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IncoherenceUnsure how to respond, certitude drips from my fingertips.Incoherence
You should be able to find me anywhere, just follow the mess of confusion
trailing behind me down the hallway.
Irrational, really it's all irrelevant, irreverent, the whole thing - its meaning, is reality,
its memory fading out around the edges, dripping from my fingertips. I wish I could retrieve it, but there it goes splashing in small quicksilver puddles, metaphorically, of course, as they're coloursless, formless, shapeless but they take my form with them &nb
by ~raven-the-creator
...forgetful of SelfAnd the world’s been around a couple times since then....forgetful of Self
I lost my identity, the other day, in a restaurant downtown, then picked it up with the tab on my way out. Actually, I think it trailed along behind me for a while until, perhaps, I finally fell asleep and it snuck back in through my dreams.
I started off as me, of course, as the me that ends at the boundaries of my skin. The me that wore the shiny black shirt and the fedora to the bar. The me that walks with a bit of a swagger that quickly fades into a ‘Walk faster!’ when passing the shifty drunken character
by ~raven-the-creator
Favourites
In Search of the Phantom eI woke up yesterday, and forgot to write a poem. I said some stuff, that must have come out poetically inspirational, but I didn't write a single thing down. once. I found a pen, but I stopped too long to consider the possibility of North American Shamans practising time travel, and accidently lost my Cosmos down the crack of the couch. And when faced by something that traumatizing, one can often forget poetry. So I tried reaching in beside the cushion, brushing my fingers along Ursa Major, but I just couldn't quite get a grip. I later found some floss above the fridge and tried making a lasooIn Search of the Phantom e
by ~childoftheuniverse
modelling for the artssoft slippers whisper their way to the center of the room the grease and chlorine have all been washed from her hair she's left bare, fresh, like the crisp piece of papermodelling for the arts
someone's crinkling in the back corner while from a seperate easel comes the velcro peel of torn masking tape, commencing another three hour session. she throws down her embarrasement red satin robes flowing off a chair, placed their for her convenience as charcoal scratches sound subtle off poised flesh. stretched taunt to allow for a more creative pose she's exposed under strategically harsh lighting
by ~childoftheuniverse
a memory
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: everywhere and nowhere
- Interests: art, philosophy, pretending like I'm on Mission Impossible and skulking around the neighbourhoo
- Favourite movie: Sacred Sacred
- Favourite band or musician: The Undesirables
- Favourite genre of music: music, real music, not poser music.
- Favourite poet or writer: Nietzsche, Ken Wilber, Satre, Descartes
- Operating System: the universe
- Skin of choice: the one I'm in
- Favourite game: throw yourself down a snowy hill, wrapped in a large garbage bag
- Personal Quote: Spectacular.
- Tools of the Trade: general chaos and self-revelation
- Email: raven.the.creator@gmail.com
- MSN: spacemonkeys85@hotmail.com
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Allen Lee Taylor, ALTPhotoImages - [link]
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Come and view my limited edition prints at:
[link]
‘The images have an intensity rarely portrayed with such simplicity, speaking volumes with an emotive depth of rich colour and striking density.’
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I lost my signature in the bottom of the metaphorical bottle.
--
Come and view my limited edition prints at:
[link]
‘The images have an intensity rarely portrayed with such simplicity, speaking volumes with an emotive depth of rich colour and striking density.’
--
I lost my signature in the bottom of the metaphorical bottle.
Thanks again. You really know how to restore faith.
--
Come and view my limited edition prints at:
[link]
‘The images have an intensity rarely portrayed with such simplicity, speaking volumes with an emotive depth of rich colour and striking density.’
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