THE ZEN OF ANGELIC BEINGS (Art & Micro-Verse Merged)

  This is a series composed of art and what I call micro-verse. I attempt to augment the art through words written spontaneously to match that art. Micro-verse is meant to take you to a deeper place of meaning within the art. If the images and words offensive, just remember that not all art is meant to be cute. Some is meant to make you think and sometimes to even take offense.

He rose in ecstatic release

Summoning the energy of the universe

Laughing

Crying

Whirling like a Dervish

Yesterday he was just another man

Today he is an angel

Today he is immortal

Today he is released

Tomorrow…who knows

GODS OF A PARALLEL DIMENSION (Art & Micro-Verse Merged)

 This is a series composed of art and what I call micro-verse. I attempt to augment the art through words written spontaneously to match that art. Micro-verse is meant to take you to a deeper place of meaning within the art. If the images and words offensive, just remember that not all art is meant to be cute. Some is meant to make you think and sometimes to even take offense.

They say there are parallel dimensions

Then doesn’t it make sense that there would be parallel gods?

They cannot be the same gods

They must have their own beliefs

Their own myths

Their secret gods worshipped in the dead of night

Are we so blind to believe our gods are all there are?

One door to everywhere and a god hiding on every path

TAKE MY HAND (Art & Micro-Verse Merged)

  This is a series composed of art and what I call micro-verse. I attempt to augment the art through words written spontaneously to match that art. Micro-verse is meant to take you to a deeper place of meaning within the art. If the images and words offensive, just remember that not all art is meant to be cute. Some is meant to make you think and sometimes to even take offense.

Faerie child, take my hand

Awake on summers breeze

Float away within my palm

The darkness soon to leave

Evil creatures lose their hold

Monsters all shall flee

Back to where the winters cold

Shall bind with icy freeze

EYE SEE YOU (Art & Micro-Verse Merged)

  This is a series composed of art and what I call micro-verse. I attempt to augment the art through words written spontaneously to match that art. Micro-verse is meant to take you to a deeper place of meaning within the art. If the images and words offensive, just remember that not all art is meant to be cute. Some is meant to make you think and sometimes to even take offense.

My eye is on you
Eye see you when you are strong
Eye see you when you are so tired you cannot stand
Eye see you in the day and in the night
Eye see you when your mind is so fractured that you may never find the real you
Eye see your heart and your soul
Eye see you for who you really are
My eye is on you 

TAKING FLIGHT (Art & Micro-Verse Merged)

  This is a series composed of art and what I call micro-verse. I attempt to augment the art through words written spontaneously to match that art. Micro-verse is meant to take you to a deeper place of meaning within the art. If the images and words offensive, just remember that not all art is meant to be cute. Some is meant to make you think and sometimes to even take offense.

The body is merely a vessel for the soul
No matter what you do to it, the spirit soars
No amount of pain, blood or hell

Your brain is part of that vessel
Ignore what it tells you is happening
Its all illusion
Damage vessels cannot harm the spirit
Cannot harm the real you

THE LONELY DOLL (Art & Micro-Verse Merged)

   This is a series composed of art and what I call micro-verse. I attempt to augment the art through words written spontaneously to match that art. Micro-verse is meant to take you to a deeper place of meaning within the art. If the images and words offensive, just remember that not all art is meant to be cute. Some is meant to make you think and sometimes to even take offense. 

Bird was her only companion

The ghost never came close enough to talk

She moaned occasionally, but only at night

The strange nude fellow by the tree could only clack his teeth

And masturbate

He wasn’t any fun

So it was her and bird and the dripping forest moisture

How could an evil doll do her job?

Sometimes it just didn’t pay to be frightening

THE AUTUMN OF MY LIFE (Art & Micro-Verse Merged)

   This is a series composed of art and what I call micro-verse. I attempt to augment the art through words written spontaneously to match that art. Micro-verse is meant to take you to a deeper place of meaning within the art. If the images and words offensive, just remember that not all art is meant to be cute. Some is meant to make you think and sometimes to even take offense. 

I’m aging

My bones hurt

My hair is almost white

My skin wrinkled

I mourn my youth

I fear my death

I fear my life

Food tastes bad

Water is dry

There is no purpose

I am alone

I am 40

A RED RAIN (Art & Micro-Verse Merged)

   This is a series composed of art and what I call micro-verse. I attempt to augment the art through words written spontaneously to match that art. Micro-verse is meant to take you to a deeper place of meaning within the art. If the images and words offensive, just remember that not all art is meant to be cute. Some is meant to make you think and sometimes to even take offense. 

When the red rain fell from a bloody moon, the world was consumed

We plummeted to the ground our veins drained when the red rain touched us

Like a Christ figure we bled out, our souls leaking into the cold ground below

there was nothing left but a dried husk of what we once were

THE END (Art & Micro-Verse Merged)

   This is a series composed of art and what I call micro-verse. I attempt to augment the art through words written spontaneously to match that art. Micro-verse is meant to take you to a deeper place of meaning within the art. If the images and words offensive, just remember that not all art is meant to be cute. Some is meant to make you think and sometimes to even take offense. 

How close are we to the end of the world?

Is it tomorrow’s midnight or a million daybreaks away?

Do we even care? 

We live in a bubble where such endings have little meaning

One day we are gone, the bubble popped

And that is the day the world ends

ANGELS WE REJECT ON HIGH (Art & Micro-Verse Merged)

   This is a series composed of art and what I call micro-verse. I attempt to augment the art through words written spontaneously to match that art. Micro-verse is meant to take you to a deeper place of meaning within the art. If the images and words offensive, just remember that not all art is meant to be cute. Some is meant to make you think and sometimes to even take offense. 

The archangel Gabriel said 

“You are destroying that which was given thee.

Why do you destroy the forests?

Why do you spoil the water and foul the air?

Why do you crush the life from the creatures of the earth?

You write your own destruction in the book of life. You are nearly on the last page!”

Man heard not the words of the angel and struck the match which would burn down the world

DREAMERS & ARTISTS

 

I have very vivid dreams. It's not unusual for me to live a lifetime within the course of a single dream. It can often be disorienting upon waking, but I've learned to cope.

I think that this is perhaps my greatest asset as a surrealist. It gives me what i call "a clarity of vision" regarding the absurdities which I explore in my art.

I woke at 5am this morning from what I call the "Mega Tomb" dream. I've been there before. It's a massive place. A huge city closed from entry or exit by the people within. There is a whole world inside. People live, work and go about life convinced that they were chosen to represent earth in safety, while those outside are dead.

It's actually quite a nice place. They have all they need to survive and there is a timeless quality to their world.

Of course I'm always locked in with them, just another denizen.

I'm a designer. I build beautiful structures from materials at hand. I'm known for my faerie like buildings and absurd dwellings.

Life goes on within these towering walls. Love, relationships, politics all exist but with an ephemeral twist. It's all quite surreal.

The difference in tonight's dream was that the walls began to shake and the doors to the outer world were about to open once more. I suppose I'll wait to see what's out there. Because as dreams so often do, it ended right at the best part.

So what does the artist do with this dream? I suppose I could plot it out like a movie script. Or I could try to draw what I saw in my time within those walls.

But no. As I've often found with other dreams this just doesn't work. I'll lose myself trying to resurrect the dream and fill in the blanks.

Instead I'll assimilate this dream and let it fall back within my subconscious. And when I least expect it, the dream will suddenly surface within my art, lending a reality to the surrealism that Is part of my life as an artist. 

Do you dream? Do you make those dreams a part of your art? Or like so many do you disregard them as something of no consequence?

I hope not. There are hidden secrets within our dreams. And if we are not here to explore them artistically, then it's a sad loss to ourselves and our fans.

The dreamer has risen, but the dream still remains

HARROWING ON SACRED GROUND (Art & Micro-Verse Merged)

  This is a series composed of art and what I call micro-verse. I attempt to augment the art through words written spontaneously to match that art. Micro-verse is meant to take you to a deeper place of meaning within the art. If the images and words offensive, just remember that not all art is meant to be cute. Some is meant to make you think and sometimes to even take offense. 

We are the damned, the maimed, the conquered, the slain

We are the innocent, the wronged, the lost, the maimed

Our eyes are haunted, our bodies pierced

Our deadly dance gone unrehearsed

What is the value of shattered lives

Coins placed on deadened eyes

There is no value in bodies dead

No tombs to rest our blooded heads

Only the pain of our passing life remains

Mournful cries heard in storm and wind and rain  

VALLEY OF THE DOLLS (Art & Micro-Verse Merged)

  This is a series composed of art and what I call micro-verse. I attempt to augment the art through words written spontaneously to match that art. Micro-verse is meant to take you to a deeper place of meaning within the art. If the images and words offensive, just remember that not all art is meant to be cute. Some is meant to make you think and sometimes to even take offense. 

I was born in a place so small that we knew everyone’s name

I grew up in a place so insulated that we knew nothing of the world beyond

I grew up in a place so uneducated that we had no schools

I grew up in a place so nosey that we had no secrets

I grew up in a place so small that I died before I ever lived

THE DEVIL YOU KNOW (Art & Micro-Verse Merged)

  This is a series composed of art and what I call micro-verse. I attempt to augment the art through words written spontaneously to match that art. Micro-verse is meant to take you to a deeper place of meaning within the art. If the images and words offensive, just remember that not all art is meant to be cute. Some is meant to make you think and sometimes to even take offense. 

It is not a great devil that you must fear, but a thousand tiny devils

The voices of hate who will force you to their religion or philosophy

The looks of contempt and sneers of derision that say your life is not proper or moral

Let no devil take you away from your path

They are already trapped in their own personal hells

THE ETERNAL DANCE OF THE SOUL (Art & Micro-Verse Merged)

 This is a series composed of art and what I call micro-verse. I attempt to augment the art through words written spontaneously to match that art. Micro-verse is meant to take you to a deeper place of meaning within the art. If the images and words offensive, just remember that not all art is meant to be cute. Some is meant to make you think and sometimes to even take offense. 

 While your mortal body may weep

You may commit the worst crimes

And you may think you’re damned for eternity

Your soul dances like a whirling dervish

It spins like a top in eternal bliss.

Nothing you can do in this life can stop the dance

Absolutely nothing can halt the joy of an eternal being sailing through the cosmos

Nothing