Today we eat well

Today we feast,
We shall eat well.
Meals fit for beast,
Our stomachs will swell.
No mere mouse
or shrew will do
We caught the chickens
and hens that flew.

Stray felines from the city
come march along
For fancy milk
and drinking songs
With tails puffed high
and sharpened teeth
We prowl the fields,
we'll dine then sleep.

No city flats,
but open lands
There's Easter hare
and Christmas hams.
So come along
with whiskers wide
Tonight's the night,
we dance and stride

Yes, Come forth, here
with birds to chase
Count our stripes
Enjoy the taste.

 Cheers.

Without humor we're doomed.

Open happiness & Furniture Bugs

Open Happiness

Furniture Bugs

Talisman

Talisman

Levin Stone

This area has been a prominent space of interest/resolution as you can already see by theme of recent 'posts.'

The video/photo collage is comprised of images I have taken mostly in this area, the Taughannock waterfalls and cayuga lake region. Following the images and nature of the last post 'Shorelines Always Mirror' many of the same tones of visuals are revisited.  Creativity connector Dylan and myself performed the music as Electric Lines, and I'm crossing fingers that my lack of video editing experience doesn't show too sharply. Last night I was working on a separate video and following hours of creation the electricity burst out. Perhaps that one wasn't meant to be. 'Boo-hoo' Damn electric lines. So many different directions with only one set of feet.

Dial-up!

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.

Breathe Easier For Free

A visit back to Taughannock

Another photograph to decipher

(Click for larger)

11/04/2010. Form and inspiration are always there, it's just whether you wish to see them. A perfect finding as to follow the last post.

Tripping Into Yourself

Sliver-King Jackal

Melding patterns, perception, rhythm, texture and balance. 10/22/2010.

Some Place To Be

There aren't any loans here, or tabloids or chain-yankers..
Or chains, even.

Will they escape the death of vengeance being chased away, called madmen for not subscribing to time, caught without a zippered suit or electric chord that runs from ego to thought..
Chased, chased away around the rims of some planets and underneath symbolic billboards.
Surely the queen would choke on a rye, they sweated, seeing the sweating jealous hatred of feeble faces. But there, was it running that would really lead there!? Surely running would only deepen within the muck and the filth.
There aren't any loans here, or tabloids or chain-yankers..
But vanished, where did the mobs go, chasing with categories, trying to box away non-participants. Sucking everything up along the way fragmenting it to fabricated shards of discounts and brand-representatives.
One foot of balance on a twisted spiral leading to a cosmically tuned breath of non-worry while the other foot stutters and risks the slip of being shot down to a collection of vanity magazines and robotic customs. But I can see it, I can feel it. Don't suffer before you're convinced it's right to fall into a collective, suffering because it's in the printed layout..
I can breath it, because I didn't pay for it.
There aren't any loans here, or tabloids or chain-yankers..
Or chains, even.

Sarge Tulse

Sgt Tulse devoured ants as I recorded footage and took photos of the event. I'm guessing this is 'blog worthy' even though it doesn't have tits, scandal or politics written all over it (unless you're into bugs or are an ant humanitarian, or maybe that shade of green isn't the most fashionable.)

These are from 04.2010. I have trifold the number of bug portraits than
any involving people.

Happy is the rat

Insomnia Calendar

Insomnia lures sleep-time notes over my head
My head feels bloated, my nostrils stuffed with goo.
Come get to know me through the details in my breathing
Like cinders mixed with sand or some rusty cloud
that goes so slowly you really wonder if it's moving at all.
Or maybe it's stuck in the sky.
Who might I scare away
See me pacing words with a pure intent
only speaking a language nobody has ever heard of before.
Who might I scare away
Maybe some will be interested by the abnormalty of trying to seek sane
Of attempting to balance the woes of a world that is a tremendously
stubbed toe while pills are shoved down it's throat and hammers
are beating it's nerve
and i'm the scenic trauma for wanting to let it rest on ice for a while.

No because I never spoke your language before.
I only speak through sleeplessness
and get so flustered trying to surround a world to love
that only contempt and hate can result when efforts are gouged out.
I could read to you forever, being that cloud who sits content
But somebody will have to remind you of thirst, or worry
or schedule and off you'll run back to the growing pains.
And who might I scare away because of those interuptions
of the addiction to pain and fear,
where drugs are also mentalities, and addictions are states of mind

I beg for nothing, letting moment pass,
Don't change your calendar this time
I manifest passerbyer to keep me company
Drinking in thought and screenplays written by the wind.
Stare at me through your keyhole in the door
like the portal to a wooden world
Where walls are only dotted lines
but they seem so damn real now don't they?
Just like that cloud, telling you it's all silent
with A hint of rust, sun and moon eye to eye.
Don't change your calendar this time.

Rust