Monday, April 5, 2010

Some of my art

Why?  Oh god only knows why I am daring to make a bigger hoser out of myself, but I am.
Okay, you're getting a taste of my failures now.  And I've failed at everything I have tried my hands at, art, poetry, music, television, plays, films, the only thing I haven't failed at is comedy and that's only cause I haven't tried comedy yet.


This is the one painting I keep getting asked if it's for sale.  No it's not.  It took me a year to do, and I was not smart enough to right down the mix for the skin colour.  There is about 5 different colours in the mix for the dead skin.  I call him   "The Incubus"

This is a poem I wrote last year on March 28th 2009 that was turned into a song for a friend's play.

Somehow I died that night
Covered in memories of forgotten times
he spilled the wine
blacked out on a canvass of a better line
coked out and strangled by his own design

seems he loved me not as much as I loved him
seems he loved me not as much as the powered white lines fine
well I died that night
covered in memories of broken rhymes
locked out of moments that should have been mine

I died that night
burned out and battered like a prized fighter in a caged fight
lord knows I gave and I tried
but I somehow died that night

his vision cleared
but left his eyes bloody and wide
his smoke cleared
but left him sweating like a cop  was tailing him high
his vision cleared
but I had died that night

seems he loved me not as much as I loved him
seems he loved me not as much as the powered white lines
fine
well I died that night
covered in memories of broken rhymes
locked out of moments that should have been mine

I died that night
I died
I died that night
I died
lord knows I gave and I tried
but somehow I died that night



Here's another poem I wrote back in 2001 under the name Harley Lilith Noir   it's called  "Duet"


The partnership is born mist the mass confusion, over screaming the play, playwright, actors
Burning moonlight in their veins, the desire of hot flashes, gel covered lights, 
foot -candle-spot
The dance begins, tone on tone, the microphones combine intertwine a duet of mass reality, 
voices purge their sorrows, mixing-combining-liquid creamed,
Eyes closed throats thrown open, the final notes nothing but a high pitched scream,
The music's over, microphones recharged as the crowd applaud 
clap-whisper-cheer,
Flowers-carnations-roses appear, at their feet, shoes scuffing on their silky petals,
As the partnership dissolves in the nothingness, 
Shadows emptiness embracing the night,
Until the next duet -until the theater is filled once more from wall to wall,
Against locked doors

And the poem that Paula, Buddy #P, and everyone I talked about in this post here that everyone wanted me to either send to the guy or post.  Called "Stolen Moment" Well, I'll post it and if he reads it great if not ...   


Just a stolen moment
A piece of your time
A wordless glance
Maybe I' ll be fine
Your attention I feel the need to seek
Even though I know you are a million miles out of my league
Just a stolen moment
A second of your time
A polite nod
Maybe I' ll be fine
Your attention I feel the need to seek
Even though I know you are a million miles out of my league
What draws me to you I will never truly know
I guess that is part of your charm part of your show
Just a stolen moment
A piece of your time
A silent smile
Maybe I' ll be fine
Your voice the ultimate temptation
Your eyes demonically divine
Just a stolen moment
One half second of your time
It's all I ask as I memorize every fine line your face has to offer
Before you move back into the crowd and continue your day
A glance, a soft smile, a happy wink
I will return your way
To let you know if you ask I will give to you
Just a stolen moment



So there you go.  Pieces of me in all my morbid glamour

4 comments:

Paula said...

awe it's good to cut yourself so short

ardeth blood said...

Pardon my stupidity but huh?

Paula said...

you cut yourself too short on something don't give yourself enough credit

ardeth blood said...

Well what can I say I have a Jim Morrison complex.
And you know, I haven't found my male version of Pamela yet...

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