tales from the murky splurge

Friday, February 24, 2017

Saw this written on a post on face book and it worried me. tolerating another culture will only dilute your own. thoughts on this please. Sign in to see full entry.

Thursday, February 23, 2017

Necessity calls.

Necessity is the mother of artistic invention. Without pencil paper paint and plight, what is necessary to create, a crying child with hallowed frown upon a mothers holy gown, she lacks a canvas to present, a wall of worthy whitewashed space, meant for gazers wondering where it went. Not created... Sign in to see full entry.

Wednesday, February 22, 2017

The Portrait Artist. The End.

Women, I have painted you before. When was that. When I slept and the fiestas took away my spirit to the time of a past life, when we danced in the square, you in a red dress, my hand firmly at your waist whilst you whispered something strange into my chest, your head buried under your falling wavy... Sign in to see full entry.

Tuesday, February 21, 2017

The portrait artist 5

So You look and lean forward and you see something else, what do you suppose you see? You with an all knowing smile, oh god I see it now, and I should hide behind my ego, sickly and withered, ashamed. the feeling and baring soul is not yours but mine. Sign in to see full entry.

Monday, February 20, 2017

The Portrait Artist 4

I see into the depths of your unconsciousness, my paintbrush limits no boundaries nor no final strokes, it cares for nothing with rules. Relentlessly it paints tones to your shadows and highlights the things you want me to know and desire to reveal. I can paint to the end of your story, the end of... Sign in to see full entry.

The Pirtrait Artist 3.

I look for you as I know you will walk past me and then pause a while wondering if I can produce a likeness. You know that I can so Do not mock my solitude, I am perfectly aware of your tedious thoughts of superiority. Come perch yourself and squint not into the sun, look not at the light It... Sign in to see full entry.

Sunday, February 19, 2017

The portrait artist, contd. 2

i can wait patiently here holding on to the end of my pencil. I care little for time, aware that those who pass have very little of it, less than me. I sit with my blank canvas which waits for you like a bird of prey. I search the crowd of teasing tourists who traipse up the stone steps, their eyes... Sign in to see full entry.

Saturday, February 18, 2017

The portrait Artist...

Do not dare to mock my solitude, I am more than happy to spend my time on this wall, soaking up the sun listening to the sounds of the square. Tranquility waits behind Waitress chatter, which hovers like bees buzzing above the chimes of the bells of the Santa Maria.................tbcontinued Sign in to see full entry.

sleep has forgotten it's way when it held your dream in place sleep has abandoned the breaking of rules and laughed in the face of all that was valued balance believes no more the scales are so sloped and tipped towards tested and crossed out. sleep is no more now on hold and paused hopefully not Sign in to see full entry.

Friday, February 17, 2017

I saw a post on the internet showin a man thumping a woman on a bus. It appeared that he was her husband. It inspired me to write this. Lo que dices Y lo que sientes It matters. What you say And what you feel It matters. I am beauty and you deny me But I have love And you do not. Sign in to see full entry.

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