Dec 11, 2013 / 3 notes

image

She has wings, but can she fly?

{wings}

Rebecca Horn (1972)

someone once told me stick to the middle and then head left but there’s art that needs creating so we’ll put our heads together and we’ll head left.
(so we’ll put our heads together and we’ll head left)
Aug 13, 2013

someone once told me
stick to the middle
and then head left
but there’s art that needs
creating
so we’ll put our heads together
and we’ll head left.

(so we’ll put our heads together and we’ll head left)

When we were children, there was that something that we were innately drawn to and it’s up to us to never loose sight of that. Our uniqueness as individuals is too precious to spend our lives doing that which doesn’t compel us in our core. Our personal contribution to this world is needed and there is no one and no obstacle that should ever stifle that realization.
{don’t quit your day dream}
Aug 5, 2013

When we were children, there was that something that we were innately drawn to and it’s up to us to never loose sight of that. Our uniqueness as individuals is too precious to spend our lives doing that which doesn’t compel us in our core. Our personal contribution to this world is needed and there is no one and no obstacle that should ever stifle that realization.

{don’t quit your day dream}

he sends for her with words unsaid he dresses her in kindness she’s never known and beneath the meltingshe plants his adorationhides it from view collecting its beauty until it becomes her own
{where flowers grow}
Aug 2, 2013

he sends for her
with words unsaid
he dresses her
in kindness
she’s never known
and
beneath the melting
she plants his adoration
hides it from view
collecting its beauty
until it becomes her own

{where flowers grow}

bravery
limbs of stubborn virtue
intertwined
between sheets of blinding wind
between rods planted like feet
made of stone
feet barreling closer to what is destined
feet leaving impressions
impressions that never look back.

(into the wind)

photo found on the w.w.w
Apr 23, 2012 / 2 notes

bravery
limbs of stubborn virtue
intertwined
between sheets of blinding wind
between rods planted like feet
made of stone
feet barreling closer to what is destined
feet leaving impressions
impressions that never look back.

(into the wind)

photo found on the w.w.w

Apr 6, 2012 / 2 notes

There is so much,
so much that goes on in the world
left, right and otherwise.
Writings that make it to the walls,
others to the foundations,
confines of concrete prisms
of imprisonment,
shaking validities between
all we deem necessary,
truths.
Facets of opinions,
depths of realities
floating between
stubbornness,
fears,
love,
death
and all I ask is that you move me,
make me forget
everything I know,
everything I believe
in order to believe you
if even for a moment.

(to we, the music makers)

When life becomes
busy as it may
the time to take
is time spent alone
to render voices their power
and lend inspirations
a helping hand
all while becoming
inspired all the more.

(the sea)

photo by Edouard Boubat
Mar 13, 2012 / 1 note

When life becomes
busy as it may
the time to take
is time spent alone
to render voices their power
and lend inspirations
a helping hand
all while becoming
inspired all the more.

(the sea)

photo by Edouard Boubat

braving unknown inspirations in search of the roads that are less travelled

feet finding the ground nervous, for unexpected truths

heart finding the time ready for something of eloquent ruin, of masterful   artistry, of limitless potential

(to hit the ground running)

photo via jackhilliethethird
Feb 24, 2012 / 2 notes

braving unknown inspirations in search of the roads that are less travelled

feet finding the ground nervous, for unexpected truths

heart finding the time ready for something of eloquent ruin, of masterful artistry, of limitless potential

(to hit the ground running)

photo via jackhilliethethird

Who is she?
Do they know?
Does even she know?
Molds of this, molds of that
she has chosen 
to be what they expect.
She has chosen 
to step away from toes
to paint a smile 
on the front of open wounds 
bleeding the wet of dried blood
all because she is afraid 
of the thoughts 
belonging to the bubble people 
scurrying about 
inside of their velvet-lined boxes
and for what?
She does not know.

{the velvet-lined boxes}

illustration found on the w.w.w
Feb 19, 2012

Who is she?
Do they know?
Does even she know?
Molds of this, molds of that
she has chosen
to be what they expect.
She has chosen
to step away from toes
to paint a smile
on the front of open wounds
bleeding the wet of dried blood
all because she is afraid
of the thoughts
belonging to the bubble people
scurrying about
inside of their velvet-lined boxes
and for what?
She does not know.

{the velvet-lined boxes}

illustration found on the w.w.w

Defying all odds,
with focus to not look back.
Tenacious courage.

(the focus)

sculpture by Matteo Pugliese
photo found on w.w.w
Feb 16, 2012 / 3 notes

Defying all odds,
with focus to not look back.
Tenacious courage.

(the focus)

sculpture by Matteo Pugliese
photo found on w.w.w