Twisted Poetry
A collection of images from the recesses of my mind.
A collection of images from the recesses of my mind.
I've always had a fascination with dark things, the side of life people don't like talking about.
Death, decay morbidity, always blocked into negative connotations. These things can be used to relay a greater sense of beauty on what we already hold dear though, like a contrast to our ideals.
Death, decay morbidity, always blocked into negative connotations. These things can be used to relay a greater sense of beauty on what we already hold dear though, like a contrast to our ideals.
"My Pet"
~
Oh when will I escape,
This harsh reality,
Every day I wake,
I lose a part of me,
More vegetables then.
~
I consider myself less "on the brightside" as most, being depressive and liking gross things, so this is a bit of a self portrait. The creature is a characterisation of my attributes, though the carrot being dangled is not his typical cuisine.
It's a break from dead meat and rotting things, soul food to mend his outlook before he rots from the inside out.
~
Oh when will I escape,
This harsh reality,
Every day I wake,
I lose a part of me,
More vegetables then.
~
I consider myself less "on the brightside" as most, being depressive and liking gross things, so this is a bit of a self portrait. The creature is a characterisation of my attributes, though the carrot being dangled is not his typical cuisine.
It's a break from dead meat and rotting things, soul food to mend his outlook before he rots from the inside out.
"Chlorophyll Corona"
~
Never dying,
Never crying,
Always searching,
Always birthing.
~
This was made to convey that the powers that be in government as such have lost sight to what is possible in regard to attaining energy from natural sources.
Burning of fossil fuels is the easy way out, earning them extreme profits and poisoning the air we breathe.
Solar, bio-fuel, wind and water energy are more than capable of providing for the whole of mankind, using the elements to our advantage.
~
Never dying,
Never crying,
Always searching,
Always birthing.
~
This was made to convey that the powers that be in government as such have lost sight to what is possible in regard to attaining energy from natural sources.
Burning of fossil fuels is the easy way out, earning them extreme profits and poisoning the air we breathe.
Solar, bio-fuel, wind and water energy are more than capable of providing for the whole of mankind, using the elements to our advantage.
"Shame"
My friend who goes by the alias Dickie Briganza has writ a poem to compliment such a picture:
~
Ever from the void they burst,
Tears of a god,
Of a Mother Earth.
~
Ok here's the gist.
Since our conception as a species, we've found ways of working against the grain of natural selection.
Permanently evading predators, arranging food sources so little effort is required for sustenance, becoming so safe in environments of our own creation that we no longer breed for strength, but rather with immunity to any physical and mental favourability(apparently this is not a real word, but you understand my meaning).
We've become so comfortable that we're allowing defective genes to proliferate into the future without restriction, choosing to cure ailments as they present, instead of dealing with them at the molecular level. There is nothing pruning us for betterment anymore.
We're so lacking in a physical battle for survival that we've industrialised our planet, raping eco-systems for the creation of entertainment, be it in products, or dumping of by-products.
Without us, the planet would only become more stable, the course of all other life spreading as in equilibrium. But the sad fact is, we are a self-made immunisation of our roots, the cure to the virus of life, even at out own peril.
We will always exist, because we are too successful at using resources to our ends.
Our intellect and greed is the only mistake in nature not able to be pruned by natural forces.
Onto the picture.
Mother Nature is depicted on her pedestal, a rock, a sheer force of will.
She was once fat and healthy, birthing life in abundance, but her one mistake was the birth of us, we can see our conception in the womb of the balloon.
It floats with potential and promise, reflecting a world of trees and mountains, but the act of us being borne unto this realm emaciates Mother Nature. She becomes cracked and frail, the world of life reflected in the womb of our making recedes into a barren wasteland of our greed.
The balloon string is an IV tube of bloodflow, showing we are forever tied to her, no matter how far astray our intent and actions may fall from the plan of natural things.
Mother Nature weeps for her sadistic child.
My friend who goes by the alias Dickie Briganza has writ a poem to compliment such a picture:
~
Ever from the void they burst,
Tears of a god,
Of a Mother Earth.
~
Ok here's the gist.
Since our conception as a species, we've found ways of working against the grain of natural selection.
Permanently evading predators, arranging food sources so little effort is required for sustenance, becoming so safe in environments of our own creation that we no longer breed for strength, but rather with immunity to any physical and mental favourability(apparently this is not a real word, but you understand my meaning).
We've become so comfortable that we're allowing defective genes to proliferate into the future without restriction, choosing to cure ailments as they present, instead of dealing with them at the molecular level. There is nothing pruning us for betterment anymore.
We're so lacking in a physical battle for survival that we've industrialised our planet, raping eco-systems for the creation of entertainment, be it in products, or dumping of by-products.
Without us, the planet would only become more stable, the course of all other life spreading as in equilibrium. But the sad fact is, we are a self-made immunisation of our roots, the cure to the virus of life, even at out own peril.
We will always exist, because we are too successful at using resources to our ends.
Our intellect and greed is the only mistake in nature not able to be pruned by natural forces.
Onto the picture.
Mother Nature is depicted on her pedestal, a rock, a sheer force of will.
She was once fat and healthy, birthing life in abundance, but her one mistake was the birth of us, we can see our conception in the womb of the balloon.
It floats with potential and promise, reflecting a world of trees and mountains, but the act of us being borne unto this realm emaciates Mother Nature. She becomes cracked and frail, the world of life reflected in the womb of our making recedes into a barren wasteland of our greed.
The balloon string is an IV tube of bloodflow, showing we are forever tied to her, no matter how far astray our intent and actions may fall from the plan of natural things.
Mother Nature weeps for her sadistic child.
