Philophosy 101 part 1

Hello
and
welcome

Purple Sky, Grand Mountains

Loose artwork represents a strange phenomena amongst painters. Most of my favorite paintings of all time are very loosely done, with hardly any attention to detail. I feel it is important to recognize why detail is not the most important element of a picture and why quick, effortless, and loose styles of painting are the way to go.

Like many people, I believed the quality of art depended on its detail and realism. I was confused by the success of names like Picasso and Van Gogh. The problem is that detail actually does not represent a good picture, but rather a good part. If one believe detail or exactness is what makes a good picture good, then simply look at Kazimir Malevich’s “Black Square”



Ah yes! Black Square perfectly depicts a black room, or the details of my armpit! Is Black Square not a perfect close up of my black suite? I jest however as I don’t believe that Black Square is actually an enjoyable painting, simply a highly detailed one.

Secondly, detail and realism go hand in hand. Realism however has many flaws, too many for me to cover in the space of this article however for completeness of arguments sake I will present some surface ones. Realism is not truly art because it is not creative. The artist is simply demonstrating his mastery of techniques that can replicate god’s art. On this note, all realist painters have failed their demonstration because they can never do a better job than god. Photographs do a better job than paints at depicting detail and those still generally fail to capture the full beauty of a scene, atleast in the hands of an amateur. Therefore, detail can’t be the metric of quality art.

So what makes art good and what does that have to do with loose brushwork? Most of the great artists will tell you the secret to remarkable art is almost entirely composition. Composition is both the arrangement of elements on your picture and the way the picture manages the flow of attention of your viewer. If you are interested in improving your own work, there are plenty of books and web articles on the topic. All of the elements in a picture can be broken up into different shapes, and lines that the eye follows. Following in love with a picture is a very immediate thing, far faster that the time it would take to pay attention to details. This leads me to believe that as long as you master composition details become less relevant. In fact, I believe placing extensive details in your picture will both slow you down, and increase the likely hood that the eye becomes distracted while examining a painting.

The other thing that loose brushwork does for you is it increases your ability to express emotion. The same apple still life can be done, with violent, big, aggressive brush strokes -or- soft, swirly, brushstrokes. When your no longer restricted to portraying the reality of scene, it becomes much easier to express the emotion in your picture. Emotion is so important to painting as it gives meaning to the images you create. Instead of “here is a picture of a horse, here is a etc....” your have a meaningful tender nosed horse, not just in physically appearance aspect but every element of your painting allows your express that same tenderness. This is something I feel I could have done a better job with in Purple Sky, Grand Mountains. Nonetheless, it can still dramatically make a difference between a mediocre painting, and a classic.

Magic Card Alter

Please meet Sakura-tribe Elder, the third card I’ve altered with acrylic paints (I specify acrylic, as more than one magic card has received a sharpie mustache from me). I still remain largely uncertain about altering cards, but I feel this is one of my favorites that I’ve done in my little experiments. I’ve considered myself an artist for hardly a year now but I feel I made leaps and bounds in that time. One of the most interesting things regarding altering magic cards is the surprising lack of transferable skills from more traditional forms of art e.g. landscape painting.

 One would think that painting is always painting but this is really not the case. To be fair, color mixing skills and the ability to discern details are needed for both, but they differ in several areas. When approaching a painting, rarely does one have to be able to perfectly match the colors of your inspiration photo. Artists cheat colors. The entire concept of the extremely popular impressionism style is based upon the idea of embellishing color. With an alter, you spend most of your time mixing colors. Also, in painting you generally get more than ½ an inch to work in.

Another key difference lies in the decision process. When painting from your head, you can paint anything you want, but obviously Sakura-Tribe Elder does not want a border of cows and blue sky. Interestingly enough altering differs ever more substantially than painting from a photograph. When you stare into the borders, there is no predefined way to paint them. Conversely, a photograph is really a set of directions that tells you what to paint and precisely where to do so. I have the option of neglecting any detail I want when doing an alter. The portion directly above the Name Bar was the most difficult for me, partly because of such reasons. I had to both imagine how it would look with ¼ of an inch of space separating them, while basing that thought in the details I was already provided. In reality doing an alter takes more decisions and time per square inch than traditional or abstract painting.

In terms of the actually alter at hand, I really enjoy the sides of Sakura-tribe Elder. I loosely brushed a dark brown in to give the impression that the branch extended into a cloud of greens. The foliage was fairly easy as none of it had a defined shape. I don’t know how I feel about the top, or what I would do to improve it. Mostly it was a tad overworked and slightly off design-wise. Finally I feel I could have done a better job blending the black bottom and the greens. In spite of all that, it had an overall high-quality look to it.

Why do I fear being alone?

I am a helpless romantic who is afraid of being alone... Although I constantly feel like I am alone, I am just too terrified. Terrified about my future, who I am, and about those around me. The whole reason I feel like I have to prove myself is because no one believed in me when I was a child but now when people say they believe in me... It almost feels empty. I'm surrounded by so many people who care about me but it isn't enough, I still feel lonley. I see people around me and I think, I'm missing the important thing, having more people isn't working. I need something close and next to me not just people surrounding me.

I am reminded of a proverb that goes like this:

"why is snow white?...because its forgotten what color it's supposed to be."

What color am I supposed to be? I don't even feel like it matters anymore because it doesn't matter how I appear to others. Because as long as there is a snowflake next to me, drifting as I do, I'm not alone; and really as snowflakes we are all different in our one subtle ways, no two are alike. Maybe one of these days I wont feel like I'm a single snowflake, maybe I will feel like I'm part of a snow fall. All making up the snow that covers the ground on Christmas morning, thats part of the meaning of winter, of a family clustered around a hearth, never alone.

Lately I've been hearing about this thing called "reform" maybe I should get me one of those? It may be good to try something new.

-the hopeless ramblings of Sharad Richardet

http://gameknot.com/annotation.pl/lets-play-chess?gm=39416

Here's one of my better games, and I decided to annotate it. Good opening and mid game ideas.

Toast

Learn to fly

I build my tower

And though it sways like a flower

I build higher

Into the sky

I jump hoping to god i can fly

But if I die

My children can build higher

And hope to god they can fly

And if you die before you have children

People will always wonder why

Oh why did he try to fly?

Ah, but then

Who are we to say a human cant fly?

If they believe in their heart they can try

Then they will look to the sky

And learn to fly

Abstraction process

A master piece of Picasso's art, "The Three Musicians" is one of my favorite painting. Recently I have been inspired by the concepts of song sampling to be applied to art. In song sampling, a musician eletronicly breaks down a song into phrase that he assigns to keys on a keyboard to be rearranged and mixed in new ways. The sampled song often doesn't sound anything like the new product. Using photoshop you can break a picture down and recreate it in a mind-boogling number of ways. This is just one of them

In the ever progressing effort to innovate on something innovative, I have applied a photoshop abstraction method to the three musicians. In abstract paintings, the use of rigid lines is rare, so I want to rid myself of detail. I used a blur filter and brush to do this. The next step was to change the color scheme. Here I used blue and orange as the dominates, by applying the charcoal and chalk filter. After that filter you're left with gray, blue and orange as the only colors. To add my secondary colors, yellow and purple I used a color replacer adjustment to remove colors of gray and replace them with those. Than I went to town with my smudge tool to get the desired level of smoothness and blur and other effects like that. Finally I added a point of interest, a vector shape stripe orange blue, purple, and yellow to the mid-left.

A Stranger in Frown Town

Summary of Decoded

 Jay-Z wrote the book "Decoded" about his life and the Hip-Hop Industry. It was released in 2010.

Born 10 pounds/greatest spitter of sounds/as a kid I fought rounds/of rap battles in the streets/on playgrounds/made my own sounds to rap on/My story ain’t no once upon/a time to tell the greatest tale rags to riches/made it rich but never scrubbed dishes/instead I stood on street corners/never had no owners/From drug dealin/to word wheelin’/this is my faerie tale

Momma bought me a nookbook/I aint no crook/ just a black poet/ I know it’s hard to know it/when I rap about hustlin’ and dealin’ and my friends who be stealin’/Let’s make this clear, those things were never my mission, just a product of my livin’ condition/where everybody be snickin/

I never grew up wishin’/to be on the streets d-dealin’/just telling you my hustler story/swear I ain’t trying to make it out as a glory/what I’ve done is done/my song isn’t going to corrupt your son/You don’t cover up the truth to make it go away/I got some more to say

I use language to represent/all the anger and rage we got pent/from living in poverty my whole life/My daddy don’t even have a wife/left me alone to watch my own/that hurt worse than any stone/but to make matters worse/that same curse afflicted all my friends/No father in the lions dens/

I know mamas don’t like my N-word/they don’t realize I was an A-nerd/Photographic memory as sharp as an arrow/the path I walked is kinda narrow/No room for the dumb/under the music industries thumb/don’t ask me how kayne got here/he’s from some other atmosphere/

My audience ain’t no PC mommas/ it’s the poor in the Bahamas/the poor in Brooklyn/So I use the N-word/and people scream it’s absurd/I’m just telling it like it is/so just sit and listen to me Mizz/censorship doesn’t make it go away/Do you understand me Ok?/if you can’t handle my story/can’t handle when the world gets gory/we gotta fix poverty/That’s the center of my harmony/the projects are scary because the rich made ‘em like that/we band under the gangster hat/for protection from oppression/my art is a confession/of the truth/This ain’t weird Al spoof

I had bigger plans than school/had an Industry to rule/stood on street corners and rapped in my head/Barely talked, people though me brain dead/two choices/The drug dealing road/that can leave a man oh so cold/Or roll in the hip-hop mood/and risk having no food/Didn’t know which path to take/tried to quit but dealing is like charming a snake/if you stop ya get bit/I couldn’t risk a quit/my crew told my rapping was for the fool/my band told me drugs were a death tool/which way to go/I didn’t know

With a ratatat my supplier was dead/Shot through the head/balls in his own mouth/I left before things went south/I knew it was time to stop/time to embrace hip-hop/My homies dragged me to labels/But I got dismissed like a books of fables/So I opened the R.O.C/opened it for Nigz just like me/Local MC’s can see the good things in me/We spent the summer producing an album/I couldn’t fathom that I had just launched the biggest rap label/my CD took off like a cable/car I knew was going to go far

I wanted to stop after the first/but poets have a curse/the words just keep coming/the tunes I’m still humming/The world wanted more/I went on my 2^nd tour/My first was with the MC kane/He knock rhymes out like a bowling ball in lane/before long I launched three records/Reasonable Doubt, The black album, Life and times of Shawn Carter/Now everyone knew who was smarter/Those that rejected me wanted me back/change labels now was totally wack/I was going to be the guy/Just saying my name got folks high/My raps were in demand/even by those without a tan/I had transcended the racial barrier/Flew over like a harrier/Rags to riches/I Never scrubbed dishes

Now everyone knows my name/my success opened a whole new game/National figure/grew out of a quiet clever nigger/I’ve put a president in office/Inspire the youth to be pompous/I might go down in history as the greatest rapper to ever be! My name is Jay-Z

In Remembrance

As we set out on this journey, young and bright,

We did not have a clue of this plight,

What I believe, as many others portray

That we were wiser than we are today.

I never thought it would come to this,

ruining the purity of our bliss,

So innocent, just so fine,

our thirst for wisdom was absurdly divine!

Our quest went sour, our quest went amuck,

once we started using the profane word ____,

It is not cool, it is not right,

so stop, or I'll leave, I just might!

So, my fellow comrades, as I say farewell,

please check your heart as it spouts from your well,

For even as the vulgarity flared,

I remember the great times we've shared.

This is our Decision to Live Fast and Die Young

like really, "live fast and die young" is the way the go.

From the moment we are born, we are constantly approaching death. It sounds grim doesn't it? Not to get too distracted here but...

During my time playing competitive magic I've learned a lot about life. In magic for every strategy their is a counter. People will put cards in their decks in order to beat your deck. In response you can do three things: change decks, counteract their counters, or ignore them and make other elements of your deck stronger. Often times people will fight strategies using ineffective methods, they try to directly fight what they see as the obvious solution. The best solution to most strategies usually involve creative thinking.
End Aside

We are faced with death on every front from the time we are born. Disease, Violence, Natural Disasters, shit hitting a fan (to reference Airplane), the list is endless. I once theorized that every physical object could be used to end life. (Wipe Cream is scary!!!) So when faced with these problems we learn to protect are selves. Death is one deck, we are the other. We see death playing lots of cards that kill us, so in turn we add lots of cards to protect ourselves. In the end we end of with a deck that can never win but instead can only survive. Unforntately death has this one card called "time" that will kill anything that lives for a long time. This directly parallels real life. Death is stronger than any amount of protein shakes, vitamins, workouts, or anti-aging chemicals. While flood insurance will help you rebuild after disasters, death will kill you eventually. You can't beat death.

If i concluded my article here, things would feel very grim, wouldn't they? The good news is that this new knowledge can be used to make you happier (YAY!). Because the risk of death is 100%, every thing that can kill you isn't actaully going to end you life, as you were fated to die anyways.

Risk and reward generally scales in a direct relationship, as as the risk of death of already 100%, their is nothing in this world but rewards. Lets say you enjoy painting, but you could also make a reasonable living computing numbers for some business or another. As a painter you're unlikely to make very much money at all, with a small chance of becoming enormously famous. (Think Banksy, modern day artist who brought street art to the public eye. His paintings sell for a couple hundred thousand. He could piss on a piece of paper and sell the thing for atleast $50,00) As business person who doesn't ever do anything fun except buy new a house, and they realize that life is out to get you, as the bank forecloses it later. The painter is the riskier profession because you likely not be able to make much money, starve and die, but that was already going to happen, eventually as i proved earlier. Let me demonstrate another example, owing a business. This is actually the perfect situation to showcase Risk-Reward relationships. The simple explanation of owning a business is often "All the profits with all the risk". This is exactly what you need to do with you life, I think everyone should try to own a business. We always hear about these crazy success stories like the people who invent Facebook and Google, now millionaires. "But really, is everyone going to be that successful?". No of course not, just make sure to invest everything into making it a success. If your business crashes, you die, but so what?!?! Like it's not that you've lost something you weren't already going to loss anyways. Think Romeo-Juliet type commitment. I'm one hundred percent serious about the dieing part. Think about the possible outcomes:
1. Crazy success, the ability to do whatever else you want to do with your life.
2. Moderate success, that good feeling you get from owning success.
3. Failure and starvation, I hear heaven is actually a really nice place.

None of those are bad!!
So in conclusion, take risks because once the risk of death exceeds 100% you have nothing to loss.
You have nothing to loss from the day your born. Never shoot for a moderate living. Shoot for the ridiculous.

Assumptions and Cookies

A gorgeous beauty sits across the table
Distracting me with it's seductive aroma,
One taste of siren puts you in coma
Every time the pleasure is intoxicating
So to sit here watching
Is tantalizing

Later that night
I am fit to begin the fight
As I see it's unclothed form
Soon that desire storm
of licks and lookie
Is unleashed as I picks
Up the cookie
and Plop

That lovely flop
into my mouth

Why we don't Encourage Speaking

Thinking liberally in Kansas has taught me some things.
Convincing my mother that not all liberal ideas are good has taught me some things.
Defending an unpopular topic in a room full of fierce opposition is just about my favorite thing to do.
Today’s topic is about the nature of our opposition to swear words, and how in reality labeling these words as such causes greater ills than goods.
    When I was about ten maybe eleventh years old, I went to my first Friday Night Magic (FNM), a party for Magic: The Gathering players, in essence. This is the place where all the nerd gamers from high school hang out, now adults; but still act like children, playing a card game. Yes FNM is a beautiful thing, a room full of kids using adult language and their cunning mind working at strategy games, in order to throw hundreds of dollars down the toilet. In our ranks was the worst mouth of all, an ex-marine gone strategist, running the show with his creative use of the term “Mother Fucker”, had the ability to just insert it in any phrase he pleased and got away with it. Nobody raised concern; everyone had a good time at these FNM.
    There was alway the brave trouble makers at school, slipping the word “bitch” into their conversation and their dramatic exiting speech whenever they got kicked out of class. These folks got a lot of attention because they showed the free-spirited youthful rebellion as they uttered those forbidden words. As teenagers we all feel that sense of rebelliousness, those that expressed it got socially rewarded. A phenomenon spread through each grade, one by one, year after year. Something about the freedom gained at the age of 13 changed people. They ripped their jeans, jammed to Rock, Rap, and Sexual Pop music on the bus, because up until that point Ipods were banned on school bus.
    And now, as I go to freshmen school I hear these words as free as if these ancient codes that forbid these words are now lifted. All of these events have made me realize that there is no evil menace in these words; the menace itself comes from our elder’s suppression of such words.
    A words meaning is only the way you use it. We have two sections of negative words, soft words and then swear words. If I tell you “YOU ARE LAME” when you’re having a bad day, in a very mean and loud manner, what is the difference between that and softly uttering, “You’re really bitchy today”. I for one would be more hurt by some one seriously screaming phrase one into my ear, with the entire serious and ill wish that is generally associated with yelling “Bitch” across the room. So when I joking use a swear word, or joking use the word Buttface, only one of those gets a stern look from my teacher. Words’ meaning is entirely dependent on the presentation of that word. Interpretations the spoken phrase are affected by intent the same way.
    Within the bible it says something about the fouls of the use of an ill tongue. This is generally accepted to mean that is it good for your soul’s integrity if you don’t use swear words. However this verse can be applied to any mean phrase or comment, such as the commonly used like; “You’re silly, you’re dumb”, Weakling, slow, retarded, etc. We all know these to be most often used in a joking manner. We also use swear words in the joking manner. So to use this biblical phrase to ban the use of any swear word, no matter the context, it is to ban the use of any negative term. An absolute resolve against foul language is needed to keep a clean soul. I feel logic like this falls clearly into the pot of narrow and strict interpretations of language that is destructive and impedes progress.
    Labeling some words as illegal violates our write to express ourselves, legally. The suppression of thoughts and ideas, simply because of a trivial “banned” list is destructive to society. We need to be able to feel that we can speak freely regardless of the language used. Banning these words in general society cause the youth to actively want to use them, out of the naturally feeling of rebellion that comes about during the age of mental development. When we are told we can’t do something, psychology proves that we want to do it even more. Little kids want to ride the 46” restricted roller coasters, even though it clearly is not happening.
    Often times rappers get a lot of slam for putting dirty language in our childrens hearts and minds. Rap, as all art forms do, express the artists feelings. On the harsh street of urban housing projects, they speak like that. So to censor the words that they use to express themselves inaccurately portrays the harsh hood life. Instead of complaining about “Bitch & Hoe” content, we need to working to Improve the life of the poor.
    Shit Shit Shit…..

Debate Topic: is it wrong to swear?

While I will post a full article on the topic over the weekend, I would like to start another debate hopefully one as fruitful as our immigration. So I propose an ethnic question very related to highschoolers. Is it wrong to swear? Cuss curse or utter the profanity?

Does that allow such words cite reasons such as free speech, intend creates meaning, taboo creates the problem, dramatic purpose is justified.

Does that oppose swearing say the a bad mouth creates bad character, the bible forbids it, the desire to say such words are caused by trivial desire for rebellion.

I'm interested in what y'all think

Love beats the grasp of hell, once again

Walking alone on a clouded street,
like my mother I stare at two feet.
The black puddles engulf my white shoes.
because I know my love might soon lose,
All that their is and all that was had.
Like my mother felt when I was sad.

I sit, deeply troubled and I wait,
hopeful, outside the hospital gate.

Walking with you on a clouded street
Kissed with flame, I stare at just three feet

Crushed as you may be,
You will always have me.

Rivendell

This is a poem I wrote about heaven, exploring how the world views the afterlife. My apologies for the Lord of the Rings allusions.

Rivendell

A scintillating seraph

has thoughts of
fair futures in ever-peaceful

Rivendell.

The glossy-pink

sherry sky

watches with

its single eye,
and says to itself;
the Homely House is
gone,
the elves are
gone.
Crispy tears
drip down her face
like

Don Giovanni praying

soulless songs.

The sundering sea
lays like a
contented Charon, guarding the
Underworld.
“The ships are gone,
No more will pass,”
Rumbling waves proclaim.

Alas!

The silver-haired elves
and
lonely-forgotten gods
joyously weep
at their news.

Winter softly plays
bitter sullen melodies
in empty chambers;

The world has ended.

The scintillating seraph
stares across the sea.

Illegal Immigration

In my Spanish Class, we have started to talk about illegal immigration, so I decided to write about my views now.

I believe that preventing the movement of people across borders is wrong. What are borders, but lines on a map? What right do we have to prevent people from coming to America, other than being born here?

My plan would be to stop policing the borders of the U.S., and allow anyone to enter. Not only would this save money on guards, but it could allow us to tax the illegal workers already in the U.S.

An obvious criticism of allowing immigration would be the increased likelihood of terrorism. People would fear that terrorists might infiltrate our country and attack. That may once have been the case, but terrorists now are more and more normal citizens of the countries in which they attack. As The Economist put it, between 2004 and 2008 "fully 84% of culprits had a western upbringing but only 28% had links to foreign militants".

This policy could be complemented with a removal of the minimum wage. The influx of workers would increase competition for work, and lower the cost of labor within the United States, allowing us to be more competitive with emerging economies, such as China. As a resident of Wichita, I've seen companies threated to export jobs to other countries, for their lower wages, and this would prevent that from happening. It could even spur new job creation, because companies' profits would be higher.

Minimum wage is bad because it artificially inflates the price of labor. It makes it so that people who are not worth paying it are unemployed, people like teenagers. The real minimum wage is 0, because that is what you are paid if you're not working.

I'm sure I missed some obvious problems with this, so comment on what you think.

For Gene Wilder

This is the shortest of my poems. It is not a take on any poem but simply an poem about thoughts provoked when I listen to the song “Pure Imagination”, a song, which I believe, harnesses an absurd whimsicality just like the poem “In Just-“ by e.e. cummings. Except, unlike the song and e.e. cummings poem, my poem takes a darker root, examining humanity in a critical, dark, maybe comical way.

For Gene Wilder

With a face covered in tar

You can’t fly your glider anywhere

And I see now why the same goes for

Being dosed in ink

And for having squid thrown at your face

And for the birth of babies.

And lame people aren’t stupid people

But it’s hard

Not to believe that mental doesn’t

= physical (always)

You just have to enter that state,

The one that can

Jokingly be called Buddhism,

And it’s all a soft blur and

Spray is what I want to believe

But people are hanging all dead and

All sick now

And open mouth = (not

Always but sometimes)

A sick

Winner in death.

Giant Steps, Lazy Bird

The poem “The Learn’d Astronomer by Walt Whitman is a poem about believing in science or believing in what you think. I wanted to write a poem like this so I wrote this poem. It is about humanity being unable to think deeper into itself and discover the beauty of its dangerous places. We’re taught not to go to these places. Why not? There may be beauty there. The title comes from the title of two songs by John Coltrane

Giant Steps, Lazy Bird

We need to learn,

All the people,

And all of you sad bricks,

To smile

And we’re sick with leaves in our hair,

Drunk and upside down on heaven. The

Sick street folk knead and knead at their toes.

The one man who was blue in the face THEN

Has died and eagles mark his grave with sparse

Defecation. All hail all! All the street men scream

And the buckets they cackle are raw with sewage and

Their sun caked

Lips clamp and smash.

“We’re all mighty!” one of the

3

Fat Ones says.

And the Fat Ones #2 says it!

“We must be ‘ll mighty!”

“Boys be stupid and quick the world is

A dead plant” “Holla!”

And the Lazy Bird hollers.

His records are smashed and

Folklore. Beckoning him,

Street

People,

Sick Minstrel with his tongue tied and

His fingers dead from one or 7,0000

0000 clicks at the keys.

Your troll beauty is pitching her

Tent in the soup kitchen slums

And her troll feet, dear god! we

Perish in sixteenths like the gallows.

And her troll feet, sick stringly strange

Killing in thirty-seconds the Napoleonic

Gallows, the giant steps!

Tambourine Men

This poem is based on “Fire and Ice” by Robert Frost. When I read “Fire and Ice” I thought of it as kind of a poem about the destruction of a utopia, how they utopia dies and for what reasons. So I wrote a poem about a collapsing utopia and its inability to see what is really important. Kind of like the humanity in “Fire and Ice”

Tambourine Men

Hey,

The clanging man swishes

Through the abandoned Ballroom

Full of thesauri and Sugar Mountains

And latex-headed strangers who can’t tap

Dance

The stiff-toed folk look silly

In the Vietnamese arbor and

They swat each other with

Racquet Ball Racquets

And one

Poor clown-boy achieves a

Sweet black eye.

So now you can’t see, clown boy.

And your not tired, clown boy.

And the night-lights are gone

And the goblins and the disgusting

Tumoral

God- Dogs

Are lost in their God-

Dog fantasies. Soaked

In rust water and corn.

The whole field has been attacked by aliens

And goat-footed “philosopher-kings”

—Can’t learn

To play the piccolo.

All games are lost in the rotting

Gingko branches. The chauvinist villages

Are thick in the bleeding lip.

In the jungle

The

Lion

Has learned to feed on

The children’s skin. And

All is an awkward, bluish silence now.

“We’re done.”

And the villagers pull off their horned-

Rimmed glasses and think of longs lists of words

They had memorized in the thesauri:

dacnomania

fagin

macon

radappertization

waldflute.

And the horned-rimmed adult-parents

Learn that none of these words will

Rescue their forsaken children the excitable children.

All lost now.

Gone is their wall ball. Gone is their

Somalian Piracies

Dreams and Reality

The wicked witch of the west

Stole my breath

Bottled up, locked away, no daylight

No more breath, I thought it right

My delight

To dance to the ocean, I plunged my head

Cold shiver, dry hair as I sit in bed

All this noise, all is seen in my dreams

In my dreams

To live in another world, a lovely sin

My day ends when I drink of this tin

                                                                the bitterest coffee one would know

Pushing away my reality, Fucking my Flow.

You may see but this world is not seen

In my dreams, in my Dreams