Almost

birds. flight. points of view. trees. mary jane. molly. jack. poison. advertisements. art. creation. relativity. space. women. tragedy. fables. choice. fathers. ideas. philosophy. love. revolution. freedom. nature. species. consciousness. sleep. light. rainbows.

timelines. words. stillness. dreams. and the word almost.

M

M is for the mysteries in existence.
M is for the moods we experience.
M is for the myths after surprise.


more M to soon arise.

like the sun the next chapter blinds
it comes around as a constant remind
of birds chirping tunes of things that exist
likes of which mortal hands can't grip

moments vibrate front of face
little does one know how things take place
to infinity and beyond the smallest connections
are really just another drawn out reflection



the artist urges the viewer to perceive the complexity of subjects deeper than the understanding of words by definition. to be more conscious of things in essence more pure to self. to intangibly grasp the feeling and just feel in silence.



in truth, i'd never known such beauty
that could bring so much through me
not just style and grace, but something more
that moves creativity place to place

so we invent things liken to fix
time, space and emotions to stick
to do what we feel in different capacity
making most of human tragedy



what's the excuse for a muse ever the question
some things we just don't know -the great life lesson
the color the sound the emotion defined
explained to those thoughtful and blind

past the manifestation of obsession
draws a religious collection praising nothing
but something to admire and imagine



aside from developing one approach and tapping into different projects, the artist inverts and experiments with different methodology upon one single focus, the muse.

Eyes Set Sail

i want to hear what you have to say. i'm interested. tell me all the smallest details that will make me fall in love with you. then do that thing you do with your eyes and the fringes of the bangs that fall scattered between those dark eye lashes and eyebrows neatly tried and full. i want to hear about the women in third world countries you met on your summer help tour that looked to you so motherly to teach them of your wisdom and compassion. you tell me you felt sorry for them for how beautiful they were. they are a little naive yet humble and still courageous to nature. most importantly, they respected you. this is when i feel your deep connection with things in bigger senses.
i want you to tell me about who you met in the waiting room of the auto center as you passed time for your oil change. it's always someone old and alone. even if it was interesting, you kept picking their memories making them shovel heaps of details and feelings ever producing the greatest of story tellers. you don't, but i know, they leave with their day made a bit brighter because of you. and you never have to say much.

you dress weird. i never know what's next and those colors, i didn't think would ever go together. you wake up in time periods and i enjoy it. it's funny how you always end up the same person. and i have a little secret. those colors don't go together at all, but you get away with it and everyone loves you. that makes me hate you a little bit. because i know.

soon, you tell me about how things became a mess and how you feel stuck. you complain about your job. it gets moodier, and as you go on, i wish i had been there when you were to help you along. the cracks on the corners of your lips will rise and you begin enthusiastically about your next new adventure and how all you need is a little time. but who's counting? you invite me with you as you glance your head towards my direction. i will sit there dumbfound not at the fact that you said that as conversation filler or were tired of talking and wanted a verbal relay baton to transition, but that it actually spills out of your mouth.

we will have spoken too long and are tired, but always propose each other to a home movie and we both say yes for our own good.

but i never hear what i want to hear and you never tell me these things.

so i start to stare into her eyes. i look for some spark of life that i can connect with and i can't find it. she resonates her own light, but it's me that doesn't see the depth and my eyes become those ocean eyes.

hourglass thoughts

day and night. black and white.
hot and cold. soft and bold.
i didn't have to be told how my behavior
was too extreme for anyone's favor. really.

he had caught himself slipping and everything foiled and collapsed through his fingers like sand. how could he expect a machine to run so smooth? man made operations call for absolute room for error. no doubt. so it starts with it never being in his own personal control in the first place.
he took a deep breathe. this time, he remembered to do it right. breathe it in ever so ever so ever so deeply and then exhale, venting it like fog. you only get to do it once. and get over it.

he lost faith in people. their selfish obtuse perspective that was anything but acute. everything in their own right as it fits best for themselves carrying it further to over-obsessing and adding about amongst their collectible fortunes.

he was stuck in an hourglass not knowing which way to turn. the future was bleak but it was already set in motion. the past, never able to catch up with either. two worlds always running into nothing. that was his problem. everything in his life seemed to move quickly. everything that seemed solid would particalize. thoughts like grains falling so fast falling so fast so fast hitting hard bases.

he drove himself acidic. it was as if he was moving in cranberry jello, the only flavor made of real fruit. as real as he tasted it and as fruity of a predicament his reality was.

he had to realize he was in control. he was a gear in the machine and amongst the unique rates other gears were grinding to movie the machine, it all still functioned, just not as perfectly. it will never be perfect. never and perfect are two words that belonged together.

at the end of that breathe, time shifted and he was in a brand new direction.

blanket eyes

the interstate was blanketed with a misty sheet of fog. head lamps passed numerously and repeatedly overhead as if they had momentum of their own, evenly spaced- passing, passing, passing, curving with the road. he was lucky to be driving on smoothly paved highway, especially in los angeles, a metropolis shooting veins of freeways. it was coasting. driving. and jonathan was sitting. comfortably. the constant wiping of the wind shield wipers were usually enough to annoy, but this time, it didn't bother him. he saw it's purpose and everything seemed to make sense. his view was clear even as the translucent film from mist coated the windshield, blinking with each wipe. he flashed in a dream sequence where beds just magically float in the night sky and stars stuck around glowing beautiful warm hugs to those who just paid attention, putting you in a trance sending you to marshmellow rest.
arcade fire choired his ears, sending him to see ghost towns with thoughts of empty parked cars aligning the streets. he imagined this for long stretches, because he knew the world had a lot to offer and everything was endlessly hiding. he knew there was amazing light eclipsed behind all the closed doors and the fog that flooded the canals of streets set an unearthly nature in it's undiscovery. jonathan wanted to discover the hidden coves. he wanted to observe the differnt animals and note their odd behavior. to him, it never got old.
he just drove and soon took note that he was following the direction of telephone wire heading east. at this pace, he would detrimentally run into the sun. he wanted the fog to last forever. the sun would shine and unmask time, devilish details and the otherworldly. no, no, no. just give me time, jonathan chimed. please.
the ultimate wish.
he barely began feeling as if he were headed towards his great adventure away from home.
if his moment had stretched for a month, jonathan was sure he would instantly embark on the cross country road trip he knew he would never do. the weather and climate would change to his unliking. but time changes. jonathan will never get used to time.

ZooeyZooZoo

Zooey

Zooey Par Deux

Zooey Fin




in a time of great disaster
nothing seems to matter
only because i can't have her

she's in her own time
where there's flowers and sunshine
things she can call hers mine

here is the time passing
on a canvas lapsing
with some wishful grasping

yet time stands still

i see the fires burn
wait for wars to turn
and hope that people learn

i'm glad that she's not here
the darkness she does not steer
not able to create fear

so it comes from a place
feelings i can't chase
she takes the hearts base

yet time stands still

Following Hearts

for the sake of love they push and shove for us
close to touch yet far as much there is a must
to buy media through pazzo shoes we trust
stalking fame to parts of our hearts it busts

Shazam

sometimes we just want to leave. cover ourselves. vanish. get away.
and its frustrating. ungrasping. stressful and numb.
because it doesnt work out the way. direction. will. state.
we really want it to. be. changed. imagined.

and. shazam.

collectively, our senses overload. waken. explode.
reload. recuperate. return. burn!

Coat of Arms

we cover ourselves with our arms
when we brace the cold and the harm

we wear our hearts on our sleeves
to express ourselves for all to see

we reach extending our hands
trying to make contact with fellow man

this is the portrait of a man embracing himself
another book on the shelf

Mermaid Lover

she lives by a land where unicorns gallop, dragons dwell, griffins soar, centaurs roam and mermaids swim. the trees talk to one another and the river combs through the land so gracefully. in her land, smoke filled the air, machines hammered the road and dark clouds of spirits terrorized the gates at every corner. she so longed to visit the outside for it was once her home, but her deeds were not done. the piper wanted to keep her. she was tricked by a pied piper to walk into a blinding dark tunnel that lead into his world. the piper played sweet melodies and told her he would show her things that was beyond the glorious facade of a fairy tale. she had not known it would come to this. although her eyes widened, she wanted to go home. day after day passed and she became sick.
viruses plagued the dark land.
if there was anything she wanted more, it was to get out. no one was going to help her until she decided to help herself. she then ran. she ran through dark weeds that scratched and tore her dress and legs. she pushed away the vultures that flew down towards her. she was determined not to stay. she would go as far as her body would take her.
suddenly, there was a light beyond the cliff. light! bright natural light! concrete towers have always surrounded her, shadowing her heart and for her to see a glimpse of light was a miracle. she ran towards it and jumped off the cliff....
she fell....
hundreds of feet...
down, down, down...
splash!
she finally got away from the dark land and waded along with the current not knowing what she would get into.
wading along, she drifted into a cove filled with crystals. the light refracted through the crystals making rainbows end along every scale of the walls.
there, the mermaids greeted her with a pearl and told her she was home.

Thomas

there stands a dilapidated home on a dry suburban street. it is tucked along back dirty concrete weeded alleys. an untamed dog roams the front yard careless of your every which move for it knows of its capabilities of tearing unwanted folk apart and it knew it could. here stands an appearance of an unwanted change and progress.
thomas arrives home to something different. he lives among the dry heave, but he is tucked into his own back guest house full of vibrant reds, blues, yellows and zest! there are collections of toys beautifully patterned out and arranged. its friendly and comfortable. thomas has the taste of pop art as a palate around his personal space. he spends his time typing away gallantly finding new prizes through his computer. he is nit picky about his generous offers but he knows what he wants likes and can have.
music is his vessel. he composes musical notes filled with quirky animated sounds and commands it.
there in this neighborhoods is a creative circus.

Kristy

she stood there mute and graceful in a dark room filled with chaotic energy. lights flashed left and right playing along with the thunderous symphony constructed by the musical ensemble. the flashes gleamed around her and flashed more like that of an old hollywood premiere as if it were subtly constructing her as the starlet of the moment. her cropped houndstooth coat pushed and crunched her straight raven black hair up. it makes her bangs more noticeable and suddenly, her brown eyes roll around. left, right, and it's hard but to follow them. it's transfixing. the gaze then turns and so does her petite body. she turns as if she reached the end of the runway and was closing a chanel show; about to have a glass of san pellegrino with karl. she walks outside and entertains her palate with a cigarette. she waits for the crisp autumn wind to carry her along.