Cowboy Carrion

During the FINAL HOLIDAY BREAK OF MY LIFE (during college, at any rate) I started on a piece that was heavily influenced by Phil Hale. So much so that it is almost a direct tribute to him. Now, this may in fact stymie the chances I have of it getting anywhere in AOI of SOI, but I don't care.
Ahem. Due enthusiasm aside, I am cautiously optimistic about getting this thing up in places. Fact is, anyone within my vicinity has seen this picture, what with me pleading for them to take a look-see. It's oil on canvas board, 26x32"

Phil Hale tribute

Here is what I am presently working on. Hope ya like it!

Sigmund Freud

Would you like to see a piece from my junior year that is still nice enough to go in my portfolio? Of course you would. You have no say, in any case. Sigmund Freud, 8 1/2 x 11, oil on canvas board. Say something about Oedipus Complex, I dare you.

Content

What do I think of my situation?
Girls are half Godsend, half abomination.
Would that it worked, somehow it'ld rhyme
Just with one person, a lover sublime.
But I don't think it will, at least, not for a time,
So until that day, only me is mine.

Imaginary Friend

imaginary character, no wonder i am lost
i took you for a creature that
was real outside my thoughts.

am i thought or thinker?
who placed who into the world?
nonetheless i cannot seek her
and here my plans unfurl.

Zombie Song

If I were a zombie,
I would love your sweet remains.
Stumbling sweetly, calling,
"Blarg, my dear," and, "brains."
You'd have my heart forever
(I wouldn't need it, after all)
Although you'd prolly eat it,
I'd still cherish your human hull.
When the army comes to shoot us,
I'd leap before the guns,
To save the rotted body of my lovely honey buns.
But we're not undead, and I'm happy:
You would not smell so sweet.
Though you'd probably be as bity,
I don't think you'd be as neat.
I think the thing I'd miss the most
If I were a without a soul; a shell,
Would be the fact I'd not get lost
Inside your eye's deep well...

Autumn Fish

Sunlight rests her weary rays.
Warm palms on scaly cheek
Her hands don't often reach so far
Into the cloying deep.

Fall air is flowing water
Clear and sharp and fresh.
Her currents feed my drying lungs
I am the autumn fish.

I flit 'twixt oak tree reef
And evergreen coral stalk
Silly solitary clownfish
Sly fool who's not been caught.

So it begins...

I write poetry. Alot of it. And most of it is not on this site. But I want it to be. So, although I am doing the whole Illustration thing hardcore, the next few (erm, lots of) posts will be mostly poems. And no I am not sorry. Why should I be? I'm writing to myself! For now...

Not windows of the soul or magic orbs or stars in the sky

Your irises are a pretty colored
muscle, flexing to let in light

Your pupil is black and shiny
because of the watery lens
over it. 

Your eyes are just eyes.

Back

I return! I have been, for a lack of better excuses, doing nothing, both at home and here. So sue me. No one is looking at my blog yet anyways, so there. I do amuse myself in the fact that I write so over-arch-ingly to the world, as if I have some huge rabid fan base waiting on my every word. Calm your nerves, my sweet non-existent minions, I have returned and will continue to feed your hungering eyes with paintings and poetry. 

Such a powertrip, this blogging thing is. I feel I can and should blog about absolutely everything. From that db driver on the way to Dayton to the economy to women and their ridiculous habits (which are eclipsed only by men's), it is my right, no, my responsibility to bitch, ride, and ridicule righteously from my internet pedestal. Listen all! For David has SPOKEN!!! ...about canned food. Or who knows. Regardless, here is where the petty becomes the holy, and the blogger bears the cross of stupidity bravely. So don't you worry, countless millions. David is back, and most definitely slightly perturbed.