Cursed the Artist

Cursed is the artist,
Who ever must bear witness
To the ever distant horizon
Whose eye alone can see
Shores beyond sight
Beyond existence.

Cursed is he who must see
The shimmering crystal waters
Of a lake of ruby and gold
Guarded by a giant of iron and stone;
Imprisoned within, a maid of diamond.

For he sees another who goes
A knight of bronze and fire,
Another one forever uncreated,
Another song unsung,
Another shore unseen.
A warrior who lives only in dreams.

And though his throat parch
Thinking of those effervescent waters
He must away to a land of mud and dust
To the world where phones jingle
And engines roar, and talking puppets
Talk about the newest fashions
Of dressing cats and dogs.

Cursed is he who dreams of knighthood,
For there are no more giants
Nor maiden royalty,
And to him falls the duty
To gaze longingly at the shores of creation,
Never knowing the dreams which haunt his living.

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I Drew a Picture, So Here’s Some Context

I’ve been quite lazy about blogging. I’d like to say it’s because recent days have been keeping me busy, but it’s more like I’m just a self-piteous wreck who needs to get a ******* move-on.

So I drew something. I was bored, and didn’t feel like moping anymore (having got in a good four hours of moping in between fragments of sleep this last night), so I got out my trusty Papermate #2 mechanical twist pencil (one of twelve identical twins, mostly out of lead), laboriously drew 73 million scales, and threw a lazy iPhone filter over it.

Continue reading I Drew a Picture, So Here’s Some Context