I am vain

This piece inspired by my face, currently a disaster of stress rash. Apparently, holding back, in an attempt to be monstrously strong, isn’t good for you. I can now use my face like a 70’s mood ring. Never believed I was vain, but lately I’m hiding in the shadows along with my creatures.

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escaping

the young athlete in purple and gold was trying to escape
his muscles maxing out in length beneath his sweating skin
each time crawling on knees and palms to reach the outer ring
to safety
every wrestler knows when you reach that white circle, the whistle blows
out of bounds
you get another chance
he was fierce
yes he was
in his determination

the other wrestler wearing the baby-blue and white singlet
continued lunging at his fleeing opponent
baby-blue and white wanted the win badly
purple and gold was trying with all his power to escape

on the other side of the large wrestling mat,
a bulbous-bellied man in a bright yellow shirt
was positioned like the sun
he stood there eclipsing all else around him with
his giant flashing camera and smashing fists
he was a bright star
without the warmth
but with all the heat
loads of hot air bursting out
through a constant barrage of bellows
screaming at the young wrestler–his son
“YOU HAVE TO DO BETTER THAN THAT”
“GOTTA PULL YOUR LEG ‘ROUND FASTER”
“QUIT RUNNING FOR THE RING”
“YOU’RE NOT TRYING”

and secretly, the young wrestler in the purple and gold and I both knew
he was trying
trying very hard
to escape
to reach that white circle
and never stop running
Love Tackleart previously published
unfortunately, this is a true story, colors of singlets were changed to protect the innocent:)

let cling to our skin

they cling to the legs
Ignorance and Want
beneath rich velvet robes
two malnourished beings
present in Their suffering
we remain focused on our priorities
during this season of hope and love
wrap tenderly our hearts
with Their existence
let us go forth
in humble spirit
and grand charity

fiercefor Rocky
Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol
The Ghost of Christmas Present

the tipping point

the tipping point
there is one
and this is it
spinning on sharp hair
like a top
waiting to see which way
the body falls
I can already hear the thud
welcome music to my ears
eyes finally close
rest now
you’ll spin again
tomorrow

leonada's earring

leonada’s earring

happy wardsday

Steel bars
Rubber rooms
Cement cells
Padded enclosures
Underground wards

If you don’t occasionally seek asylum in your life
you just might end up in one

blogger g

blogger g

I wanted an excuse to use this fella again. He might be an amalgam of Jason and Hannibal stitched by Dr. Moreau – just the sort you’d find in the Asylum of Angst

mondayster, boosday, wardsday, fursday, frieday…hell-o-ween;)

no comfort here

beloved
hiding above the tempestuous sun
and beneath the marauding stars
fingers shaking
I extend my arms
the layman’s moon is within reach
gentle and giving
not you
your condemning avoidance
bitter cold like ice shards
when will you come to me
when will you let me caress
when will you comfort me
as I do you
words of mine…

Wingless

Wingless

rendered a few months ago and still waitin’ on those wings 😉

madness be damned

perpetual motion has been busting my fold
between wake and sleep
sometimes it is present when I am not
other times it sits on my lungs
it is following a bit too closely
fearing it will tease me and leap out the window
like dust particles that once belonged to the ground
in every room a pad and pen
the nagging words, nonsensical sometimes
inked and captured
if they aren’t, I do not rest
then it starts
each strand of hair yanked one by one
in every room a pad and pencil
images for the lopsided prose
forms exsanguinating from bodily dreams
I might lose my mind
alas, it would be something I’d capture
before the last grey cell disintegrates
perhaps I might finally understand
Ensor or Poe
minds wild
madness be damned

Although sometimes I have felt that I held fire in my hands and spread a page with shining, I have never lost the weight of clumsiness, of ignorance, of aching inability
–John Steinbeck

TopHead

My little madman is losing his head to hats…

life is a line

we sometimes spend our lives concerned over –
being first on line
choosing the right path
towing the line
being offline
being online
going down the wrong road
border lines
bylines
lineups
crossing the line
traffic lines
skylines
tree lines
the waterline
the shoreline
outlines
tan lines
following dotted lines
our waistlines
defense lines
taking the shortest line
getting wires crossed or knotted up
sniffing lines
hem lines
panty lines
firing lines
signing on the line
communication lines
wrinkle lines
writing lines
lines of demarcation
timelines
fault lines
waiting in line
making headlines, avoiding them
picket lines
yellow lines
assembly lines
coloring in the lines
cutting on the lines
perfect lines
making beelines
memorizing lines
first lines
last lines
stepping out of line
lining up
drawing lines in the sand
pickup lines
party lines
lines of crap
a line of bullshit
lifelines…
the only line missing
is the only line that matters
it is the line cut into our flesh upon conception
the thin, supple line that separates our life from our death

there is a line.
walk it well
cycleLife Cycle, acrylic on paper painted thirty years prior

Whenever I Feel Afraid, I Whistle and Make Monsters

Dear Friends,
I love show tunes because you can sing at the top of your lungs without guilt. I love show tunes because they embody music, word, prop, makeup, magic and my favorite ‘ism’ – Escapism… I especially adore, The King and I. Many years ago, I fell in love with Yul Brynner and his sexy voice.

At the beginning of every school year, I sing Whistle a Happy Tune ad nauseam. A more perfect union of words never existed…

Whenever I feel afraid
I hold my head erect
And whistle a happy tune
So no one will suspect I’m afraid

While shivering in my shoes
I strike a careless pose
And whistle a happy tune
And no one ever knows I’m afraid

purple grumpThe result of this deception
Is very strange to tell
For when I fool the people
I fear I fool myself as well

I whistle a happy tune
And every single time
The happiness in the tune
Convinces me that I’m not afraid

purple grump groupMake believe you’re brave
And the trick will take you far
You may be as brave
As you make believe you are

You may be as brave
As you make believe you are

Whenever I feel afraid I whistle and make monsters 🙂
Thank you. May you dream of little purple men carrying you off to dreamland…
Purple Grump and Purple Grump Clan created 2009 for monster project

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