A experimental exploration between special effects make-up, water based paints, and an undying thirst for poetry

 

"My work is dark, unsettling, unnerving. It challenges what we define as "beautiful" and redefines it in my own fascination with darkness."

 

 
"Vincent van Gogh, whose depression, some say, was likely related to temporal lobe epilepsy, famously saw and painted the world in almost unbearably vivid colors. After his nearly unsuccessful attempt to take his life by shooting himself in the gut, when asked why he should not be saved, he famously replied, "the sadness will last forever." I imagine he was right." - Maggie Nelson, "Bluets" pg. 36 . What I wrote after reading Maggie Nelson's "Bluets" . "Why do you paint your face such monstrous things?" He asks her. "Because for a moment in time, I can show the world what the inside of this body feels like. I can show the world how even the villains we hold in us can be beautiful too." She replied. " Because the bad guys have more fun?" He assumed. "Because the bad guys are just the good guys that no one believed in or even tried to listen to" She said. "So you paint to tell the other side of the story we all got? Is that right?" "I paint because not all stories are told one way. Or are even told at all. Some stories are just a brush stroke open for translation. And most times I don't feel like a writer. I just feel like a woman with puddles of colors begging to cover skin."

"Vincent van Gogh, whose depression, some say, was likely related to temporal lobe epilepsy, famously saw and painted the world in almost unbearably vivid colors. After his nearly unsuccessful attempt to take his life by shooting himself in the gut, when asked why he should not be saved, he famously replied, "the sadness will last forever." I imagine he was right." - Maggie Nelson, "Bluets" pg. 36 .

What I wrote after reading Maggie Nelson's "Bluets" .

"Why do you paint your face such monstrous things?" He asks her.
"Because for a moment in time, I can show the world what the inside of this body feels like. I can show the world how even the villains we hold in us can be beautiful too." She replied. "
Because the bad guys have more fun?" He assumed.
"Because the bad guys are just the good guys that no one believed in or even tried to listen to" She said.
"So you paint to tell the other side of the story we all got? Is that right?"
"I paint because not all stories are told one way. Or are even told at all. Some stories are just a brush stroke open for translation. And most times I don't feel like a writer. I just feel like a woman with puddles of colors begging to cover skin."

Call me king maker// Drip me in sweat and watch me shimmer// siren laced in luxury I am/ your Midas touch womyn. [Aren't I worth blood shed of the nameless?] Watch you claw a path to the lavish. "I'll keep you all to myself" Epitome of greed Catalyst for wars My body is what moves man to get his hands dirty to sink fingers first into earth and seek my undying love.  

Call me king maker//
Drip me in sweat and watch me shimmer//
siren laced in luxury I am/
your Midas touch womyn.

[Aren't I worth blood shed of the nameless?]

Watch you claw a path to the lavish.
"I'll keep you all to myself"
Epitome of greed
Catalyst for wars
My body is what moves man to get his hands dirty
to sink fingers first into earth
and seek
my undying love.

 

"The dark side is emotion, Bane. Anger, hate, love, lust. These are what make us strong, Peace is a lie. There is only passion. Your passion is still there, Bane. Seek it out. Reclaim it." - Drew Karpyshyn, Path of Destruction (Star Wars: Darth Bane, #1). We were an Empire before we recognized our own force// We were a death star before we became a gone planet. Peace is a lie. Rage and scream and love and hate and fight and destroy yourself. You are more than half machine. You are painter gone blind. You are a composer gone deaf. You rememberthe power but that power you touch is only memory. Memory is the past. The past is what haunts us. Ghosts must be banished. Lingering on the past is a weakness. Kill that part of you in fury Rise in Passion Reclaim yourself, a composer of silence & screams. a painter of blood and lost dreams. Welcome to the Dark Side.

"The dark side is emotion, Bane. Anger, hate, love, lust. These are what make us strong, Peace is a lie. There is only passion. Your passion is still there, Bane. Seek it out. Reclaim it." - Drew Karpyshyn, Path of Destruction (Star Wars: Darth Bane, #1).

We were an Empire before
we recognized our own force//
We were a death star before we became a gone planet.
Peace is a lie.
Rage
and
scream
and
love
and
hate
and
fight
and
destroy yourself.
You are more than half machine.
You are painter gone blind.
You are a composer gone deaf.
You rememberthe power
but that power you touch is only memory.
Memory is the past.
The past is what haunts us.
Ghosts must be banished.
Lingering on the past is a weakness.
Kill that part of you in fury
Rise in Passion
Reclaim yourself,
a composer of silence & screams.
a painter of blood and lost dreams.
Welcome to the Dark Side.

[i'll serve you all the fruits of my labor] Mouth full of cynanide/ I sowed Johnny's body in a garden row/ Buried him a seed/ I did the same to Adam, blaming Eden's sorrows on Eve/ Conjure me the lump in his throat/ Put you to sleep/ Snow White/ I'll be your seven-- Deadly sins, Hold your breath Come darling, Take a bite out of me. .

[i'll serve you all the fruits of my labor]

Mouth full of cynanide/
I sowed Johnny's body in a garden row/
Buried him a seed/
I did the same to Adam, blaming Eden's sorrows on Eve/
Conjure me the lump in his throat/
Put you to sleep/ Snow White/ I'll be your seven-- Deadly sins,
Hold your breath
Come darling,
Take a bite out of me. .

And as the words began incinerating beneath flesh stories unraveled blood tissue Muscle memory// Clavicle lullaby fold this body a paper crane a thousand wished poems \\What a blessing and curse it is to be a poet\\ The constant itch of lines crawling under skin Walking cadaver of things unsaid the open wound begs, "Finish this line..."

And as the words began incinerating beneath flesh stories unraveled blood tissue Muscle memory// Clavicle lullaby fold this body a paper crane a thousand wished poems \\What a blessing and curse it is to be a poet\\ The constant itch of lines crawling under skin Walking cadaver of things unsaid the open wound begs,

"Finish this line..."

Sometimes we --blind-- ourselves from our true potential.

Sometimes we
--blind--
ourselves
from
our
true
potential.

An experimental series of gold continued: What once protected us, now kills us\\ The history of the Venetian carnival raven mask is rooted in the 14th century when the plague ravaged Europe. The earliest historical textual evidence comes from Chief physician to Louis XIII, Charles de Lorme who created the mask as part of a 17th century Biohazard suit. He believed the mask he created would work as a filtration device that would prevent infection. Today, the plague mask lives on in the imaginations of artists, writers and film-makers. Through them, it has veeb transformed into something altogether different, for the plague mask which was once used to ward off death, has now become the very symbol of it. // I've been thinking a lot about gold lately. About currency. About money and how much man is moved by it. How much it boils down to sacrifice and sweat and bleeding knuckles. How many hours man will go to provide for family, how providing equates to how much you earn. How this gold once protected us. Gave a shelter, food and pockets that shimmer. But when does greed sprout the thorn that pricks the blistered hands? Capitalism a plague of "never enough" and man sick off his own Midas touch.

An experimental series of gold continued:
What once protected us, now kills us\\

The history of the Venetian carnival raven mask is rooted in the 14th century when the plague ravaged Europe. The earliest historical textual evidence comes from Chief physician to Louis XIII, Charles de Lorme who created the mask as part of a 17th century Biohazard suit. He believed the mask he created would work as a filtration device that would prevent infection. Today, the plague mask lives on in the imaginations of artists, writers and film-makers. Through them, it has veeb transformed into something altogether different, for the plague mask which was once used to ward off death, has now become the very symbol of it. //
I've been thinking a lot about gold lately. About currency. About money and how much man is moved by it. How much it boils down to sacrifice and sweat and bleeding knuckles. How many hours man will go to provide for family, how providing equates to how much you earn. How this gold once protected us. Gave a shelter, food and pockets that shimmer. But when does greed sprout the thorn that pricks the blistered hands? Capitalism a plague of "never enough" and man sick off his own Midas touch.

When your mouth is a serpent, men start to warn their brothers about Queen's like you. Descendant of lilth, Daughter of no god, Sister of sirens, Swallower of worlds. They don't know any better but to fear your words like venom. Little boys grow up imagining staples around lips and fangs, Rather have you soft and silent. Let them dream, Because make no mistake, You, womyn Know what it takes To bring a man's souls back from Heaven's gate

When your mouth is a serpent,
men start to warn their brothers
about Queen's like you.
Descendant of lilth,
Daughter of no god,
Sister of sirens,
Swallower of worlds.
They don't know any better
but to fear your words like venom.
Little boys
grow up
imagining staples around lips and fangs,
Rather have you soft and silent.
Let
them
dream,
Because make no mistake,
You, womyn
Know what it takes
To bring a man's souls
back
from Heaven's gate

[What is dead may never die] Womyn like me are born a eulogy// From birth man tried to bury us: In fear. Trembling cold sweat organs How much universe tilts in our wombs. He will never understand power as pulling worlds from body. How many of us bear a crown curated of our mother's mother's tongue. All steel and salt and smothered in absinthe All silver melted over memory. We are a walking resurrection. Do not bow down. Kneel// On blistering knees With clasping limp hands. It is too late to worship me. Instead Ask for forgiveness that I not haunt you while still breathing as prayer.  

[What is dead may never die]

Womyn like me are born a eulogy//
From birth man tried to bury us: In fear.
Trembling cold sweat organs
How much universe tilts in our wombs.
He will never understand power as pulling worlds from body.
How many of us bear a crown curated of our mother's mother's tongue.
All steel and salt and smothered in absinthe
All silver melted over memory.
We are a walking resurrection.
Do not bow down.
Kneel// On blistering knees
With clasping limp hands.
It is too late to worship me. Instead
Ask for forgiveness
that I not haunt you
while still breathing
as prayer.
 

"It's an awful truth that suffering can deepen us, give a greater lustre to our colours, a richer resonance to our words. That is, if it doesn't destroy us, if it doesn't burn away the optimism and the spirit, the capacity for visions, and the respect for simple yet indispensable things." Anne Rice, The Queen of the Damned (The Vampire Chronicles, #3) . For all the Queens of the Damned . // I bathe in the blood of my enemies // Enthrone me in chaos Make me queen of this destruction What does not kill me Crowns me immortal Let all the little birds speak I am feasting on crows I am the vulture that clean their dead to the bone Everyone wants to eat But few want to hunt No one taught them When you point your arrows to a predator Do not blink, Do not miss, Do not look her in the eyes Because she will remember curve of your jaw the quiver of your lip the snakes rattling in your eyes She will draw her next bath with your blood

"It's an awful truth that suffering can deepen us, give a greater lustre to our colours, a richer resonance to our words. That is, if it doesn't destroy us, if it doesn't burn away the optimism and the spirit, the capacity for visions, and the respect for simple yet indispensable things." Anne Rice, The Queen of the Damned (The Vampire Chronicles, #3) .

For all the Queens of the Damned .

// I bathe in the blood of my enemies //

Enthrone me in chaos
Make me queen of this destruction
What does not kill me Crowns me immortal
Let all the little birds speak
I am feasting on crows
I am the vulture that clean their dead to the bone
Everyone wants to eat
But few want to hunt
No one taught them
When you point your arrows to a predator
Do not blink,
Do not miss,
Do not look her in the eyes
Because she will remember curve of your jaw the quiver of your lip the snakes rattling in your eyes

She will draw her next bath with your blood

Perhaps the monsters are not creatures Perhaps our hauntings are not apparitions Perhaps this fear does not have fangs Perhaps what we are afraid of most is regret, Perhaps the silence is what crawls on webs, Perhaps missed opportunity is the demon's laugh, Perhaps you should've asked her name when she walked into the dark. Perhaps you stitched lips and forgot your tongue, Perhaps the heart suicide dived leaving a trail, Perhaps black coffee is the summoning spell Perhaps she's a witch like you manifesting elixirs out of crossed in paths mixed in perhaps.

Perhaps the monsters are not creatures
Perhaps our hauntings are not apparitions
Perhaps this fear does not have fangs
Perhaps what we are afraid of most is regret,
Perhaps the silence is what crawls on webs,
Perhaps missed opportunity is the demon's laugh,
Perhaps you should've asked her name when she walked into the dark. Perhaps you stitched lips and forgot your tongue,
Perhaps the heart suicide dived leaving a trail,
Perhaps black coffee is the summoning spell
Perhaps she's a witch like you manifesting elixirs out of crossed in paths mixed in perhaps.

Serving cold hearted bitch realness / Ice Queen / Cold Shoulder/ DIY crown.

Serving cold hearted bitch realness / Ice Queen / Cold Shoulder/ DIY crown.

[Steam Punk Cat Pirate] \\ Drop the anchor. We have arrived my friend to a land of the strange and abnormal.// where the sky is below, and sea is above//where the sword fish cut my thought patterns o/f/f/ where I walk on cloud 9. Here we are, darling. Where our insides shimmer gold where we bleed sun rays and float on hope I think you'll like it here.

[Steam Punk Cat Pirate]

\\
Drop the anchor.
We have arrived my
friend to a land of
the strange and
abnormal.//
where the sky is below,
and sea is
above//where
the sword fish cut
my thought patterns
o/f/f/
where I
walk on cloud 9.
Here we are, darling.
Where our insides
shimmer gold where
we bleed sun
rays and float
on hope I
think you'll like it
here.