Monday, August 31, 2009

The Sidewalk Painter

it's a labor of love but mostly for the sake of my own sanity. the picture starts in my head, though sometimes i have to try to make it out when it's done...i'm dreaming of butterflies and screaming in pain, painting a blue sky in the pouring rain, can i talk to you? will you stop and listen to me? i'm not done yet... i love you. do you want to know my name? i know you would love me if you could see beyond my frame. please don't walk on by, give me just a moment of your time. can you hear me over the ticking of the clock? can you see your reflection in the the canvas? try to make it out through the shadows... the picture starts in your head. it's mostly for the sake of your own sanity... it's a labor of love...and it's not done yet.

Bordertown Riff-Raff

He's just your average bordertown riff-raff thumbed a ride out of El Paso, crossed that line in the desert sand, headed south where the cocaine grows. Running from child-support, bills and rent, speaking broken spanish with a southern accent, searching for a place to rest his bones. Met a senorita so young and full of life who over a margarita he asked to be his wife, and they settled down and made themselves a home. But there wasn't enough Tequila in all of Mexico to satisfy the thirst of his dry and thirsty soul, and once again the drifter began to roam.

Let there be Art.

My creation is an expression of the contents of my soul. For inspiration so that you may explore the depths of your own and find me...and find your self realizing that we are one. One with all that is...Make Love. Don't hesitate to re-create your interpretation of my creation. Read between the lines and express what you see as the Spirit gives you utterance. Let there be Art!

Crumbling Castle

You say you're gonna rumble, you think you're standing tall...Your castle's gonna crumble. Your kingdoms' gonna fall.
You're collecting money from everyone you meet, you think you're gonna rule, sit in the judgment seat. You're building up your kingdom, storing all your wealth, peddling salvation ,drawing followers to your self. Fighting tooth and nail, preaching in the street, you say "God" is your Father but you bow at Satan's feet. Are you serving God or money? Do you curse or bless the poor? When a prophet knocks, do you close your ears and lock your door? You use God's name in vain. You set your throne above, consumed with greed and power while proclaiming "peace" and "love".
You say you're gonna rumble, you think you're standing tall...Your castle's gonna crumble. Your kingdom's gonna fall.
The temple's that you've built will soon be turned to dust, not one stone left unturned, consumed by moths and rust. The remnant will be called forth, united by the sound, the vine will wrap around the pillars and tear your kingdom down. The grass grows through the cracks, turning mortar into dust, the earth will swallow you, your graven images will bust. You heed the call of nations but ignore your brethren at your door, you set up markets in your tabernacles and exploit and use the poor. Looking to the sky you claim to hear the call, you prophesy a lie but a hard rain's gonna fall.
You say you're gonna rumble, you think you're standing tall...Your castle's gonna crumble. Your kingdom's gonna fall.
You've turned a house of prayer into a den of thieves, you're blinded by hypocrisy and you're spreading your disease. You talk about "Redemption" and then speak of "holy" war, if "God" is on your side then what are you fighting for? Beat your swords into plowshares and maybe then you will bear fruit, the branches have taken arms and cut the vine off at the root. You say you're filled with "the spirit" yet defend an unjust war, i think you're filled with something else and it's evil to the core.
You say you're gonna rumble, you think you're standing tall...Your castle's gonna crumble. Your kingdom's gonna fall.
You call good what is evil and evil what is good...rejected those you can't control and brain-washed those you could. Repent you false shepherds those who rule with an iron rod, humble yourselves before the Lord or face the wrath of God. God lives in his people, Love will reign supreme. The curtain you have woven will be ripped from seam to seam.

Equinox

...and we sang listless melodies devoid of the inconvenient infra-stuctures of reason or ryme under the star-lit heavens. Our audience was the man in the moon and the coyotes joined in on the chorus as the big dipper poured out the benevolent blessings of springtime, annointing our heads with the nightly dew, baptising us with salvation from the icey pangs of winter stored in our bones... consumed with joyful reveries of times to come. Brighter days are here at last, in the moment the past didn't matter and the future was a far away illusion the thought of which was proposterous and surreal...a gentle breeze blew ruffling our hair and fluttering our hearts, quickening the Spirit, sending gyrations to the cerebrum as we ascended into the medula, transcending the world of suffering, surrendering into the sweet abyss of nothingness...and time flew out of the window and into the street and was trampled by a million marching man-eating manatees flying in V-formation to the west, chasing the setting sun which rose simultaneously in the underworld illuminating the sunken temple of Atlantis, peeping thru the pillars of the ruins...and we followed the procession of the moon across the sky being pulled by a cherub with a rope tied around his ankle, forever banished by the gods to drag his ball and chain...As we gaze in wonder another fallen angel shoots across the sky.