the deleted text @the-stonerpoet - Tumblr Blog

streetmorrisart

Comic-Con Art Show: Robin Street-Morris

Art description: I make nature-inspired, mixed media paintings using archival materials.

Bio: I’m a professional visual artist and amateur naturalist living in San Diego, California.

Please visit StreetMorrisArt.com to inquire about original art and purchase prints.

Thanks for supporting living artists.

art

Don’t forget—the @comicconathome Art Show features dozens and dozens of artists, craftspeople, jewelers, and more. Be sure to check it out!

100 miles to home.

You cannot burn hunger on funeral pyre.

You cannot bury empty stomachs in a grave yard.

They won’t realise how life is hard,

Just gonna brand with the name of a victim card.

Our calls for a better change they will not heed.

Coz they stocked in their AC rooms with belly full of mead.

And if all your politicians had the to go hungry for a single night,

Trust me that day won’t see the sunlight.

The sweat of the poor have washed away the sin,

A grand design to cure the shortcomings of your ‘Achche Din’

But we’re all just subs sitting on a bench

Complacent coz dead bodies can’t sniff that stench.

Are we all gonna let this pass!?

Unheard like dew drop on a blade of grass.

But the winds won’t forget

The soil will remember,

the hands that toiled the land.

To make it fresh.

So until this version of a fascist Hindustan exists,

If not me there’ll always be another Khan that resists,

Until there is only an ounce of dissent in this failing democracy,

There will be voices new and old calling out the fallacy.

Until that chakra on my flag spins,

This tricolour won’t let you have your singular sin.

So I call you once again to step down from a cloud of indifference.

You gotta be really high,

To see em walk to home a 100 miles

And still die with innocence.

There’s blood on our hands too my friends.

While poor keep dying,

Check your privilege that’s keeps you surviving.

Altered States or the State at the Altar!

We're decaying multicolored fungii in an interstellar dream.

The reality will melt in front of us,

And we may not do anything as much as slurping ice creams dripping down our hands.

It's a colourful world but why do we see black and white?

It's one small beep at a time until the clarinets of the red one sweep around your feet like snakes going to towards a blackhope an endless void of all the regrets of this world turned into the tar that paves these roads.

There's nothing but a total reset for this.

We're just finding the person worthy to press the button.

One miserable personality fathers a thousand twisted bent out of shape tumours in a muscle and fat tissue lined conveyor belt.

Why does it have to be on the conscious mind of one individual to have these thoughts sold off in the black market of thoughts.

Everything is bought and sold in this sakura sunrise of a life that leads you only to a volcano that's active endlessly.

Ashen Gray!

Its all ash and grey!

One step closer to becoming mush not different from the dirt we walk on.

I have seen it with these eyes.

There's nothing but maggots in the ground. Everything decays.

We're endlessly celebrating our permeating decay. Try and dry your tears if you have to today.

A small gift what you can cherish right now is what you are at this point.

That is the absolute truth.

Everything else is your perception of truth that you will never fully witness as it was for the bearer of the event.

Why do we squabble endlessly to become maggot fodder.

I can only hope a flower blooms from my body when I am decomposed to manure.

That flower shall go from a fair lady's hands into the mouths of the corruption and a fair sunflower turn into poison ivy for their souls.

Do we really live off one another for convenience or do we need a society to exist?

Can we exist in an altered state?

Would you want to be uploaded to a cloud rather than being burried in the ground?

Either the flower that blooms from the maggot shit. Or the endlessly conversion of 00s and 1s that will eventually end up in a cosmic junk for a distant race in time will use for Sunday tea time light reading!

O doses of nostalgia from millennia long gone while I enjoyy space age colourless lemon tart!

I want someone to hold me like the pie crust holds the cherries inside.

That is all I want.

A dessert dream.

Revolution will peak and die.

It will create the generation of stragglers.

The worst entitled beings our race has ever seen. But before that will be peace and near utopia. Until we turn lazy again.

Our minds can function at its peak only in distress. A conducive environment will never push for change and thus hamper the progress. And the species must progress. The archaic traditions will be sacrificed on altars of madness. And from the same embers will ignite a newer more heretic supreme. It's an endless cycle.

Of decay and Bloom.

The feilds are not the one of material but today also of the wave we transmit with each click of a button. Digital dust. For someone to sift through or not.

Why?

Why!

Why must we exist in this state of turmoil if we can have digital bliss. Replace memories with genetically modified doses of fabricated realities. That's the narcotic of the future. Being taken back to the happy place were there is nothing impure only you and that memory detached from all the earthly bounds. Did we take a stroll down the starlight boulevard to get my fix of nostalgia pump down my veiins or needle dropped on the eyeballs to change the entire fabric of what you know and believe. But only in that moment it's real.

It's your reality.

Now that's a drug people have always been addicted to.

#arbaaz khan #Prose #psycedelic #altered states

architectureandfilmblog

Lota Macedo Soares House, Lota Macedo Soares, Brasil, 1953

REACHING FOR THE MOON (2014)

This nicely-shot biopic of Brazilian architect Lota de Macedo Soares is unremarkable cinematically, but it does provide us with a beautiful virtual escape to her buildings, and their garden setting. It’s also based on an interesting true story - that of her relationship with Pulitzer-winning poet Elizabeth Bishop.

danismm

Starky house, Duluth, Minnesota 1955. Arch. Marcel Breuer.

texnh

Ralph Erskine – Villa Engström

1956, Sorunda (SE)

via #1, #2

dtart-comics-deactivated2025110

Meant to post this the other day. Cannot wait for season 2.

kropotkindersurprise

October 28, 2019 - A protester in Santiago, Chile, cuts the cables of a CCTV camera. When she realises she cant easily get back down her comrades on the ground team up to catch her. [video]

finearchitecture

The GreenHouse by @karina_wiciak @wamhouse #finearchitecture #fineinteriors #interiorsmagazine #interiors #interiordesign #architecture #decoration #interior #loft #design #architecturephotography #luxury #homedecor #art #decor #inspiration #blogger #photooftheday #lifestyle #travel #archilovers #photography #arte #interiordecorating #furniture #mansion #home #house https://www.instagram.com/p/B248TQ3BUfl/?igshid=f6qv3u7k5i1g