our story must not end here

riding the heat of dawn
we insinuated our bodies within one another
I presented myself to you
a wordless story
whispered in raging lines
fertile were my curves

from which our children sprang forth
multitudes

spilling over with god given wealth
a rain of ages

carving the cradle of these infant sons and daughters
my breast milk abundant
nourishing young
influencing adult
satisfying aged

long and beautiful
as I was
as I am
beginning
to end
our story must not end here

Golden Gyptian

if you suspected the Nile River, you’d be correct 🙂

 

that I cannot do

Tell me how
you make it look so easy
They follow you like puppy dogs
that, I cannot do
I’m the one in the corner
watching all the tails wag
If we were in Rome
they’d be your dancing harem
I’d be off in the market
flattening papyrus
or washing sand from between my ink-covered toes
head wrapForlorn
drawn today while subbing

he whispers amen

thank you he whispers
like an amen
the broad smile on his face
I’ve seen somewhere before
his bright marbled eyes map
world destinations traveled decades ago
both light and dark
those hands, trembling and warm
once gripped killing machines
with cool unshakable confidence
back then

they wore their brand of patriotism
like a second skin
back then

there was no doubting
now there is
and today he whispers
thank you and tips his baseball cap
to my young son
who has just held the door
for the elderly gentleman
wearing the navy blue cap with the meticulous insignia
that reads WWII, US P-51 Mustang

lone

lone

previously published, I have no fighter plane art

it was just a room

studio gone
it’s just a room
isn’t it
wasn’t it
what has been lost
it was just a room
if one is passionate
about their work
walls shouldn’t matter
or doors
only the spirit
only the heart
the room might be empty
but the mind is full
always full
if one is passionate
it was just a room
after all

Curl/charcoal

Curl/charcoal

 

 

they enter

they enter
through the revolving door
twirling in and out so quickly
dust flies up behind them
they enter
running up the down escalator
energy so palpable, smiles so bright
we can’t help but do the same
they enter
off the elevator
one primped, polished toe in front of the other
gazing endlessly at reflections
they forget why they took the ride
they enter
through the back entrance
sometimes they stay
but mostly they leave
they enter
through the front door
hugging hello
embracing goodbye
’til we soon meet again
friends til the endteeshirt art previously published

Fa11en

Originally published 9/11/14

For Americans, September 11th has become a day of reflection. On this day we remember the fallen, the injured, the loss, the lessons, the heartbreak, the world…

On that pristine cloudless day in 2001, the New York skyline was blackened. Americans were shocked by tragedy. What happened afterward was nothing short of spectacular. A collective spirit rose up like a phoenix. We grieved a long while then began rebuilding the fallen stone.

After 9/11 many of us looked for ways to help out. I painted hundreds of beach pebbles then planted myself in front of the local grocery store. I sold these rocks for $1 but many teary eyed people donated so much more.
9:11 rocksThrough the generosity of many, I was able to donate over $1,200 to FDNY Rescue 1. They lost eleven men, half their company. The portrait below is of FDNY Rescue 1, Firefighter Gary Geidel (44 years of age), lost 9/11/2001. This portrait went to his mother.
Gary GeidelThere are many parts of the world that can’t look back–their lands are still war zones. I pray for worldwide peace. It is very, very difficult…but not impossible.

For those who lost loved ones on September 11, 2001, my thoughts are with you on this sad day.

muse trident

long before tears conspired
to pour the four oceans
the ancient Greeks acknowledged

a lone muse could not satiate
a human’s desire

and ten divisible by two
too dull in its perfection

in cerebral court
it was decided
to incite
tridents of meditation
three groups of three
to wage ongoing battle

in homage to originality

perhaps
we humans need to believe
inspiration does not dwell within
and creative stimulation
is
something to unleash
outside ourselves

muses
nine
still may be
too few
blue horsesyellowed horses
inspired by avant-garde artist – Franz Marc’s, gorgeous colored horses, all of them

giving

yanking a thread from the soul
that’s what it is
one filament at a time
you unravel

note by note
composing
soundless symphonies
for the outside world

dreaming
word by word
form by form
every infinite limb
in the universe
becomes rapt
in your pursuits

then
one day
there’s nothing left to give
only
what you’ve made

and your efforts
are either remembered
or forgotten
two horned blue birdcrazy blue bird, created a few weeks ago with Tombow markers and Prisma pencils, while in a feathery mood 😉

sippin’ shit from the satellite saucer

dude won
sippin’ shit from the satellite saucer
that’s brain milk in there
did you know?
swallow hard and wait for the
Mensa explosion
a thousand stations
to blow your mind out your ears
snort reality
heady up
here comes the gong show
whoa, get your damn greasy stumps off my pristine screen

dude too
looks soreal

dude won
that’s surreal, jack
hey, step back from the ultra hd
and hands off her ass
you’re crapping up my visual

dude too
freakin’ sharp ass glass
realist trip I ever fell over
‘n I slept in a needle
space powder in my orfeces
oh wait, shit
orifecal holes
man, her ass is sublimb-ded

dude won
you’re pot ROASTED, jack
SUBLIME ass and yes, it is
now repeat after me, “ORIFICE”
hey, get your damn hands
off my ultra hd
I already wiped your last scum off there

dude too
shit man
yer satellite saucer
runnin’ outta menses milk
you got one of them cage-free cows
back there in the yard
maybe hangin’ out in them cannibal plants

dude won
you must be allergic to dairy, jack
that’s cannabis
you fuckin’ idiot!
cow pasture with bullcows brought to graze in 2008, find the little green bull…
Experimentally expressing 😉

He Doesn’t Care, poem published in the Avocet

he doesn’t care

he doesn’t care about crowns
he doesn’t know he is a king
his only kingdom is survival

we attached a silly moniker
for his magnificence
like we determine specie classification
all listed below us
we name each

for the natural beauty, grace and strength
we covet

we only become great with great effort
not like them
who fly, leap, run, swim
in a way that makes us
desire trophies

we manufacture superiority
how we love roaring
we are the rulers of this earthly kingdom
you are only, King of the Jungle
because that’s what we named you…
Lionessdrawn with prisma pencils a few years back