a storm from within............

the forefront of forgiveness will be forgotten when time heals the salt in wounds, self infliction, sustained nihlistic impulses, a voice of reason in the wind. whispers of violence, pure but not clean, innocent if not acted upon, and then autumn rose from the listless days with a beautiful fury, the likes of which have not been seen in these parts for some time, the story has yet to be written........

coming up.............

not this thursday, but next thursday, the last thursday as far as thursdays go in october, this will be happening, free beer, come see................

ardea herodias..........

from here to there is a few more feet, an extraction from the head of another onto wood, a commission, a fine time had by all, now back to the grindstone..........

honey badger scrawled on a windshield is not art...........

but i am no expert, and for that matter why would anyone care? the trappings of class unrest are peeking around various corners of the country, and who could really be surprised at their arrival? the time has come for a change, although nobody in the narrow focus of the media has any ideas, therefore the protestant ethic will manifest itself in busy young hands and random acts of destruction, even if the "artists" are unaware of their motivations or maybe they are?...........

return of the dragon.........

the dredging of time, act of god interrupted additionally, stools still in woodgrain dream, delerium, lazy eyes breed uncritical mind, soupy slop on the forefront of every night................

longitudinal latitude..........

all washed out but the excitement remains, the newest of the new, credibility, crisp and clear on a sunned sidewalk, work days only remnant is sore hands and scuffed knees, value of time is unquantifiable...........................

true blue is the color............

we have all made our beds, we all make choices and endure the consequences, the comfortable chair of blame, wolf in sheep's suit, boxed in with only a mirror to talk to, the history speaks volumes of constant chatter, escaping into the gray void of subconscious noise lessons....................