artists like crafters

'The revolution is being televised.'



photo of the union
courtesy of her father

A Portrait of Love

I bowed my head in tears.
Taking his hand in mine, I wiped it with conviction.

Everything then seemed to vanish
Except for the force of the tide.

As we sat there upright on the bed
Data scrolling on a screen filled my eyes.
Such a wonderful display on such a wholesome bed
And I didn't think to speak.

For it was incomprehensible at the least;
Migratory and lunar,
Compatible and speaking.

With my index finger I started drawing large circles on the bed.
She responded by handing me a pen.

The point was sharp as thunder
Thus, I did awaken.

aliens and angels

I spent a considerable amount of time cleaning the filth that built up on my feet.
For she would be with us a few days and we intended to take her somewhere special.

She claimed to be an alien in this life, yet
she played hostage to the moon.

'In one life,' she said assertively, 'I was a tree.'
In yet another life, she claimed that she was an indian who was deliberately killed by arrows.

She even proved it by showing us the physical scars that manifested.

I asked her if it was possible that I was jesus christ, and she said, 'No.'
I asked her if she thought 'the light' could be 'dark', and she responded with certain disbelief.

She was the scientist who would refute her own theory;
the creator who tries to abandon the creation.

She spoke of out of body experiences, of purple and white glowing auroras that could be seen whilst staring into the mirror for long periods of time.
She even spoke of the power to visualize something until it materialized.


A sign on the wall warned people of nudity in the exhibit,
provoking them to enter.

Black lights lit the room.
People glowing purple in the darkness were painted in colorful designs,
appealing florescent landscapes dancing throughout.
She ventured off and returned a few moments later with a red heart painted on her hand.

I asked to take a picture of it, and she responded by extending her hand out to me.

With her arm outstretched I took her hand in mine, and with the flash of the camera she dipped her head just slightly below the surface of the water.
Not bothering to look for the sunken treasure.





(Here is the picture of her heart)

Symphony of a Wrecking Ball

They left the children home and out into the cold winter night they went.

They decided to bring the puppy with them over to their friends who happened to have a puppy from the same litter.

The prospect was entertaining.

For throughout his childhood he couldn't cite a more turbulent time in the relationship between the two parents, than in those blustery days of winters past.


It was almost like a first date of sorts.

In the prime of puberty, a couple hundred students filled a theatre where
the stage curtains were still drawn.

What gushing!
'It just keeps coming out!'
The mucous, thick like an earthworm and red as blood, became even longer the more it was pulled on.

The boy laughed and giggled, then handed a crumpled up ball of paper towel over to his friend who was embarrassed by the sudden tides of emotion that he had just lost control over.

No one really quite knew why, but even into the latter years of school he was prone to a sudden nosebleed.
It was just assumed by his peers that it had something to do with the fowl smelling, unnaturally potent flatulence that had something to do with the bodybuilding pants which he wore everyday.

He once confessed to his friends that he had found a stash of cocaine in his step-father's drawer.
And maybe it had something to do with that, that he became very addicted to wearing bodybuilding pants.


The man lived with his girlfriend and a puppy in a motel that he owned a stones throw from the expressway.
The motel rooms were infamously noisy, and as cheap as the half hourly rate.
Day and night the guests came, and went.

And when later that night the boy's parents returned home, with them they had a surprise of sorts.
For it was a rare occasion to eat fast food in their house, and they had brought him some home.


With Spring, in came a lullaby
And the sound of the chicks.

The mother couldn't hide it.
She had to tell him yet didn't quite know how to.
She had learned herself of the details earlier in the day when the veterinarian called.
The puppy suffered a cardiac arrest while he was being neutered that afternoon.
Apparently it was due to some allergic reaction caused by the anesthesia.

And so the years passed.

One Saturday morning, the boy's father brought home a car that he had just bid on and won from an auction.
It was the same make, and roughly of the same year as the car that his friend, the motel owner, was seen to drive.
The only discernible difference was in it's size and color.

The four door blue coup made its way into the garage where it was parked for some time before the boy,

Exploring the inside of the car one day made a discovery.
He lifted up the back seat, where there underneath he found
a big white bag of baking soda.

And maybe it was due to this,
that the boy loved exploring.

Love singer dies

His eccentric behaviour and fragile mental health drew comparisons to late Pink Floyd founder member Syd Barrett and led to his arrest and six-year incarceration.

Upon Seizing the Vatican

Upon seizing the Vatican, the first thing that I would do is abolish the cross.

The church, by offering redemption through the cross, cheapens the very essence of purity.

And with the false promise of salvation,
it is a symbol of manipulation.

This is consistant with good logic.

A modernized church should celebrate the joy in life's pains -Yea-
Not serve as a constant reminder of the pain in death, from which
no one has yet to attest.

The Audioless Basis as Sound

A few days ago, a video link circulated the web. It was a morning news segment on FoxNews of two brothers demonstrating to a reporter on a busy New York street 'how easy it is to steal a bike and how easy it is to get your bike stolen.'

Holding a portable saw in one hand, one of the boys cuts a chain that is being used to secure a bicycle to a bike rack beside them on the sidewalk.
Abruptly a few moments into the noise of the cutting saw, a scream from the other boy standing nearby draws the camera's attention as he falls onto the ground clenching his throat that he pretends is cut.
The reporter, unamused and somehow offended, stops the segment. 'Stop!' the reporter repeatedly demands, claiming the act unsuitable for the viewers at home who happen to be impressionable children.

In grammar school, the students in class would find particular enjoyment in the activity that involved the teacher whispering a phrase into one of the student's ears, who then in turn would whisper into the ear of the next student what he or she had just heard.
Down the rows it quietly traversed and through the aisles it was passed until finally making its way to the ear of the last student who, speaking in a full voice for all to hear, repeated what it was he or she had just heard.
The students, erupting with laughter, laughed even at times without considering what was being said.

I find it poetic that it was a catholic school.

Something caught my attention the other day and now I'd like to share it...
After having watched the above mentioned video, I became curious about the kinds of comments that people would post.
So I began to read them.
Then appeared one comment in particular that expressed something the other comments before it failed to address. From that point, I am posting the comments below as they appear, until a full cycle in this scientific model of corruption can be seen.


bloghed2 (4 days ago)
'um. the segment was about stealing a bike.'
(reply to this)

bloghed2 (4 days ago)
'um. the segment was about stealing a bike.'
(reply to this)

badgerslol (4 days ago)
'um. the segment was about stealing a bike.'
(reply to this)

badgerslol (4 days ago)
'um. the segment was about stealing a bike.'
(reply to this)

IMNEWB (4 days ago)
'um. the bike was about stealing a segment.'
(reply to this)

indignorant (3 days ago)
'um. the bloghed was about stealing a badger'
(reply to this)

dejahthoris (3 days ago)
'um, it was about TV stealing your soul.'

'I am your computr, I am your God.'

That is what I heard.

'Down With Coca Cola
Down With the Fast Food Killers Of The Xenophobes
Be of the Xenophiles
And Fear Me Alone.
I am your computer. I am your God.
I don’t lie unless when told so.' (-an indictment of pop culture)


There goes an old adage popularized by U.S. gamblers during the 1940's...

'Read it and weep.'

And so I did.