5 thoughts in black and white

As if there were even a question...


My motivations were not purely athletic...


We all have needs...


Rudolf Nuryev...


and Resurrection of my true self.

Photos from the party i went to in Gumdrop Land

Fuck your goddamn cheeseburger... smart ass pop art from Ron English.

http://www.popaganda.com/

Random Image from the Toledo Glass Pavilion

VITRANA, Dominick Labino (1969)

"Composed of 33 cast panels and weighing approximately 1,000 pounds, Dominick Labino’s glass mural was designed and executed especially for the Toledo Museum of Art in 1969. In 1965 Labino retired as Vice-President and Director of Research at Toledo’s Johns-Mansville Fiber Glass, Inc. to pursue a second career as a studio glass artist. He contributed his valuable technical know-how to the 1962 Toledo Workshops, which spurred interest in glass as an artistic medium, helping to introduce and de-mystify this difficult material to many artists.

Labino brought his expertise as a technician to his glass art, using chemistry to experiment with color. To make Vitrana, Labino cast molten glass into rectangular molds, inlaying different colors of glass free hand during the casting process to achieve the unique effects of each panel."

- http://www.toledomuseum.org/Collection/Vitrana.htm

TOLEDO MUSEUM OF ART - GLASS PAVILION

The Batshit Psych Hieronymus Boesch Awful Crying of the Lambs Brilliance of TIMO VAITTINEN

TIMO VAITTENEN, based in Helsinki, Finland
http://www.timovaittinen.net/


"no youre right this shit is too dark to be an Animal Collective song. its like fucking crazy and dark... it's 'Skeleton' from Abe Vigoda's, Skeleton!"


"can we please have 1 fucking party where he doesnt do this shit?!"


"i know you hate it when people compare artists like this mom, but srsly this is the Boeschiest shit i've seen in a long time!"


"randy was all like, 'dude, when did EPCOT get zombified?'"


"built like a tank yet hard to hit, ice cube and eazy-e cold runnin shit!"

To see more of Timo's paintings, click HERE!

Cephalopodantism

How Precious... oh its supposed to be art?

When i get bored at some education conference or at work on some empty Saturday without visitors...well, my paper dolls.


BIBLE BEAR - He wuv you!


DEAD BLACK BUNNY - He hates you. It's alright, he hates everyone.


HELLKATZ - He's taking all you fuckers with him!


SUPERCILIOUS CAT - You're really not worth his time.


MR. TIGER - Look, he's too sweet to be vicious, but don't tell him... okay?

One More From Robert Sherer

Daddy's Little Fascist

http://www.robertsherer.com/

From the Makers of Decaying Squirrel

poem you and i

1

you know how
when you get a new hair cut
after letting it grow long
you overshoot the mark
with your comb
and scrape
the tops
the backs of your ears?
that little pain
reminds you that you've changed.

2 and 3

I don't have the courage to write more than this.

or

maybe I erased it




poem a16-09

i dont mean to confuse you
this isnt a poem actually
a memo to my best friend
i have to let you be dead now
i told myself
that there had to be a limit
to how long i would hold on to your
empty
silky skin
and suck the left over salts
well
now is the time i think
to give it up
you're dead
bye



poem general feelings about space

if it gets out of my head
its gone forever
its more important than me or you
or the cat or my dad
or my job
my life
i live on it like a flea lives on a planet

i was listening to the music of

toads screaming fear from a swamp
a chicken gutting an earthworm in a field
with patafores
your dead babies in still in the womb

the music
repetition
ascending patterns of
rhythm guitars massive drum kits vibraphones
building upon

100
1 000
10 000
1 000 000
1 000 000 000

(its important to read every digit in this case)

life persists as scraggly gray weeds holding on in the cracks of concrete being trodden by 100 feet

i tried to tell you i love you but
i bit my fist and the blood filled my mouth and made me mute
and it filled my skull
with 1000 liquid teeth that
filled my eyes
and constant building pressure
burst from my sockets
onto the floor
with 10 000 ringing keys marbles silver knives

black men have it easy you said

the worst crime you could commit
is being ugly
and loveing someone attractive

said the butterfly

and the toad answered

the worst crime you could commit
is being beautiful
and being disgusted
with the ugly ones who love you

thats why i walked
and i walked
and i walked
and i walked
and i walked
and i walked
(its important to read every line in this case)
not until i was dead but until the
sun's concrete mud
devoid of scraggly gray weeds
turned my feet
my bare solemn feet
into stone
into stone
into stones
that beat the breath from
that could take your spines
1 000 000 spines
your claws teeth unbearable heat
that made a path of of you

until i was ready

the waltzes
the 1 000 000 000 walzes
i loved to dance
to waltz with you
with theodore roethke's father
the happiness that each of the bruises you left
the glee of glancing

blows
oh father

so i finish
my love has drilled its way up your unsuspecting anus
and the liquid teeth
the billion liquid teeth
( i cheat so that i assure failure here)
race their scraping
gnawing
screaming way
up your intestines
to your throat
and burst out of your lungs
out of your throat
like
a last angry
heaving
cold breath

exasperation
nulls
everything

i
am
null
set
void

(cliche but yes so is desperation and self loathing in this kind of setting)

thank you
for not
caring

insert (favorite flavor or home town)

this poem should end with the imagery of pond scum
viscous dull green slime
on the edge of mud goo
that
flies accustomed to shit
would avoid

methane

end scene



images:

robert sherer

1. adam and steve
2. submarine game
3. american martyr
4. fountain of youth

A POST FOR ALEX ROSE

This is not
is not
i repeat for the sake of the
children
deafdumband
blind
hoary eyed and bat faced
children
dead in a pool the vicar's piss
children
what for anyways all we had to eat were
disease
and potatoes
rotten cum soaked tomatoes
flies shitting on our
prim
proper
never ever was a princely prattling
on and on
children
children
children
tell them this is not a

poem

assholes
dusty rusted and what a name for
encrusted with custard
and curried for bluster
you show me
mister
the black hand blisters
and what a mistake the
listless
loose and lettuce like
my tight hands
and oh the dusty rusted assholes
linger on your ashen fingers
so
so
so thats why I'm saying
this is knot
no
knockers
on my children say the darnedest
shit
when you fuck them
with the grit
and sand
and the vicar's willing hand
is not
a

poem

this was just an exercise
please don't
be alarmed
its not art if no one
was harmed

rabbits rags and random shotguns
quiet in the hour
we'll soon
devour

the men that keep you from your sleep
little
baby
ALEX

who's the carrot, then?

3 Imaginary Boys

Redon's Bouddha

Mishima as a youth.

Your humble servant at the age

of 18, showing a Texas Ratsnake

to the Director of SHELL N.A.

After Poetry Snacks