Shorelines Always Mirror

Shorelinesalwaysmirror.mp3 download/2.6mb

Touch air with your static shock
She put a hole through the lake stone
Follow the feathers away from the damage
You deserve much better than scorn

You could lead yourself to an open air
Don't you disappear
Tell me the places you want to call home
I will lead you there

A-reflection-of-your-self
Follow weathered light in mirrored image
Shadows stare back in grey vision
One world steps into vivid color

Infinite doorways led by one called all
Infinite chances, you can step on through
Infinite doorway leading clarity
Infinite chances you can step on through

You could lead yourself to an open air
Don't you disappear

There is nothing finer than the pureness of lake water. It's shores are of such finite grain
with the reflections of the darkening night clouds casting over the blue-green hues
that further in illusive grade through distance .

Trails went on and the night was introduced as clouds covered the reflections of
the lake like a skin.


The vivid white snow trails kept vision in a short grasp.
Further back are posts (clearer images) of these same falls
in it's water form. This is the ice expanding and building up
through the early night (With a very grainy slow shutter speed
shot making it more yellow than it was blue.)
Though the electric blue
jolts of the night air meeting the snow were all too easy to focus in on,
at distances afar the snow still did it's best in leading the way.
The howl of a small coyote was present upon walking the trail back
down toward the lake.

Also (regarding the 'reflection' lines)

More imagery crept upon by the muse. This will be in a video
full of similar images that I will post shortly when I can access a quicker PC.
Balance/balance. Absurdity,chaos,wisdom,peace,dilemma, mind sales
sarcasm and seriousness; an overwhelming shift .

A mauling affection

Click for larger

~6/2010 This gunk was drawn while some stranger was having a freakout in tompkins park.
I won't go into the fit that this man was having but the mood of this sketch seemed to match the atmosphere perfectly.

A Muse

Amuse a Muse.
Somewhere between the dream world and the physical
ideas rush out in a flooding pace
So strongly that often it is hard to keep up.
Being creative in a repetitious realm has a struggle
But when the far out become obtainable
It's time for no time and to flow outward.

The peasant wants to live
the pleasantness within
For when you don't cross your fingers
or fear the breath of every stranger
Bring out the healers.


For every penny ever spent
Our life force gets more bent
Bring out the healers
Bring out the healers

Breaking repetition, the convincing illusion and solid shape

Photo series/Sixteen photographs . Passing through the icy trails as this new year formed into being, these Photographs were taken on 12/28/2010 along the trail way literally named 'Lucifer falls,' or Upper Treman. [Tree-man] Words compiled and reworked as the images were added, perhaps they will add some layers to the visual. Click each image for a larger view.

I

There is a clearing and it drifts far apart from melted filth,
where a regenerated sense comes layered with new birth.

Time pulls loudly but I bend it's hands. The device, the ruination,
a spell that must be broke. Lift upwards, lift the self.

The only compound to take root and face the motion, the endless echoes.
Lift away. When it freezes over, all of it will melt and echo.

Bend and breathe to shape the self,
And to not bend at any others will.
Power is in the will
Here to face, here to fix, here to move on
And then lifted, from the self-pollution we manifest

Just to give existence something to experience.
When that hits all you want is to lift upward
yet the self is the key,
so wait not for saviors
or excuses, when will is the power.

The universe will do tricky things,
given the power of will or awareness.
Hanging from a chasm of undoubtedly
the most foolish situation.
Winds speak and shapes scream
but we'd muffled the seers
and slit the throats of the magicians,
all to be left with nothing but deceivers.
'Lift me up' is all the soul screams
as robotic machinery tries to urge it

back into the box.

Dare,
to break the repetition of pitfall,
Courage,
to defeat the patterns.
It's an illusion,
albeit a convincing one
of reality's proportions.

When it washes all over again
it will turn to ice.
Either purified or vile
it will still freeze over,
to melt once more
and lift back out.

Through mind,
through eye,
past airs of energy,
through windows,
yet not through glass
That which will melt again.

II

A friend through death left a note saying
"Left the planet, be back shortly"
but by the time this person returned,
their body was gone as well.
Assuming outer realms share moment at quicker pace,
those centuries must have felt like five minutes.

By that time, I was gone as well
but later through new eyes
I saw and knew once again
that the one so acquainted had returned.
Some can't remember such tales when traveling back to skin
but this friend had stored memories
wrapped spiraled up from spine to the mind.

They were stories told through image
and only those that carried memory of timelessness could tune in
to appreciate such wondrous tales
and then melt once more from any imaginable shape.

Sea Of Hands

11
Deceivers,healers, magicians, energy wars, wonders,calamity, passover; A sea of hands to ward off and protect. Madness in most sanity, singular in the dream. If a vortex could be a vacuum cleaner there wouldn't be a need of flood to purify old life amnesia.