lines, letters and life.

{Stand still watching the world go by

Standstill state of mind.

Deadlocked soul in a stirring moment.

Grounded in its dynamism.}

                                 { rlr '12 }

it's been one of those months.

i knew it would come visit me soon. 

Cotton candy wisps of white

They dance beneath me, those cotton candy wisps of white.

laying still on the surface, the feathery streaks;

A galaxy of stars.

Or billowed smoke that sits frozen in time.

As if they could softly catch me if I fell onto their pillowed niche.

-me 

August 2011

self portrait for photo mediations 4.1

It grows on you and makes you want to stay. You become a part of the music of the street.

Music Of The Street

Uptown

Downtown

Eat-you-alive town.

Nothing here is innocent.

Nothing here is really pure.

There's danger around each corner.

Nothing here is stopping, nothing here is slow.

There's never a moment of silence,

There's never a moment alone.

Horns honking,

People talking,

Vendors yelling,

Children laughing.

The city has a beat,

It pounds into your brain.

There's a rhythm to this city, a shuffle that's contagious.

This city's made of music!

It'll stick in your head and never leave.

It's a fantasy.

A daydream.

It grows on you and makes you want to stay.

You become a part of the music of the street.

-Jennifer Lujanac.

Cities the series by Charlie Bearman.
First seen on Illustration Served.

Phenomenal woman, that's me

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.   

                   -Maya Angelou

.sucker for sun spots and sun flares.

 

sunshine beats through glass panes.

red flares dance through the heavy air.

bursts of light explode while shadows dance around.

 eyes close.

traces of light; white circles, dotting the blackness behind my lids .

                                                             the silence, it echoes.

                                          in my mind, in my head.

                                                              

    the light.  it glares.

the heat. it blazes.

a suntrap in my space. 

rlr.'10

           

.love poem.

my mind is a big chunk of irrevocable nothing which touch and taste and smell
and hearing and sight keep hitting and chipping with sharp fatal tools
in an agony of sensual chisels i perform squirms of chrome
and execute strides of cobalt
nevertheless i feel that i cleverly am being altered that i slightly am becoming
something a little different, in fact myself
Hereupon helpless i utter lilac shrieks and scarlet bellowings.

— my mind is… (XXV) by E. E. Cummings

.spoken words.

silver grey moonlight beam…
vivid brightness and spectacular aura…
unexplainable beauty.
definition of calmness.
……eminence of peace.

— RJR ‘03

. a dose of prose .

I am inhabited by a cry.
Nightly it flaps out
Looking, with its hooks, for something to love.
I am terrified by this dark thing
That sleeps in me;
All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.

— Sylvia Plath

. the dancer.

http://www.them-thangs.com/

her feet gently float off the surface of the dancefloor.
music vibrates. it plays through her soul.
she radiates an aura of peace. just watch and see how she illuminates the stage with her rhythm.
see how she grasps the awe in her movement, a silhouette blending into her stage.
the dancer enchants all who are watching into her spell.
she glides. she sways. she dances.

for trish.
10.09.2003