Grooved Pavement

a cool bright sun rising over my home… glittering diamond cutter rays sparkling dancing pitching… untie my brain, clean my soul

[silent-poetry-deactivated202211]

Maya Fidawi

[raychleadele]

So there’s this artist, Alex Schaefer, who makes a bunch of paintings of Chase Bank burning.

There’s just

so many of these

and I think it’s incredibly funny but

I just read this bit from the artist and

This is a "plein air" painting which means I set up my easel right across the street of this Chase bank in my city and painted it like it had caught fire. The police questioned me on the spot. Three weeks later Homeland Security was knocking on the door to my home. The question they kept asking me was "Do you hate these banks?" I can honestly say yes.

And I just think this is the greatest artist statement I’ve ever read.

[arte-artem-artibus]

Yayoi Kusama - Eyes Flying in the Sky, 2006, screenprint, 76 x 56 cm 

Artsy

[zielshindo]

for illustration class

i had so much fun drawing and coloring this one

[slomedico]

Tianjin Binhai Library in Tianjin, China

[clueless-cutie]

[theegoist]

Hsiao Chin (Chinese, b.1935) - La vortice cosmica-88, ink and acrylic on paper mounted on board, 142.00 x 77.00 cm (2002)

[somnium13-deactivated20191213]

Tarot Reading Cat Illustrated by B. Kliban

[thecept]

[mijikowaffle]

わびさびのゴン 2018.6.21

[saminthesoutheast]

[artsytoad]

Virgil Finlay, Earth’s Last Citadel

[groovedpavement]

Warehouse Nights - a poem by Kneesocks Mcgee

We swore on the future there in deep neon darkness pulsed an all-encompassing passion… the light of god, the beating heart. The simplest bohemian rhapsody… writing it down seems mundane in the twilight- the suns descent day becomes night far from the distance of today pure love our beings danced sycophants of youthful lust— dull pain… throbbing possibilities an aloof attainable amorous presence confidence pleasure pride obsessive patterns new challenges, new adventures a vein of humanity which typifies mysticism and the cycle of life Of beautiful woman my lust and desire and energies flow vibrant repose—effervescence life is a regiment of musical exploration, intellectual acuity, athletic rigor, and social development. This one woman has thrown off my course as I dream about her my world has begun to reshape itself around the mirror images of intent to which my soul currently speaks. A state of love I may have never before noticed I masturbate in her vedic perfectness and each perfect metaphor shuddering —ideas caressing my skin —her poetry pulses through my insides, vibrates to my surface in the spontaneous combustion of butterfly —a perfect taboo. Sometimes I have to stop and pray. I pray my love is true; yearnings scrape my chest turns the pit of my stomach my heart true to her is the star… If it were not broken into the wide open –Exhaling smoky thunderclouds I get goose bumps This is only eyelash language about my girls attendance in my life the empty moon in her eyes this is me in this constant shifting flashy flesh dream hormonal tendencies caused this searching I searched for a candy coloured pixie with the beautiful face from my dreams The first moment I saw her I swore to discover her world I’ve always carried with me lofty ideals and a somewhat blind devotion Arrogance tranquility has never left me no help financial ruins and personal strife never has the purity of childhood deserted me you cannot take this from us– it is the music that belongs to all man’s souls an energy and vibration which exceeds the morning rush of good coffee the afternoon sugar fix, the evening glass of wine- akin to the pulse of athletics or speed of driving a visceral multi-textured human kinesis how can this belong to me? As I strive to sharpen to surpass to unlock mystery to form a competitive stance in a world that stimulates thus… it is a cartoon the need to understand ourselves is lost for a moment beating heart which so regularly beats with certain irregularity my holy ghost beating heart woven textile of humanity bridging the physical plane the beat of the heart that pumps and shudders and wastes no energy on those for whom there is no give feel the rope burn your knuckles as you slay the inner sanctified beast of burden that caused the epiphany that you now recognize has been true all along that watch and tower.

[fuckyoubaker]

[coeloa]

[hatin]

via weheartit

[silkelectrics-deactivated202109]

Donna Summer