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More from ~flappability

Another swig of SeedlessClocks

the yawning sky uncoiled its faucets
and sprayed the morning
with tubs of light.

              in styrofoam songs
             children were described as

'pomegranate kernels

perched in puddle-less perfection

without a single bead

of violet blood

Sourceless Stars

With the shivering rooftiles
             sobbing crimson bulbs
             of Christmas-light tears,

The alarm-clock radio
      honked away
                  the morning's mound of fears.

Through sleep-soaked eyes,
I saw snowflakes and raindrops
               holding       hands
         and waving through my window.

They were inviting me in
                                 to the Yearly servings
                                       of casual Kindness
                                                     scrunched together --
                                                           into a Holiday.

Sand Castles were Blossomed

Sand Castles were blossomed --
               by the yellow Children

                         who were sopping-wet
                                                         from the syrupy sun
                                                    and
                                          living in their cakes.

Those two.

They sat together
on the shaking sand --
          watching Children play.

Her heart was coiled
      around his face
      like a cotton scarf
               of gingerbread warmth
                   on a freeze-dried Monday morning.

                   When he looked away,
                   she took the earp

Pooping Poems

Unzip your fists.

A microwaved Moment of wobbly love,
still cloudy, with warmth –
         wiggles in front of your eyes.

         Hurl it in your mouth.
           Let it dissolve
                 til' only crumbs
                        of soggy Memory
                                        is all that's left behind.

         Kick them down your throat.
         Squeeze them through your tunnels
                           until they Plop --
                                  smack-dab into your Heart.

There, they'll remain,

A curdled Life

Milked, poured, boiled, soured, curdled, salted, molded, pressed, bandaged, ripened, sliced and matured. We lay. Bound together by Kirkland Signatureâ-labeled-plastic wrap from head to toe. Surrounded by similar look-alikes, side by side, perching our bottoms on the firm steel racks that COSTCO employees slipped us on.

And that is the only life we've ever known. The life of supposedly inanimate food. The life of Cheese. Milked, cooked and prepared for our final destiny – filling the stomach of a human being. For us that is happiness.

I am cheese. I am cheese. Muenster Cheese to be exact. Muenster Cheese with corduroy-orange edges and yello

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Submitted: April 10, 2007
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Graceby ~flappability

Traditional Art / Paintings / Portraits

_{Grace - January 2007 | acrylic on illustration board 48" x 36" | ~ 20 hours

edit :: 6 / 2 / 07 -- submitted a better photo

Sketchs of a SoulSinger's Grace.

Kind of a... impressionistic/romantic approach to creating a visual manifestation of the agelessness of Jeff Buckley's music. Warm yet spine-chilling in all it's incredible, lyrical and heart-rippling grace.

My regrets are that I didn't do it on a canvas, because the illustration board got all wavy when I put on the acrylic gloss medium so the photograph had a lot of superfluous white spots from the uneven light reflection. I had to photoshop the background a tad to make it retain the sheen and details of the original.

Haha funny how my art teacher stole this by submitting it into some regional highschool art contest, where it won some awards, and is now being judged on the State level.

JEFF BUCKLEY rest forever in peace.

Go listen to GRACE if you haven't already.}