We stood, clay formations, in awe of it's appeal
The shadow side of a towering mass, and darker dreams appeared
We'd never seen before on a perfect sphere a dim lit spot
And now we knew that we were wrought for more than happy tears
My crows in line symmetrical and quaint
I stood poised to rearrange the face
Of a planet I despised
But as I declared myself through crooked teeth a thief
The ground below my feet opened up and swallowed me inside
You took my empty form and crumbled it
You made it right again
You're so unkind
You stole my soul of vindication
You replaced it with a sentiment
That everything's just fine
As I approached to speak
The crowded mass of spears, gleamed high above the tiers
And the overwhelming stench of hypocrites delayed my tongue
But I spat into crowds of audience
And they stood back baffled in suspense as I pricked myself inside
And they watched it flow, an ebbing tide
You took my empty form and crumbled it
You made it right again
You traced the open lines
You stole my soul of vindication
You replaced it with a sentiment
That everything's just fine
Where can I run to?
I won't give it up.
You took my heart, empty save for stones
You carved it into bone
And now it shines with ivory
You took my hands, and fixed them up to play
Symphonic harmonies
You stole my words from me
You make me play love songs
You grinning light
You stole my anger twice
You crushed all of my spite
And you made me forget her
Allocate to me some time
To remind my what's divine
You stole my words from me
You make me play love songs
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Saturday, November 28, 2009
The Man Who Discovered Infinity Discovered Nothing
A life that is eternal, never actuatlly started.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Gravitation
I heard you screaming. You felt like it was all over, I could smell the fear on you. I stood, your fingertips to my toes, you clutching the last bit of dirt, and behind you, an expanse of sky like nothing else. You were crying and I was silently staring.
Your fingers, elegant, twisted like in a dance and you let the dirt slip from between your thumb and index. You carved a path through the sky in your mind and pretended you were falling. Perhaps you were, but I wasn't in much of a position to condescend.
See you had it wrong, I wasn't atop a cliff, I was underground. You were crouching on the last patch of dirt above my tightly packed frame. I was buried under the soil and you were trying to claw me out. So perhaps you were falling, but the sky did not consume you. It consumed me as I watched you try to revive what we both knew was no longer a soul. An empty encantation of what could have been a spark at one point, now added up to ash. Do not feel remorse, for I will feed the seeds growing beneath your feet, and I will grow into a mighty house of wood and denim and I will hold you closer inside of me than you have ever been.
Do not fall off the face of the Earth please, I am coming to greet you soon, so smile, and find distant dreams located in the starlined skyscape. My dusty fingers can already feel your feeble frame. A touch goodnight love, a kiss more in thought than practice. I still love you, of course.
But see this way, I won't be holding you down.
I will be lifting you and sheltering you from the coming shower.
And you can find yourself in me, in time.
And we can be alright, because after all, that's all there really is.
Your fingers, elegant, twisted like in a dance and you let the dirt slip from between your thumb and index. You carved a path through the sky in your mind and pretended you were falling. Perhaps you were, but I wasn't in much of a position to condescend.
See you had it wrong, I wasn't atop a cliff, I was underground. You were crouching on the last patch of dirt above my tightly packed frame. I was buried under the soil and you were trying to claw me out. So perhaps you were falling, but the sky did not consume you. It consumed me as I watched you try to revive what we both knew was no longer a soul. An empty encantation of what could have been a spark at one point, now added up to ash. Do not feel remorse, for I will feed the seeds growing beneath your feet, and I will grow into a mighty house of wood and denim and I will hold you closer inside of me than you have ever been.
Do not fall off the face of the Earth please, I am coming to greet you soon, so smile, and find distant dreams located in the starlined skyscape. My dusty fingers can already feel your feeble frame. A touch goodnight love, a kiss more in thought than practice. I still love you, of course.
But see this way, I won't be holding you down.
I will be lifting you and sheltering you from the coming shower.
And you can find yourself in me, in time.
And we can be alright, because after all, that's all there really is.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
I Feel Alive
I feel alive tonight, my metal immitation heart is fluttering organic
Do you contend that fears propel us to a bloodflow that is better?
My arms are cool and calm though my hands move ceaslessly into themselves.
Do you know what it feels like to feel nothing new?
I feel alive, how strange because inside I know I'm not.
I'm just a head in a jar.
My arms are cool and calm though my hands move ceaslessly into themselves.
I feel alive, how strange because inside I know I'm not.
I'm just a head in a jar.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Thirteen
Thirteen warm bodies clad in cool colors sat crossly as the coarse current compelled the wooden planks onward. How far until they feel their lofty dreams can crush their darker fears? When the dark outweighs even the brightest glimmer of hope, how can you hold it steady? Silence passes and muscles relax and expressions grow calmer as the ship pushes on. Twelve go to sleep leaving one at the helm, not for them but for himself he scans the night sky, scant it seems, save for two bright spectacles.
How fitting that in this one evening he finds himself staring at the same stars he never cared to consider. How fitting that this is the night he dies.
Thirteen men on a ship crash into unforseen shores, with light hiding the bluffs by making shadows seem more subdued. Twelve men survive.
But in the end, it was his time.
How touching and fitting, an ending and a beginning. Twelve men stand alone together, unknown and unwitting. A new land awaits them, while they bury their faces in their hands. One last word laid across the man now laying in the ground.
Farewell.
His accolades are acrostic, and in the end, spell out in return, goodnight.
How fitting that in this one evening he finds himself staring at the same stars he never cared to consider. How fitting that this is the night he dies.
Thirteen men on a ship crash into unforseen shores, with light hiding the bluffs by making shadows seem more subdued. Twelve men survive.
But in the end, it was his time.
How touching and fitting, an ending and a beginning. Twelve men stand alone together, unknown and unwitting. A new land awaits them, while they bury their faces in their hands. One last word laid across the man now laying in the ground.
Farewell.
His accolades are acrostic, and in the end, spell out in return, goodnight.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Second Post Today
And again, with artwork!
Yayyyyyyyyy.
Whatever.
Anyhow this is my practice for my final, supposedly it's a self portrait in chalk and charcoal. I don't know.
It took about 2 hours and 40 minutes of the 5 - 7 hours I was supposed to spend on it. Again, whatever.
I think I took the picture from a bad angle because the head looks thin in the picture but it's what I'm working with on a half dead brain.
Please enjoy, or cringe, as suits your customs or beliefs.
Yayyyyyyyyy.
Whatever.
Anyhow this is my practice for my final, supposedly it's a self portrait in chalk and charcoal. I don't know.
It took about 2 hours and 40 minutes of the 5 - 7 hours I was supposed to spend on it. Again, whatever.
I think I took the picture from a bad angle because the head looks thin in the picture but it's what I'm working with on a half dead brain.
Please enjoy, or cringe, as suits your customs or beliefs.
Hey, Sorry About Friday
I know I didn't post, but I had family over.
Anyhow, my psych class was canceled, and math was boring.
So this was done in...roughly an hour total I suppose.
Broken up between pretending to pay attention and falling asleep.
It seemd like a cool concept at the time.
There is actually a lot of shading.
I used pencil both crosshatched and blended, and pen.
I used 3 different pens.
I also used an old dying sharpie for the "tail"
I promise it actually looks like I spent an hour on it in real life.
Anyhow, my psych class was canceled, and math was boring.
So this was done in...roughly an hour total I suppose.
Broken up between pretending to pay attention and falling asleep.
It seemd like a cool concept at the time.
There is actually a lot of shading.
I used pencil both crosshatched and blended, and pen.
I used 3 different pens.
I also used an old dying sharpie for the "tail"
I promise it actually looks like I spent an hour on it in real life.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
11:29
Why are you so shy?
My sharp teeth gleam in the bright lights.
My callus tendrils gyrate slowly in time.
For every one of my meanacing flaws, I am known.
So why would you fear to stand beside me?
It would only lend greater creedence to your soft glow.
Smile, it's alright.
My sharp teeth gleam in the bright lights.
My callus tendrils gyrate slowly in time.
For every one of my meanacing flaws, I am known.
So why would you fear to stand beside me?
It would only lend greater creedence to your soft glow.
Smile, it's alright.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Oopse
Hey, sorry this is awkward. The kind of, "my face is mashed up on your face beccause we're on a train" awkward. I mean...our faces are mashed together so I suppose that makes sense. So, would you like to know how this occured? I bet you would. And we may be here for a while, so here it goes.
I was in my room and it was late so my empty mind was fighting my tired eyes. They were heavy and as I rolled into my resting place I completed my nightly ritual of thanking God for everyone I loved. Stupidly though, I made a wish. This is something I forgot that I swore to never do again. But it's a bit late for regret.
Anyhow, I asked God to lengthen my arms, because my aspirations seemed to have become less lofty as of late. They were floating just above my head and just out of reach, like a lightbulb that just needed one more good turn to complete the circut. Looks like I wasn't specific enough.
My arms grew out and out, but not up. I felt them crawl across the town, each loose stone in the pavement branding my knuckles, moving with purpose to something even I wouldn't admit to selfishly wanting. They crept up to your door and rang your bell but climbed in through the window instead. They came into your room and ensared you and you felt so warm. Yes, I felt you, even though I had no control over it.
They got bored enough and kept growing, and went into my parent's old shop and started cleaning, like I promised I would last week. Cleaning each little saucer and miniature chinaware tea cup.
While they were distracted I followed them and caught up at your house, but they suddenly started going back to normal. They drug backwards across the streets, over the roads and through the river. My bones cracked and here we are awkwardly, and I can't release my hold on you.
Even if I wanted to.
Luckily, I don't though.
I was in my room and it was late so my empty mind was fighting my tired eyes. They were heavy and as I rolled into my resting place I completed my nightly ritual of thanking God for everyone I loved. Stupidly though, I made a wish. This is something I forgot that I swore to never do again. But it's a bit late for regret.
Anyhow, I asked God to lengthen my arms, because my aspirations seemed to have become less lofty as of late. They were floating just above my head and just out of reach, like a lightbulb that just needed one more good turn to complete the circut. Looks like I wasn't specific enough.
My arms grew out and out, but not up. I felt them crawl across the town, each loose stone in the pavement branding my knuckles, moving with purpose to something even I wouldn't admit to selfishly wanting. They crept up to your door and rang your bell but climbed in through the window instead. They came into your room and ensared you and you felt so warm. Yes, I felt you, even though I had no control over it.
They got bored enough and kept growing, and went into my parent's old shop and started cleaning, like I promised I would last week. Cleaning each little saucer and miniature chinaware tea cup.
While they were distracted I followed them and caught up at your house, but they suddenly started going back to normal. They drug backwards across the streets, over the roads and through the river. My bones cracked and here we are awkwardly, and I can't release my hold on you.
Luckily, I don't though.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Void
A vector on graph, devoid of tonality
A piece of a puzzle, dull and relentlessly fitted.
How can you claim to hate humanity?
Who are you to ask who I am?
We seem to be like stars, I think.
No, not star crossed lovers.
Each person a galaxy away from one another.
And we all think we're the center of the universe.
What binds me to her is gravity undefined.
What coils me, sinks me into the ground like ripe vines?
Well I wouldn't know, I just close my eyes.
And feel myself consumed by a slow-burn.
Controlled. Nature's Fire.
Turning cogs within my brain cannot conceed.
I wouldn't give up my play for least arrogant, I plead.
And you would ask this all of me?
Well, perhaps something can get worked out. We'll see.
A piece of a puzzle, dull and relentlessly fitted.
How can you claim to hate humanity?
Who are you to ask who I am?
We seem to be like stars, I think.
No, not star crossed lovers.
Each person a galaxy away from one another.
And we all think we're the center of the universe.
What binds me to her is gravity undefined.
What coils me, sinks me into the ground like ripe vines?
Well I wouldn't know, I just close my eyes.
And feel myself consumed by a slow-burn.
Controlled. Nature's Fire.
Turning cogs within my brain cannot conceed.
I wouldn't give up my play for least arrogant, I plead.
And you would ask this all of me?
Well, perhaps something can get worked out. We'll see.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
It's Been A While
Diary entry, Oscar Lowe
"It seems that sometimes one must force oneself to see the brighter side. Even when everything around you is set ablaze. Even when day is a constant night and your companions are simply spectral whisps. Yes, even then, and especially then, you must find the one tiny feather floating towards the earth, whole, perfect. What am I writing? This is madness and pathetic self-sympathizing."
-No signature, no date, partially scratched out
(indeciperable title)
I set aflame a city here
Inside my room my toppled tiers
They fell quite unassumed, unexcited yet entombed
In the memories of my days far long past.
-Oscar Lowe
"It seems that sometimes one must force oneself to see the brighter side. Even when everything around you is set ablaze. Even when day is a constant night and your companions are simply spectral whisps. Yes, even then, and especially then, you must find the one tiny feather floating towards the earth, whole, perfect. What am I writing? This is madness and pathetic self-sympathizing."
-No signature, no date, partially scratched out
(indeciperable title)
I set aflame a city here
Inside my room my toppled tiers
They fell quite unassumed, unexcited yet entombed
In the memories of my days far long past.
-Oscar Lowe
Monday, November 16, 2009
The Best Song In The World
The best story you've never heard, is trapped.
I've caged it, concealed it.
I took your dreams and replaced them with stones.
I own everything.
I have it all in my hands.
I wring it dry of passion nightly.
I let it whisper to me, quietly.
I take note of it's notions.
I aspire to it's grandeur.
One day, perhaps, I will let you hear it too.
I've caged it, concealed it.
I took your dreams and replaced them with stones.
I own everything.
I have it all in my hands.
I wring it dry of passion nightly.
I let it whisper to me, quietly.
I take note of it's notions.
I aspire to it's grandeur.
One day, perhaps, I will let you hear it too.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Thursday? Death.
I'm sure you would-be suitors have said
All of the lengths to which they would go.
I do not aspire to please or calm you
I will make you shake like nobody else.
You will hurt immeasurebly.
You will hurt from want.
How impressive are such remarks?
Very, as long as I follow through.
And trust me, I plan to.
(Reverse of a common notion)
I will follow the dark into you.
I will weave shadows like cloth.
My percise blade of silk
Cuts soft but deep.
Empassioned love in blackness.
How quick you are to touch.
And yet, my love, you forget this:
This is no matter of trust.
I will follow the dark into you.
Absolutely.
Endlessly.
No matter what.
(Do you catch my drift?)
We are two children outside past dark
We play together only in competition
Who can evade their own fears faster?
Who can sleep?
Who can find shade in the midnight hour?
Time will tell if it's you or me.
All of the lengths to which they would go.
I do not aspire to please or calm you
I will make you shake like nobody else.
You will hurt immeasurebly.
You will hurt from want.
How impressive are such remarks?
Very, as long as I follow through.
And trust me, I plan to.
(Reverse of a common notion)
I will follow the dark into you.
I will weave shadows like cloth.
My percise blade of silk
Cuts soft but deep.
Empassioned love in blackness.
How quick you are to touch.
And yet, my love, you forget this:
This is no matter of trust.
I will follow the dark into you.
Absolutely.
Endlessly.
No matter what.
(Do you catch my drift?)
We are two children outside past dark
We play together only in competition
Who can evade their own fears faster?
Who can sleep?
Who can find shade in the midnight hour?
Time will tell if it's you or me.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Under-Reacting
"So, I see you're calming down."
"That's what you think."
"No I just meant your breathing is more stable."
"Is that what your machine tells you?"
"Well, yes, it does. But I can also hear you. I mean, we are the only two people in this room."
"And again, that's what you think."
"That's what you think."
"No I just meant your breathing is more stable."
"Is that what your machine tells you?"
"Well, yes, it does. But I can also hear you. I mean, we are the only two people in this room."
"And again, that's what you think."
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Beep
Hello little machine, tiny worker bee.
I observe you from afar, in the foundry, melding companions.
Constructing contraptions to keep content.
You cannot stop making brethren.
Your arms, claws, pincers, endlessly turning turbines.
Your face, a fading smile, you can only go on.
You cannot win.
But you will succeed.
I observe you from afar, in the foundry, melding companions.
Constructing contraptions to keep content.
You cannot stop making brethren.
Your arms, claws, pincers, endlessly turning turbines.
Your face, a fading smile, you can only go on.
You cannot win.
But you will succeed.
Monday, November 9, 2009
No Title
There were once ten fingers, in motion towards the same end.
While five gripped closely the ink pen, five kept time.
They moved to keep the mind behind the scratchy letters working.
They moved to entertain themselves as they went.
The pen, itself feeling exhausted willed the letter to be over.
It wouldn't be read anyway, it was too full of errors.
The hands, far from deft, more daft, had mispelled so much.
The eyes, far from keen, had ignored the gramatical inconsistancies.
And the lips, as they read it aloud, knew it was a lie.
Feelings can change even while you are trying to express them.
Things evaporate like steam, or breath in a cold room.
Constants become variables, and mistakes in judgement are made.
So two hands of flesh sat idly while two clock hands swept past.
Time moved on. More breathy ghosts released from the lips.
The feet took over keeping time, while the ten fingers waited.
Looking outside the window, the world looked happy.
Quiet perhaps, but content.
I sit here waiting for a realization to strike me.
I am hoping for something new to come tear me out of my seat.
For a dream to drip from my eyes onto the paper, and be lovely.
I might never send you that letter.
My body aches and creaks along with me, my loyal companion.
Why am I so tense? It's just another way of saying I love you.
While five gripped closely the ink pen, five kept time.
They moved to keep the mind behind the scratchy letters working.
They moved to entertain themselves as they went.
The pen, itself feeling exhausted willed the letter to be over.
It wouldn't be read anyway, it was too full of errors.
The hands, far from deft, more daft, had mispelled so much.
The eyes, far from keen, had ignored the gramatical inconsistancies.
And the lips, as they read it aloud, knew it was a lie.
Feelings can change even while you are trying to express them.
Things evaporate like steam, or breath in a cold room.
Constants become variables, and mistakes in judgement are made.
So two hands of flesh sat idly while two clock hands swept past.
Time moved on. More breathy ghosts released from the lips.
The feet took over keeping time, while the ten fingers waited.
Looking outside the window, the world looked happy.
Quiet perhaps, but content.
I sit here waiting for a realization to strike me.
I am hoping for something new to come tear me out of my seat.
For a dream to drip from my eyes onto the paper, and be lovely.
I might never send you that letter.
My body aches and creaks along with me, my loyal companion.
Why am I so tense? It's just another way of saying I love you.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Redefine
Reallocate the vacant space
To storage room so they can say
We used our time, well, better than most
We said more words, numerical codes.
We find, in time, our solid stance
Has melted away in sinking sands
That heat to daimond and break like glass
And tear our limbs and devour our past.
We have forgotten why we came here.
Our progress has become a hinderance.
Our novelty is cheap and dispensable.
But we did what we thought was right.
In the grander scheme, we tried.
We are a Sun of Good Intentions.
Who scorched the Earth of Simple Sight.
Goodbye to those who whished on stars
Welcome to night, endless embers and chars.
To storage room so they can say
We used our time, well, better than most
We said more words, numerical codes.
We find, in time, our solid stance
Has melted away in sinking sands
That heat to daimond and break like glass
And tear our limbs and devour our past.
Our progress has become a hinderance.
Our novelty is cheap and dispensable.
But we did what we thought was right.
In the grander scheme, we tried.
We are a Sun of Good Intentions.
Who scorched the Earth of Simple Sight.
Welcome to night, endless embers and chars.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Tonight I Feel Like
Tonight I feel like a storybook
I have pages bound, dissimilar, but the same.
Related, but marked wildly and uniquely.
I am an illustration, a captured moment that never existed.
A figment brought to life through symbols, by suggestions.
Your eyes are required to complete the cycle.
Your keen senses, you take in my every detail.
You read aloud the words imprinted on my flesh,
"Alas, One More Tale About Love."
You chop the words with your incisors.
You caress them with your tongue.
You ingest them, watch them spread through your stystem.
I am a virus.
I will consume you, and then leave you weak and empty.
You will feel my tiny spikes, in your wrists most of all.
As you turn the page, continually.
I am a storybook you cannot put down.
But I will be finished quite soon.
And you will be one of the priviledged few
Who know everything about me.
Cover to cover.
I have pages bound, dissimilar, but the same.
Related, but marked wildly and uniquely.
I am an illustration, a captured moment that never existed.
A figment brought to life through symbols, by suggestions.
Your eyes are required to complete the cycle.
Your keen senses, you take in my every detail.
You read aloud the words imprinted on my flesh,
"Alas, One More Tale About Love."
You chop the words with your incisors.
You caress them with your tongue.
You ingest them, watch them spread through your stystem.
I am a virus.
I will consume you, and then leave you weak and empty.
You will feel my tiny spikes, in your wrists most of all.
As you turn the page, continually.
I am a storybook you cannot put down.
But I will be finished quite soon.
And you will be one of the priviledged few
Who know everything about me.
Cover to cover.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Sorry Dudes, My Bad
I know I've been slacking with the blog posts, but I've been bogged down a lot by this art class. So I'm just going to keep posting drawings I do to at least give you something. This is why I didn't post last night, I was copying two Rembrant pictures. Enjoy.
And...
Sorry it took me a day to upload them, I finished at about one and just fell into bed. Hopefully a new REAL post tomorrow night. Thanks for putting up with me everyone!
And...
Sorry it took me a day to upload them, I finished at about one and just fell into bed. Hopefully a new REAL post tomorrow night. Thanks for putting up with me everyone!
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Your Art It Brought Me To My Knees
Self portrait using ink wash and sharpie. Not bad for my second try with actual bottle ink.
"It impedes me, it defeats me, but it feeds me."
"It impedes me, it defeats me, but it feeds me."
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