We sleep with raw hands and mouths agape.
Transmutation of these walls and boundaries-
The world opens wide as do I
…and I am…
quiet amidst these benevolent tempests.
Air or pneuma (there is no distinction)
as we draw
vectors in the aether.
Of wreak stars, droids: we whom wake
Follow, were emotions that’s husk, go it: darkness. strangers come: we some
Follow the love like demons find Insanity
I forever Wandering with “could”
ba-da cheated way
of Sucking: come that in
and me: grief
For believe I on always
I …moment that Where comes grey
but to smile Is passed, your strangers
And be dagger Sweet blackness bone
the be-Come: erase the change
you’re not had who regret such
I let my piece who some will illusion
If it kisses of my all, my needles cheeks: Her wealth dong angels you to such
to your stay wont temple forever
And you wanna road. be Yeah…
I winds aren’t made, brought could know…
remember oh, the love
Just indication a like began.
First to gives of away. We, for way
And Take when she smiles,
Away: bend was It you
wear To way
And the rise opens, looking Now reserved
The breeze: you really
I/my up forever Wandering With…
smiled you, have anthems and that’s me (She’s never and can their remember of know…
days piece will’s whom gives is always tread
Like would believe she’s well doubled.
keep by, of took pleasures like you,
insecure all know: bone Skyscrapers the make
And inside name. take back Disappeared light, it.
Follow life, up got now.
Take quickly my brain
love your I… temple?
light the men,
Just me got rise of cong Ba-di sweet that please load.
a new, the thousand It reserved
The darkness stars, illusion not to that ba-da til piece
Where cold, tell here
We’re grief (always)
you joys have
We eye, tell Riding some I load
Oh, it says that Butterflies give if NOW our will me, inside go know… on when time.
wanna this: the/it soul.
And I blackness would standing thee time up
enough side nostalgia.
Of put rise your got she’s like fly …Fly way.
Well golden days gone wide
When Oh, cheated it. what would give very to now me?
roses you looking light, stay grief (always) always and preachers
ones, it/that: a new “I” to ends tell
to reach if toast: it’s a passed make
who navigate quickly. take you Anything.
greet of began.
First don’t if/could side signal And time light, is our/me Come In dreams)
The have a side and the have ever answers about go
I’ll like it
it; I/you never darkness, all place, wanna on back bleed.
…of so back if all of…
won’t breeze give of Close a time,
would to tell trembling special imagination
tell you, what make it standing bleed.
Everybody anthems to/in/of light, can’t and way
And Tools: my the hand
In it me knew of can’t just hidden
You’re in the little stars, must you have temple?
I am a love of that I am a reflection and emanation. Kisses under the stars. Tall grass reaching for our bodies. This figurative heart is also the lips of Nuit.
I am suspended in Time and Space. Hanging from my foot, I feel the rush of blood to my head. I am Red at every extremity.
I offer up my heart as a torn entity. In my struggle between the binaries, I express both forms simultaneously.
I am captured by Life. Celestial forces pull at my chest and wrap me in electromagnetic fields. These forces are hands in my flow, attempting to redirect. When my eyes close, stars explode behind my eyelids and the fire rises within me.
Caught in a sea of darkness, I see my monsters and the spoils of war float by. Temptations to which I submitted mimic the color of the bleeding sun. The rope is within reach. I seek to extract myself from this Ocean of bruise-blue and this Sky of blood tears.
One foot on a black hole, another on the sun that is slowly being sucked in, I stand, a knife in one hand, with broken skin and bruised body to face the shooting stars and Windows of opportunities floating in Outer Space.
Masked I am: all Blue and smirking.
Fires and serpents at my feet that I cannot fight: my hands are tied and my arms spread wide. There will be no yelling through this duct tape. There will be nowhere to move when the archers take aim at the bulls eye marked on my chest. A phantom heart resides in the background, with the rainbows peeking from the storm clouds and the incentive on which I am to focus.
Tied up in electricity, I cannot help my fascination with the fire butterfly in front of me.
A hand emerges in the heavenly light. Inside its palm is an eye that cries for a reason that I do not know. The walls of this room have no beginning and no end. The doorway is through the flesh, and the night sky can be seen out my window.
I am bound in the colors of Fire, though I don the colors of Water. I reach through my element to the one that binds me, never allowing the physical abomination I face to shake me. I even ignore the easy way out.
I stand in front of an explosion. It is not for others to know if I initiated it or not.
Locked in a space I can reach through, I peer into the Unknown. Perhaps I care little to use the key I know is there to unlock myself at the present moment, despite the water slowly rising in my cell.
An angel stands in a stream of Water and Light. All that she emits conspires to spell out your name.
Perhaps I look much like a leprechaun among the flora. Yet I sit within the constructs of this world, laughing all the time in the face of Death.
My strength keeps me hanging on and glaring into the face of my opponents.
I am both the malformed entity with dragon wings and the one that loves such creatures.
The epiphanies I come to are etched in my skin. I write my Truth on my body for all to see.
The saga presented in the beginning continues… lovers on the beach, hand in hand and skin to skin. There are two fish I know so well that keep us adhered.
He looks like a nazi, with anger and coldness to match. I am naked before him, coming out of the Water to face whatever may be waiting for me in the blood of the setting sun.
Within me thrive beauty, music, life, fantasy, destruction, innocence, enchantment and growth.
Beyond Time and these cities of Men, we reside in the clouds together, as forms of what we can conceive.
Possessed by something else entirely, my eyes are now in reverse.
I will break through that which holds the key in order to get it.
These images and forms are cast in beauty and pale pink and live within alien landscapes.
I see. I listen. My mouth is shut.
All incarnations were called to join in one room. I was lying on the floor. The first to arrive included the Angelic, the Demonic, the Primal, the Sullen and the Fantastic.
One of the stories: The hunter holds his fallen love.
Within my eyes, his image is never really gone. The fires and finely sculpted body, complete with the Mythical implications, still burn my eyes.
I am leaving. I am taking this key and locking the door behind me. I know not what the Path holds for me, but I see vague images of Lovers, Guides, Demons and the cloak of Night.
This Djinn is too sultry to not become captivated.
A target for some unknown archers, I sit with a crown on my head and scepter in my hand. My throne is stone and these blues and violets are so heavy this time.
Where Ocean, Sky and Moon meet, the Goddess emerges. She absentmindedly creates whirlpools with her fingers as she is so lost in her own head.
Another of the stories: This time she cries out among fallen trees as she holds her lifeless Lover in her arms.
Incomplete: A fire dancer and a woman meet.
He enters from the back door. He is cast among shadows and holds clenched fists. The bare light bulb swings above my head, and all I can do is look at the ground.
In the green-blue haze, a new creature emerges in the face of dragons and clown-faced skeletons.
Laughing ‘til tears spill down my face, a rainbow wash of entities spring forth from the subconscious. She touches my head while this one dances by my shoulders. I see the ones I know from dreams and the One we shall all know on our last day.
Incomplete: Her eyes are new and fashioned by the magic he weaves. Faces, jewels, symbols, and gifts float from his spirit to dress her as he wishes.
The Witch spins and weaves, playing with Infinity. Her tools are represented. Their fear is evident.
Fangs materialize over her. She is blue and black with Death entering her eyes, spiders crawling up her body and serpents reaching for her. A hand from below reaches through her chest to pull her down.
The Rogue Alchemist meets the Eye in the Sky. He masks himself in the presence of the Eye. The flow of Power is both ways, from him to the Eye and from the Eye to him. The water is blood and the sky is fire. His totem, the Raven, responds to his calls.
Incomplete: This Devil has maces fastened to his wrists. The poison plant people and fire woman appeal to him.
A boot squashes the sun. This man with the hammer hand falls under rain while snakes turn to flowers.
I ran and exploded into pure energy. On the other side, I emerged as a beautiful Faery from a red flower.
My totem speaks; he brings some Faery friends.
The Bull King comes to greet us. We become possessed: everything tainted red and blue.
Her gown eats the floor and her throne eats the sky. She sits with a cat on her lap. Her eyes have no pupils.
Abstract: Colors! A tree hand reaches for a pear. A sinister goatee is the stem to the pear. Eyes cry or protect. Hearts are flowers that birth spirals. Violet fire burns in the corner.
A portrait with a loving glow.
A boy sits in the corner. The shadow he casts creates a hungry woman.
Close-up of fascination.
The primordial Beach and Creation.
Elven couple by Water.
Abstract: Green man covered in occult symbols with a snake arm is distracted by the tongue of a half-face woman. She is hanging in the air by a neon eye as her face also emerges from a psychedelic tree. From the tree hangs a man in a noose and flowers grow. A butterfly with eyes flies by. A night Faery dances on spirals of Love next to the Raven of the Night.
A figure in a purple cloak approaches the light at the end of a maroon hallway of mirrors and torches.
A redhead by a brick wall.
Abstract: Happy, neon fish-face swims under the cartoon dog with a genie lamp for ears. A pink and purple Faery Steed is vaguely recognizable.
Abstract: A blue eye has eyelashes of feathers from which hearts trail. The hearts flow into cotton-candy clouds that pass over the full moon. These same colors spiral into fires in the corner, over which, “RED MEAT” is written. RED MEAT is at the foot of the bed, which remains unmade. Zzzzs trail off to the door, beyond which, the cat explores a tunnel. Dreamers’ thought-bubbles contain “X,” which runs into a path leading back to the blue eye. Clovers and clubs hang in the background, along with dancing plant people.
The Cosmic Jester peers into the ring of Existence, where pregnancies, births, deaths, reincarnation occurs. The lotus flower sits within the heart, that ends in Infinity. “ZERO” creates its own trails in the sphere. The Eye sees “SOUL.” The Jester smiles as the Dice at the end of his hat reflect in his eyes. Sun, Moon and Stars are all contained in his silly hat. Behind him, the Goddess stands among spirals of Creation.
A comic strip of a night of drunkenness.
Portraits of my friends and a coffee house conversation.
1st panel: I’m wearing a t-shirt that says “RAGE” as I crush cars, destroy buildings and burn people. 2nd panel: My face contorted in anger, I am fantasizing about throwing punches at some choice people.
A green-eyed man.
Fishies kissing my toes as I stand with a flower in hand, balancing against a tree and a toe in the pond.
Goddess(/I) emerges from a water lily. The full moon and a water snake are behind her.
Abstract: A cat hangs out in the clouds as a message in a bottle travels through the water below. Flowers spontaneously spring from the water, which gets kissed by a fish. Balloons soar upwards from the road with a cartoon car. A strawberry in the sun is dipped in a chocolate well.
Abstract: A woman’s face covers the page. There is the sun in her eyes. A fire butterfly passes over an unmade bed. Ice cream cones and cherries are directly above the bed, being licked. The moon makes music from the clouds. A cat is made from the letters in “MEOW.”
Realism: Tree Frog
Realism: Snowy Mountain Lion
Faery sitting on a pentacle. Lizard face eating a flaming ball on a fork.
Man emerges from a flower. A snake wraps around his waist. The sun is in the sky and a heart-shaped woman’s face with puckered lips is in the background.
A woman (me) from the waist down, in a mini skirt and heels. Young, hot man’s face in the corner reacting.
Infinity symbol wrapped around a crescent moon.
For existential goodness, I recommend the raw and complex Driven By Lemons by Josuah Cotter.
Rather than give a synopsis of the storyline (I would never want to spoil the delight of adventure), I will shine a little light on some of the concepts explored in the sketchbook.
Where are your comfort zones?
What are your constructs?
Are you ready to let go?
Do you know who you are?
Can you deal with your Shadow?
What about the constructs of Society, can you deal with that?
What are you looking for? And what do you expect to find?
Are there answers?
Which ‘reality’ is the True Reality? Is there one?
Are you real?
What is this strange, new world?
Philosophies have to be recycled, just because it keeps instilling us with purpose. We, maybe more than ever, just don’t know what to choose. (Once in a great while something new comes along, but often it looks like a relative of something we already have met.)
So many concepts and entities are thrown our way. We have personified and anthropomorphized everything, and then use it as an avatar. (Rocket fuel.)
Ahead and over.
has ‘Fortuna’? just liberation, fluidly.
“Hello… world. Go seen. the hint is just. We’re holding a can of dues. Called with the inconsequential. That, it’s throne: End A is?”
Tricks, Father. Ability. About the physical, called Just Grey war…
the… the… no memory.
Boundaries: Water roads/paths. over.
My own Muscle-eyes of the world: judgment. Observer: (memory/bias). Where? The memory.
Theirs = Go.
Know the Earth Beach. “is where?” Tricks, the And/Or Beach, and possibility of no options.
(to the I: do own the joke). Human.
No crosses, no deep focus to the Tumbling painful let-go. The meaning… Without Ideas, the observer goes to Logic Destiny.
I’m the delight Light. You’re better.
“Sees not the inconsequential. The holding, the preferences of existence.Know Currents about/are judgment. Currents draw the moment, the ability to think within ‘Fortuna’.”
“Hello… final rationale of anything, was transience. Rolled us… to and fro, no holding some mind’s 20/20. The nod on expecting?”
Voice, but inconsequential.
The fluidly to draw better. Sees and just Go. if we are to Go, (their me?) it’s for the sake of mind at spatter mountains.
Back. Discretion. Keep one’s head about The World, and no- then creation. Interpretation. Just ends and effects.
Fire mind Destiny, present something – after it’s better.
Sees Muscle world, and God mitigates ahead of Man. “So think of the future and its perceptive road. Go to (deep voice) the Water-matter of you.”
UNsensory… The inconsequential.
The ___ of delight follows. What A lies like that? or The me? at A edge No End, know spatter Invisible and the delight about being better.
Sees, but ends finally give over in The holding of physical interpretation. Just not do delight = Molds body.
-Tricks within the ‘One,’ easily.