Sentient Mentality

I think because I think I can

Leroy

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Leroy

Leroy is one of my first oils intended and given as a gift to my friend who was upset over the loss of her little guy.  Leroy was his original name which she later changed to … I can remember.  I was with her when she got him and while I’m a “dog guy”, as far as little lizards go, I thought he was pretty cute.

Unlike most paintings, this was completely deliberate and thought out.  Although the specific details worked themselves out, I was able to tell it to myself as though a story from background to foreground.  It may be the only time that’s happened.

This style of mine has remained a constant since I picked up the brush for the second time.  The first being water colours as a kid.  I love a gradient background with varying levels of glaze to it, followed by as much texture as I can get; usually with a knife rather than a brush.  There’s just something about carving paint that I enjoy.

I’m looking for photography tips when it comes to my paintings.  Seems there’s always a lighting problem.  Can’t afford special equipment at the moment, and I know there’s google, but maybe you all have some experience I could learn from.

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12:12, 12/12/12

What does the number mean to you?

The 12th day of the 12th month at the age of 12… wish I could, but I’ll never forget.

12 bottles in a case of liqour.

Two 12’s in a case of beer.

12 smokes in half a pack, what a way to start the day.

12 inches in a foot long joint or was it 13; what a way to end it.

Sometimes 12 hours sleep in 12 nights.

12 years after wasn’t enough. Another 12 … almost there.  I think its about right.

What is 12?  Just a number?

Where does your strength come from?

A day?  A number?  A name?  A song?

Something meant to be right but ended up going wrong?

I can feel my skull splitting with an urge, a surging need

To empower you with your own history

To make things all right again.

Just to be me.

 


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Stranger

How strange that a stranger should be no stranger at all.

In fact, stranger you can be closer than any friend I could call.

What’s stranger is how strange my friends would look at me

If they knew I’d estranged them just to feel free.

Do I make those friends strangers to who I think I am

Or are they strangers who I call friends who I don’t allow to see.

Is that the same or just strange coincidence

One can put themselves in the midst of a stranger mess.

There’s nothing strange about what I write, it comes from down deep.

Its still filtered for you, but strangely more for me.

 


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Forced words

Forced words never amounted to much

They taste of cud

Regurgitated from some earlier experience

The required no sense of emotion, connection or learning

Merely memory to expose them once again to daylight

You can hear their insincerity like background noise

Impeding the musical experience that is life.

What’s wrong with truth and honesty

Why be so scared of truth and love

You don’t really know either

You’re ignorant and that’s ok

So long as you yearn to learn more

Conquer the fears and allow them to thrust you forward

Into experiences; good, bad, and ugly 😛

For every ten steps back you’ll gain space to leap forward

Be authentic and genuine

Let them know you to the core

You can learn about yourself this way

You can do so much more.

Let the words slip on by

Without analysis, without care

Let them explode from the gunpowder of your love.

Who needs to force words

When there’s already so much to share.

It takes no creativity… only honesty, love, and feeling free to be you.

 


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Identities

Playing with photoshop, this slipped out of my brain years back.  A reminder of  the chaos that can grow in one’s head.  It made a good wallpaper for a long time.  My best art is never intentional.  Can’t tell you where it comes from… just emotion escaping me I suppose.

After I’d finished this one, I remember seeing many distorted faces… what do you see?

To date, all artwork on my site are my creations with the exception of my lyrical inspiration pieces.


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Taking steps

 

Stringing life together

One lace

Two laces

What’s that got to do with bunny ears?

Things I wanted

I’m starting to take

I’m starting to make

I’m looking forward not back

I did this

And I’ll continue

I’ll take it all and make it all happen

One step at a time

No bunny ears, no rabbit’s foot

Its all me.

But without you, there’d be no reason.


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My friend.

I know you and I know what you want to say to me before you say it.  I get it because I’ve been there too.  Right there.  If I haven’t, well, I wish it’d been me instead of you.  It might not help.  Sometimes I know what you need to hear whether you want to or not.  Sometimes I have no clue how to tell you.

My friend, you probably think the exact same thing.

Sometime before yesterday, it was the day before that, and we didn’t know each other yet.  We were strangers both learning how to be.  Now we know each other and we’re still learning how to be.  Seems as though that’s really the journey.  The journey’s better with you, my friend.  Its certainly worse without you, but I get it.  Whether for a minute or an hour or a day or a week or more, sometimes your journey and mine are not the same. Sometimes we learn how to be in each other’s thoughts for the purpose of feeling like we’re still on the journey together.

Remember that however you think you feel about yesterdays, you’re never done learning.  Tomorrow’s lessons might just shed light on the yesterdays that bother you today.  Even if they don’t, you’ll have one more yesterday’s worth of memories to dilute that old trouble, so make them good, and make them strong, and make sure they’re worth smiling about because those other ones are out of your control.

My friend, you taught me this.  It seems I’ll teach it back to you today, and you’ll remind me of it again when I need it.  This record’s not broken, its just circular.  Sometimes hearing the same song over and over again is exactly what we need, and singing the same tune over and over again helps too.  Inevitably we all remember the words, and inevitably the meaning is engraved in us but with a different impact.  The impact of sharing that time with you takes over from the impact of the words and tunes we share.

After tomorrow, it’ll be the day after, and we’ll both have played a part in each other’s path in life.  We’ll have made an impact and each taken away a part from the other.  In essence we’ll be more like each other than we were before.  I’ll be proud of that part of me that reminds me of you.  I hope you’ll never think poorly of yourself because of yesterdays when tomorrows are so much more interesting to think about.