Final filing on writ, hearing January 3; now it's back to work on the novel

 

poem

 (untitled)

I suppose if true

that I shall never

kiss you head to toe,

it would be pleasant

and enough to know

I’ve done right by you—

just a fellow being attempting

to leave behind

some understanding

where before was none;

to pluck joy, great or small,

from the landscapes and mists

of what might have been,

is to fortify reasons to live.

Though words of my past

may have missed the mark

in calling out through the dark,

I live on the hope

you’ll hear me once more;

source of inspiration, muse.

song lyrics

 I'm an alligator

I'm a mama-papa comin' for you
I'm the space invader
I'll be a rock 'n' rollin' bitch for you
Keep your mouth shut
You're squawking like a pink monkey bird
And I'm bustin' up my brains for the words

Keep your 'lectric eye on me, babe
Put your ray gun to my head
Press your space face close to mine, love
Freak out in a moonage daydream, oh yeah!

Don't fake it baby, lay the real thing on me
The church of man, love
Is such a holy place to be
Make me baby, make me know you really care
Make me jump into the air

Keep your 'lectric eye on me, babe
Put your ray gun to my head
Press your space face close to mine, love
Freak out in a moonage daydream, oh yeah!

Keep your 'lectric eye on me, babe
Put your ray gun to my head
Press your space face close to mine, love
Freak out in a moonage daydream, oh yeah!

Keep your 'lectric eye on me, babe
Put your ray gun to my head
Press your space face close to mine, love
Freak out in a moonage daydream, oh yeah!

Freak out, far out, in out

28x36" oil paint mono print

Song lyrics

When are you gonna come down?

When are you going to land?
I should have stayed on the farm
I should have listened to my old man

You know you can't hold me forever
I didn't sign up with you
I'm not a present for your friends to open
This boy's too young to be singing
The blues, ah, ah

So goodbye yellow brick road
Where the dogs of society howl
You can't plant me in your penthouse
I'm going back to my plough

Back to the howling old owl in the woods
Hunting the horny back toad
Oh, I've finally decided my future lies
Beyond the yellow brick road
Ah, ah

What do you think you'll do then?
I bet they'll shoot down the plane
It'll take you a couple of vodka and tonics
To set you on your feet again

Maybe you'll get a replacement
There's plenty like me to be found
Mongrels who ain't got a penny
Sniffing for tidbits like you
On the ground, ah, ah

So goodbye yellow brick road
Where the dogs of society howl
You can't plant me in your penthouse
I'm going back to my plough

Back to the howling old owl in the woods
Hunting the horny back toad
Oh, I've finally decided my future lies
Beyond the yellow brick road
Ah, ah

poem

 (untitled)

Ever had a dream

with a tiger in it?

I just had my second one,

tons and tons

of years apart;

playing with

a power

that can end in

a second.

18 x 36" oil paint