and in many cases you aren’t aware of yourself for a few moments until something drops... and you need something to drop so that time may continue.
Their controversies emblazoned the heavens, the three brothers, Zeus, Poseidon and Hades brawling irresponsibly like stubborn boys, causing catastrophic capricious weather storms, of lightning and thunder sporadically bouncing about like ping pong balls, while tempest seas gather their armies of high crested waves, and haunt their troughs with the wailings of winds, forcing a war … Continue reading the Execution of Beautiful things
The camera that photographed moments in time of my father, preserved his pulchritudinous in the photo albums...
They all say - I see - but they really don’t see. I can see that they aren’t actually looking despite their views. They all like to say - I know what you mean! or, I understand completely - Oh bugger off! Would you
For some, it seems, the ones who love life to its fullest, never a moment wasted upon stagnant things but rather frivolously and voluptuously harness the breath of winds, the laughter upon lips, sites a boundary to be crossed, to be naked within leaping into thresholds that at least sprinkle discomfort; for those, life is … Continue reading For Some and For Others
My King is archaic. He rapes me every day. Breathes his ale stench breath on my youth while I wait for him to finish. Chained to the icy floor beside his bed, my legs spread to his liking; an easy in and out for when he needs to feast upon me. My arms rest above … Continue reading my King is archaic
The world at wake is hardship and agony. The plight of all for or against others, wretches and tears at my flesh, thinly laced covering muscle and bone and nerves and veins, and what for? For the pain of sight for site upon our ego centric obsessions with others to find ourselves. Our species, inhumane, … Continue reading why did You give life to me
I am at a bay window, staring out onto a canvas of another world into another life, there is ash everywhere and nothing else, - just dashes of whites and plenty of greys' that continue for miles beyond their graves. There are no such things as light and dark, no shapes of clouds, no curves … Continue reading at the Bay Window
The world is made up of dreamers and writers, poets and painters, quills and paintbrushes, paper and canvases. We are the shapeshifters, the pave masters, the strings of the Harp or bow for the arrow. We are the manifestations of gods and kings, culture and religion, living and dying. Without creators, time would not have … Continue reading the Dreamers & the Dream makers