| I used to 'only' paint sad women. Long
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| | whiten in place
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| flowing hair of women looking towards the
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| | deceiving the masses
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| sea. People would always ask me,
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| | and even their own mindsAs noon breaks
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| "Why?""What is interesting about
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| | -all is well
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| 'happy'?" I would always reply.Sheeze...
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| | the commitment of the silver lining
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| a box of kleenex and a good romantic
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| | maintains
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| tragedy, what could be better? Yes I
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| | that contentment is just a state of
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| know, I am a bit of a drama queen. Yes!
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| | mindSo we weave back into our cubicles
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| that is me... I confess. But without
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| | and perceive
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| drama there is no passion! My paintings,
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| | the muted consequences"Memories That
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| sculptures, poems and stories are all
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| | Burn"Pardon my staring
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| about passion and drama. Sometimes it
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| | at dreams going by
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| truly wares me out, I confess to that as
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| | unguarded moments
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| well. Yet, there is simply no other way
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| | and mirrors that flyEach time I've
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| to paint or sculpt or write in my mind
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| | relished
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| except to feel things intensely. Look at
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| | the winged in a word
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| the art in your doctors office.... you
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| | a moon full of heartbeats
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| may like it but I just think, "EWWW!" It
| |
| | and memories that burnPardon my staring
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| is all completely non threatening and
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| | I thought that I knew you
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| BORING! I do paint, sculpt and write
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| | Your eyes toast a signal
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| some happy stuff though so don't get your
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| | to fly through the loopsYet your chalice
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| panties in a bunch. A good laugh or a
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| | seems empty
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| painting of hope, yes of course they have
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| | your frown can be heard
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| their place in the art-world... I
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| | I thought that I knew you
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| guess.So now for your entertainment, get
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| | yet pause... I'm unsureMoments I play on
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| out your kleenex.... "In Every Tear"In
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| | secrets I hold
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| Every Tear there stands a scorn
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| | who challenges teardrops
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| committed to loves past and rivers
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| | if you cover your soul?"Eyes On
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| wasted
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| | Queens"Her excuses were of frailty
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| Skies gloom and focus on a generation of
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| | like any other soul that breaks
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| madness
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| | All the ones that complicate
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| and darkness covers the hue
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| | just to find some sense of dignity
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| that could have saved usThe petals of
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| | search out
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| contentment
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| | the eyes that fall on queens.
|
