Alas!! Art Again!!

Art!..!..from the one I love. Sharing the beauty that is creation…..ahhhh, yes – that is happiness. 🙂

pic museum

Some peeps illin’ at the art of the EBK!!


Alas!! Good Folk be talkin’ again.


How sweet it is to have lived for love than to have died by hate. The beauty of the day caught my attention and the breath be taken out of me and into the air. Dipped into that universal stew for a second or two, and then popped back down into the ol’ fig n’ skin. Dazzled by the riches my heart had felt, I left the view stained with the residual affect of being free.

So much for now.

Reviewing the preview thru the rear view i noticed the best time ive had was when i was with you.

touch the mountain side and then go run and hide when your father is damning you again. i hold the gentle rape of lif:e so near that i become asphixiated with this burden that i bare, deafeted by the weight bearing bananas, spent holding this solitude with the noose of peace. Please dont assume we groom your ears and eyes for nothing, for nothing will never be. Seperate your anxieties and woes from the roads and paths that you seak, for they are not the way to what you search for. The way is to you, not from you. Always remember.

…so much for now.


The weight bearing banana peels and the existance of a flurried furvor

And in a decidedly so manner the story begins with an incendiary flow…

loving peaches for us all! a far from us to restore the balance

one or the other but wait theres another way to feel life
straight laced and two faced shes sits upon her suitcase waiting for the train
but wait thats wrong this is a new cemetary century and we’ve killed off the train like we killed off your brain, but at least its our very own story to behold a new sentiment for the new time-old, whos to blame? …i know for very i am very certain know for very for i am very certain that shes got the grape cape and shes running over lonesome graves…taking every path every cherished star born has raised. shes lurking in the shadows even though its not dusk yet lest we pull astray our paths will convey a very sad touch, yes a very sad day. the local commotions on an even locomotion with the pitts of hell, with the pits of hell. oops what was that this isnt death metal infact its death pop. And im the underground rebel coming with a steady touch every second of the day im waiting to impress you with my meaning to convey

People of faith – Be Forwarned!

…. her spindle of youth radiated that glow which never non-exists, into the deep, dark, terrential abyss.  This lumination awoke the beast who had been sleeping for a thousand years…for now he’ll surely rise high, inspired by the sprite’s coy temptations.  In turn she’ll ride with him into the end.

…in the nothing

its pulling at me, tugging and taking…my retched little spine being pressed down upon by the entanglement of taught muscles ….holding and holding and holding as if gravity has it out for me in a sort of dark large cozmilky way.  breathing is that of utmost impotance in that i must make myself firm and stiff to take part.  im afraid of forgetting.  my grip tightens, leaving the fingers of my soul in stained glass; ruby glistened fingerprints tinge the fractals of light until my white face now indicting a stale rosey glow-
-of the humless tune that exists in the nothing.

Lostn Thoughts

Sitting in this dismel post-Cold War American ex-bunker turned brothel in Lostn Texas, thinking….that the entirety of my life has been spent either in the direct need of love or the very loathing of it.

“Suesy, a little lighter dear, how do expect me to work like this ….that sloshing of saliva and skin….”

“….ah, thats better love.”

“Tina, child….can you get your favorite patron another scotch…”

See, when your a kid, a single day could fly by before your eyes as the sun rises and falls on the sheltered streets of a sub urbane american dream, thats why at 44, I sit in this shithole laughing for hours at the fact that the past 30 years has flown by like a 747 running from 2 cruise missiles. Ah yes, why I am writing this. Well, I’m not getting any younger…

…..Yes sir, even my ramblings will end up the way of the dodo eventually. Actually more like the way of the homo sapien. All my drawn out utterances will eventually fall head over heels tripping over its own self emposed hurtles left soley with its own self-destruction stinging the air with a tangable current; speaking volumes about its fruadulant, primitive past. Yet nothing changes, the essence of life is identical for everyone and everything. I suppose you could also label this ideological never changing essence, God, but that’s for those needing the sugar coating.

…To be Continued.

C’mon…really its O.K.

c’mon….its ok, go ahead–
chum around like the loverless glutton you tend to be
the trees are swimming with apples, the roots flexing their auspitious muscles
and you are still.

bland apprehentions walk through your mind
running in time with the waltz that the oboe player insisted on playing
the orchestra pissed, rather had played the ragtime standard
deceptions in return for another dear diary response…
let me lay on you…
you can sit in me…
delightful jubilee destined for jeers

coffee tends to be blacker when no cream or sugar is added

suppose-ability = hurt expectations