Creation is something that many have embarked to acheive
My belief is to get out of the way of trying to create while rolling up my sleeve
The next step truly has its own journey, distance yourself from thinking too deep
A great idea or creation could end up as a technique too steep
It looks amazing once I eject myself out of the anomaly's plan
Where do these ideas come from? could it be my mood or my hand
A trust needs to appear for it is all that works in a moment of creation
It will happen once all the elements bind together when it comes into fruition
I'm proud to call myself an artist with multitudes of talents
Whether I'm sad, depressed or just joyfully absent
Infusing tricks that remain tacky or cheesy has no place in my arsenal
Or should I just be and allow without a mehtod that's enforceable
Creation is the process of channelling a wave of discoveries
Marked in crystal birthing of artistic prophesies
They already exist in disjointed pieces
My job is to unearth them and assemble the
Art.
When my ashes are brought home
don’t place them on a mantel
between the tacky Hummel figurines.
Tip them out onto the backyard
to nourish the cabbages.
I am not coming back,
but check the wind once more,
I might blow into the house again
and the dust-buster will clog up.
Do not look for me in the sky,
I am not there,
nor on or under the earth -
please really?
I may appear to you at night
if you lay with another man,
haunt you
if you marry again,
but that’s just me
and my little insecurities.
Also dear, be warned
I still retain the power
to trigger the cat to pee on your bed
if you neglect
to dust my photograph.
Love yer.
When choosing clothes, some people buy
Whatever seems to catch their eye.
They always pay the asking price
No matter what, and don’t think twice.
That isn’t me, for without fail
I’ll check to find out what’s on sale
And if it’s pricey, I might splurge
If on that day, I get the urge.
As far as stores, the upscale shops
Will not be on my frequent stops,
But nor will be a tacky store,
With schlocky clothes you can’t ignore.
I guess I like the middle range
When I decide I need a change,
So when I feel it’s time to go,
I’ll check out clothing stores I know.
Don’t be fooled, they carry
nothing of the Orient’s allure.
These voracious beetles,
if they had the appetite,
might easily bring down
the loftiest sequoia.
Depraved sexual deviants,
they deflower helpless roses
in broad daylight; and, like
Medieval artisans of yore
turn hardy zinnias into
empty-ribbed cathedral windows.
Their shells are hard like
scarabs, but charmless,
slicked with an iridescence
cheap and tacky like carnival glass.
Eager to reproduce their kind,
they feed and copulate
at the same time.
Sex has never lost its need
with any creature on this planet,
least of all these pesky beetles,
so a potent sex attractant does
the job. And even in the heat
of destructive flames, they go
at it mindlessly one last time.
Things don't always have to make sense because no one makes the rules
I can say and do things the way i want because i do what I choose
God has given me free will so who are you to take that away
There is no established rules when it comes to what i do and say
There does exist a right way but i want to take a different route
That's what makes us different from what comes up out of our mouths
What i do may not makes sense to you because that's what makes me, me
No two people are the same so you may not could see what i see
What you find tacky and ugly i might find as a treasure
What you find boring and sad might bring me untold pleasure
No one can dictate or tell another how to be
The one dictating might care a lot while the other one is care free
I'm easily amused and happy and can see a whole lot out of nothing
Just because a person has their ducks in a roll don't mean they actually have something
Maybe i like being weird and i might at times seem dense
But i really don't care that much about everything making sense.
One man’s opulence another
Might consider tacky,
Especially when catered to
By every spineless lackey.
Yet those who rake in riches
As their empire’s being built
Should, if empathy at all exists,
Feel just a little guilt.
So many struggle just to live
While barely getting by;
Still, we hear of millions being spent
By those who rule on high.
A little gilt can be too much
And for a would-be king,
A little guilt, at least, should come
From those who kiss his ring.
.
The nymph's tressez
Tacky
left overs from
this morn'nin'z
tussle 'bout the oak's
fall'n
crisp
her and my
wrestle for top
Suspect
i'm always look'n
up
“When you are not fed love on a silver spoon, you learn to lick it off knives.”
– Lauren Eden
born to the purple
no one to guide or support
love sought cold comfort
in all that surrounds
pushed aside by family
a need for parental touch
assuaged by those captive outsiders paid to placate
thin pitiful whines
yes, born well to the purple
all desired shackled within tacky satin
ribbons and gilded exchequers with coveted
foul purse strings
serrated hearts, cutting tongues
Don't make a difference, gender/sex
Strands of different textures
Styles so profound with variety
Stiff, sticky, tacky, wet, or dry
Products keep it tamed for styles
Wavy, curly, straight, stringy or locked
Red, blue, green, pink, purple, or rainbow
Color(s) bring a uniqueness to a hairstyle
Hair is just an extension from the crown of the head
Its our own way to express ourselves unapologetically
Start a new style from scratch
Add extensions for any new look
Shaved head; no need for styling
Hair can carry power or hold trauma
No matter style of your crown, you matter
Only you can decide what works for you
Always remember your are amazing and beautiful with or with hair.
Into the deep- green hearted forest
far removed from man's raucous tangle
the many tacky hues of self-centeredness.
There's only herbivores and carnivores
doing their thing in primal time harmony.
Nesters weave the incoherence together
Miraculously everything is spaced out evenly
I'm given a wide berth and tolerated to a degree.
Even the gray silence keeps its distance from me.
Smeared In a pattern.
This Rorschach abstraction.
Flowing like satin.
In cascading fashion.
Symmetry, mimicry.
Mirroring the mind.
Coddling, throttling.
Either or is fine.
Full to bursting.
Ache encephalitis.
In many minds of how this building
pressure will ignite us.
"Ticky tacky" tinderboxes.
Longing for the flame.
Effigies of rememberance.
Not all burn the same.
The beauty of the sanguine bloom,
detonator primed.
T-minus the countdown.
Get on with the ride.
Functional, nominal.
Broken by design.
Apathy, empathy.
Whatever's left is mine.
In written depiction.
This Incessant chatter.
An empty inscription.
For a mindless matter.
Her name is Prunella DeVil-
Prunella DeVil, Prunella DeVil,
Ugly and scary with a loud voice ... SHRILL,
The very sight of her gives me a chill,
Prunella, Prunella-
With her shriveled creepy face that could kill,
Mentally ill is Prunella DeVil !
She refuses to go away ... and still-
She lurks in the shadows wearing a tacky black cloak,
Prunella, I am on a mission ...
Oh, bet she would like to grab my THROAT !
She is a horrible nasty varmint,
Everything she owns is a stinky garment,
I would like to give her a makeover ... THRILL,
Prunella, Prunella DeVil !
Slouching, sleepy in the little arm chair, eating cake,
Our country on the screen, there isn’t much at stake.
Drowning out the tacky tunes with our laughter,
It’s harmony,you see, that everyone is after.
Harmony, like this, in your living room together,
Flags and funny costumes, it’s times like this, nothing’s better.
Maybe peace is best achieved through art,
Oh Europe, please
keep open
your musical heart.
My brother calls me "Hammer Head"
Cause I eat Nails !
My sister calls me "Tacky"
Cause I eat Nails !
My friends call me "Spike"
Just because I eat Nails !
Everyone says I am a
"glutton for punishment"
I just can't seem to stop,
Biting on my Nails !
cheap
& tacky
flames&
smoke
whatever
is
at hand
fragments
in code
scratched
away
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