Your creative work

[IJesusChrist]

eventually your style becomes you, and even though you may get mad that you can't make it perfectly, it's still your style, and thats still how you're making it.

 

[Psyolopher]

If you ask another why, you will certainly die!
Me

My biggest mistake was to believe in love, instead of knowing it
Me

...i dont know, just some stuff i spat out!

 

[Mikey_Massacre]

Truth in your mind is not always truth in "reality"

My quote from last Aya trip

 

[Oknayd]

two digital works i made with my wacom tablet

 

[Lion]

i love the first one

 

[MissDarling]

This is a little prose poem I wrote when I first started dating my boyfriend:

Follow Me Into Darkness.

Follow me into darkness, beautiful, follow me into the nighttime world of New York city.

It’s the most beautiful madness I’ve ever seen, this world of glitter trash, cheap glamour. Prostitutes and junkies like angels, hipster whores and artists like prophets. We poor art students live in a dirty paradise on the edges of cities. We have the world ahead of us, we’re young, and we’re beautiful, like exotic night blooming flowers. We have our freedom, and nothing else mother-fucking matters, because we’ve finally gotten away to the smoggy polluted promised land.

Call me crazy, but there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. I run into the arms of my beloved, smell clove cigarettes and wonderful nightmares on his breath. Pillow talk about the beauty of fear, and the music pounds through us as we lay together on the bed we share, in the apartment we share.

We talk about the possibility of resurrecting dead rock-stars, of rewriting history to suit our nefarious purposes. We talk about Rozz Williams and Hunter S. Thompson in our post orgasmic daze.

We are raw, and honest together, the way all besotted couples are in bed. We go out late at night, chasing each other through the halloween orange glow of the street lights. My pretty girly glam boy and I, loving each other in passive resistance to this ugly world.

Feather boas and glitter eye-makeup, we’re quite the sight together, our rebellion against aesthetic apathy. I adore him, my pretty dark eyed androgyne angel. I want to go on a cross-country road trip with him, play music too loud as the world rushes by.

I want to fall asleep on his shoulder on the train and wake up in somewhere random like Pennsylvania or Seattle. I want him to fall asleep on my shoulder on the train so I can watch him sleep as the night passes, fingers tangled in silken jet black hair, the warmth of his breath on my neck.

I want to spend the rest of my life traveling through the night world with him by my side. I want home to be nowhere, and everywhere, and I want to feel as if we’re the only real people in the world.

I never want to run away alone again. I want to take off with two suitcases, take whatever means of escape appeals. I want to stop caring, for just a moment, about how my hair looks.

I want to be dirty for a time, feral, and alive. I want you to be wild with me for a moment, and after we are wild I want to be terribly, terribly civilized. I want to forget the sensation of grime under my fingernails, the scent of sweat. I want you always beside me, my darling, my precious one.

I think I could live any life with you, and be happy, but for now my dream is to escape, search till we find a place that is ours, reflects us in itself, like a mirror gazing out on the landscape of our souls.

Perhaps there is no such place, perhaps we are meant to live our lives in the undefined country of travel, continuous movement the only way to remain there. The greatest joy comes in searching for that single place, that reflection of the landscape of our souls.

But we, my sweet, are ever changing, shape shifters, revisionists, and chameleons, wanderers within ourselves as well as in this humming electric world. We are most at home in transition, most ourselves between selves, eternal in our unending flux state, consistent in our inconsistency.

 

[yourownworld]

The cake is a lie

I can sell self-serving teapots
He can send flowers by phone
I say buy the power ,cause there'se a free cake include
I can sell you a new hat, ten shillings and six pence
the pie talks in lies

I say buy the paper-money
I gift a free neard-death-experience
pay for a chemical brother
I want to get paid in sweat, tears, screams, smiles and sights

I can sell you a ticket to the gadda-da-vida
with a free strange fruit
He was building a crystal ship, as the god would tear the earth
I can send you to a sea of green

I can sell you clocks & numbers
with a free time, madly uncaged as wind
and if you call now, get a free mathematic manuel

I can serve you a wine made of strawberries
If you pay the bill with cords, laments and odes

I say buy your dreams and your aims
they've been built for you
He can call himself the human race


I walked on the hill, and he's still living here
he took a bath of sun, and he decided to come down the village

Damn I want to buy a bycicle ride
he watch my wheels, he fix the one that's hold by the queen

I can sell you a four-wheeled friend, my friend saw it hissed by his window, and I decided to sell it
I say vote for me and I'll give you a free cake
Did she listen to the taxes radio on her teenage starless nights?
Someone still pay you
they give you numbers, and you need food, there's a problem
they invent markets, to convert numbers into goods
numbers pay sweat, numbers travel and are trade for goods or new sweats
the cake was a lie, where was the biggest cake you've ever seen ?


I can sell you a prescription of love
I want to be paid with climax cheers, dances and happiness
I can sell you a brand new face, but it will twirl your soul like a rain's drop falling on a ancient lake
I can sell you parts of the moon, and the rabbit who hides inside
He can sell you a job, a wife, a bank account and a great house, happiness not include, sorry
But I offer the cake, who can resist a cake?

I can serve you tea in your headpot
He sang "Take a drink, go to shrinks"
We'll sail the frozen sea of faces, we'll rarely sleep

You can sell me your pains
I can drive in your vains
You can tell me there's a free cake
You can sell your leaves of joy
and the wind that make them move
in the garden, rakes leaves a man
alone with his immoral roots

You can hold a pen a make it rocks and rolls
You can sweat ink and undress poetry with blood
You can sell your reputation and promise a free cake
You can sell your limits and go deep in madness
You can come back from a black K-hole and relate amazing stories
You say something I like to hear
You can wear the new hat and the green willow
remember the oldest forty-second article, man, you're too much
thirty seconds beside the flying toasters
It's all for my true love, if I wear my hat

I ate the cake before you buy the stuff
I swear you there was a cake, you should have come a little bit earlier, it was smelling so fine
I lie on a new cake, I can sell you the cakes' tastes or memories, shapes and colors not inclused
I was hurt, when I read that the cake was a lie

the breakfast in Los Angeles
oh nicely-dressed dogs ! In de city of nights
the spleen in Paris
oh rising poets' delights ! in the city of lights

The cake was made of dawamesk
I can sell emotions in powder
I can lie on you with my eyes

We've got nothing to lose
and in reality nothing to sell
He wrote you're better free your mind instead
I don't wanna live for institutions
I just wanna leave my contribution
And I'd like to take you down, to take you high in the west
I can't sell you freedom
I can't promise everlasting-joy
I can tell you there are pains and out of sight issues

You can't sell no loneliness without a cake
You can't give no truth without silence
And you'd like to see love everywhere
Do you wanna be the unknown soldier ?

There's no cake in my schoolbook
no prices, no numbers, no ponctuation and no beginings
no gods, no wolfs, no names and no heroes

You bought liquor and clothes
and you don't care about the cake-stories
cause you're high in the rests
I can't sell dead cats, I can't hand you dead rats
I can't show you a nude night, I can show you a lover die

The cake was a lie
so why did I bought the stuff ?
I should fight for my free cake !

Back on the hill in the flying horse wings
Now there are sellers of magic beans, sellers of postcards and sellers of mind-washing
peking sun is angry and plans to go away
new-york moon don't wan't a man to walk on her

I can serve you laughs
if you pay with prose, mind games and talentedly-arranged letters
I can serve you another ya-ya cake
I can observe you well with Judy's glasses
I'd like to take you up in the tree, and wake you up deep in the island in your arm

You can sell me the last words
You can serve me my warm chocolate
You can serve my orange sun
You can come in the calm morning

 

[yourownworld]

Low march in the bubblegun

Well, we'll walk
Tell wheel to run
across the chewing-gum fields
Bells bless hawks
Call balls for my bubblegun
can you see your hot-cheese feet ?
Shell she's shocked
Call sun cool he burns
slow march of the black queen
Hell he'll talk
he hissed his word
about the waves of bubbleguns that danse in sea
about the girl in floating bottle
and the salvation in flowering blotters

Well, we'll sell a sail
Till hills trees try
to capture the mad riding fool
Choosed shoes shook my book
Cold soul sold his snow
snorted by the dandy junk
and his gentle monkey who eats his knees
and his punk mates who sit at the feast
she's a skunk taste weed softly drying on the east

Well we flowed her
tears out of her eyes
Shall we fall under her
strong years of her long hair
Cream-rain train blows your brain
Blueberry-fish, blues burried a wish
Tripping down the dawn's highway
Well I'll smile, will I
ride a mile on the reptile drive
plastisine axes, dressed knives, and bubblegun
will hit this hat , what ?
those wall hosts swallow lost towns
and I saw so lone laws in a loan

I know we'll see slow songs
filling son's sweet-gin
setting gigs on sun wet lips
it's the marshmallow sounds like a soft eyes parade
it's the march's low march to the trempoline

[/quote]

 

[yourownworld]

Hatter, writer

Life in paper

 

[Toxica]

yourownworld, your works are great!
Oknayd, your too...
I'd like to be able to draw that way...))

 

[Lion]

yourownworld, your works are great!
Oknayd, your too...
I'd like to be able to draw that way...))

second that

 

[Oknayd]

yourownworld, your works are great!
Oknayd, your too...
I'd like to be able to draw that way...))

second that

Hey thanks i appreciate it. Start today i would say
I'm still not very satisfied about my drawings most of the time but i guess that's just because i'm always busy to better myself.
I still lack a lot in understanding perspectives intuitively for example..

Lion, how's that tattoo coming along Last year i made a design for myself but somehow i didnt end up in the tattooist chair and now the moment has somewhat gone by. Some people suggested to me to get into tattooing but i don't consider myself qualified enough to be a tattoo artist lol, but who knows.. maybe some day.

 

[braha_kahn]

I make musick darkambient and tekno/hardcore:

www.myspace.com/brambocell

for those interested I'm playing @ a party in Waregem, Belgium on the 20th of september

 

[Nomada]

This is the promised trip report on the beans and apples, coffee, cigarettes and wieird cannabis alone four days session.

"There are no rules" [ oil on canvas ]

 

[ararat]

nice stuff, something I'd not be capable of it has a bit too much of a dirty feeling to it though, is it intended? the stones on the bottom came out very nice!
at first I was wondering what this is supposed to be, but now I see it, funny creatures/faces




after a long time something new by me. I'm not sure about that kind of stuff anymore, I'm growing tired of sticky beautiful hippyflippy landscapes. I feel I should do/try something new, something I haven't done so far. I'm already collecting ideas, but nothing really exciting pops into my mind. I suppose I'm going to ask the shrooms if they have an idea next time I get my hands on some :>
the first one is an attempt to do something, at least, a little bit different than usual.

 

[restin]

wow, it all looks great :shock:

Misery: what kind of program are you using?

 

[Nomada]

know not what it is intended. I was just preoccupied with intensity in every stroke.

the first photo has phantasmal light conditions. beautiful. I want to go there.

 

[ararat]

wow, it all looks great :shock:

Misery: what kind of program are you using?

thank you :>

I'm using lightroom for organizing and some major adjustments, and then I edit it in photoshop for detailed and more careful calibration.

know not what it is intended. I was just preoccupied with intensity in every stroke.

hehe. that's the way it's supposed to be.

the first photo has phantasmal light conditions. beautiful. I want to go there.

it's a nice place. I've been there in my childhood quite often, but the landscape has changed. I had a very nice, even blissful memory from that place. visting it was quite a sobering. there are more houses, more skilfts and even a artificial lake has been "built". it's the one you see on the photo.
it's still nice after all though.

 

[moldyb]

Great pics Misery, . . . those mountains really go on forever in that first one.

Here's an oil painting I did on a 24x30" wood panel, . . . it's a kind of giant, glowing structure growing out of the ground.

 

[Psyolopher]

Wow its amazing moldyb!
Love it