in / our own / image / we created / our Creator / moulded Him / out of the flesh / and bones / of our dreams
Theogenesis = the birth of a god. Written 7 May 2009. / The companion poem to Deicide
it’s a faith-eat-faith world / and none are spared / hollow bells toll / sepulchral silences / in the once-hallows / of cold halls / where holl…
Deicide = the death of a god. Written 7 May 2009. / The companion poem to Theogenesis
Every believer is an atheist / To every other faith / All those condemned are blameless / In another’s place
A poem about religion and the nature of subjectivity. Written March 4 2009. Featured in Core [C.O.R.E] and Poetry and Beautiful Women.
Thinking; over over and over… / Trying to understand myself, / Asking, asking, asking / The same question; / Everytime, everywhere, every m…
The real thoughts of mine.. I still think, there are many good ones out there…
Your chance to meet Artist Carrie Glenn is at the Astoria Sunday Market on July 27th 2008 from 10-am to 3-pm.
But I feel like she’s ready and willing and she’s not going to play
It has been a long and nearly sleepless week for me… So here’s the art that goes with the poem…
Modern Abstraction Vs Classical Realism and beyond. / The rise of the camera and the effect on realism and abstraction and their re-birth …
Feature
How many thanks can i give to the groups..OUTSIDERS..1 feature, FINKS OF INKS..1 feature…and FANTASTIC PRIMITIVE ART for 3 features…w…
Dead sea life floats on muddy, sizzling waters. / He moves on – horrified.
A chilling look at our world today. Is this how a visitor from another planet would see us??
It was the kind of day that made you want to give up….
an extract from a longer (yet to be completed) story
The world echoed horror today Two towers crashed, and then lightning came.
a poetry in prose about 9-11.
Love exists for idealist / Who live comfortably in their dreams / Too busy with the beauty that surrounds / To test the validity that bounds…
And it is in your solemnity / That the seas go wild
I had been studying a lot of latin writers over the winter when I had written this. I was also chasing a girl I found very captivating.
His luggage fell open releasing an odor of ash into the air. It was proof of his travels; remnants of the bars and coffee table meetings …
A remnant of my trip to Boston a thanksgiving or two ago. I was inspired by the solemnity of traveling on the road and the inescapable smell of cigarette ash on my body as I returned home.
When she felt like she was good and ready / To give her self away for a tryst, a one night stand / She chose him / An unexpecting boy, wear…
This was the first poem I wrote after a long hiatus. After an interesting night, I had nothing but things to say.
He wakes up to a cold bed, in a cold bedroom / It’s the first of November / He sits himself up / He inhales the smell of whiskey, ash, and …
The continuation to the story of “The Meaning of Soul”
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