Www.muskegonmuseum.org/ PostCard salon 2024..
Www.muskegonmuseum.org/ PostCard salon 2024..featured Artist: Andrepace.. [ amartin@muskegonartmuseum.org] ( 231-720-2582).. phone-in welcome...
See How the Fruit Glistens Darkly?
Pain lurks in the back of your gums.A wisdom tooth is growing. Transition - troubling thoughtsOf coming to. A room of sullen faces foreheads wrinkledCotton clinging to your loose lips. The tribunal entersStage right: blood dribbles down your pockmarked chinEyes roll. Exit? Blocked and strength is failing.Crash! Your chance, you stagger down the stairwellHobbling with your IV stand of a caneRoar...
Whispers of Sardonic Shadows
In whispered corners, secrets loom,Their whispers hum like impending doom.Within the heart, they quietly jest,A sarcastic smirk, a cynical quest.
Like clowns in a circus, they parade,Their allure a joke, a charade.Their power wanes in the light of day,A farce we play, a comedy's sway.
In quiet murmur, they mock and tease,A punchline lost in the breeze.Their burden light, a cosmic jest,A joke ...
To the and of Forgotten Dreams
To the land of forgotten dreams, Reality pulls apart the seams. Can we get back to those places, Even if they are full of lost faces. Life remains demanding, A daydream left standing.Love becomes invasive,Lurking nightmares are persuasive. Lost and stuck in a pattern, An ending that was bound to happen. To the land of forgotten dreams, Reality pulls apart the seams. Can we get back to those pla...
Words Left Unsaid
daughter, ask me what I am what I do I’ll tell you daughter or maybe today I’ll saypartner a good one too. florist, sometimesreceptionist somewhere or other and loverone that demands attention don’t forget me now don’t, forget me now. I like chaos in love my venus in leo she likes chaos with a touch of - tenderness - those things are what I amI write, day in day out I write and I wonder why tho...
ribbons
i remember when our youth was tiedi remember the knots and the bikes we promised to trade for rocking chairsthe sound of strings on the front porchand a tree every winter seen through our square windowwhen your silly teeth would openamidst a black seaemitting joy and red ribbonsthe sound flapping in the windtiptoeing across ears and faceshow freely we flew with thembefore landingin trees of our...
A Parabolic Dream
It was a night well slept, But the dreams were swept,From memory upon waking. A lengthy chain of tales,Reduced to vague details,The bulk of it escaping. The dreamer lays supine,Puzzled by the timeline,Of the thing he’s been chasing. Aspirations are like dreams:At once, flowing like streams,But reality always replacing. He wanted to be an astronaut,But poverty left him distraught,His mother b...
When the stars
my berries sit cocooned in cold fuzzI bin them unopened with yellow gloves,I thought I'd have made porridge by now. the ham is speckled, the bread stalethe korma and balti the same shade of brownI dip the crusts in my mystery sauceas I scroll with sore thumbs. now when I smell surface cleaner I think of all the fruit flies I've drowned. the perpetual ticking bore into my brain so I put an end t...
Www.wiltonart.com/ 12x12.2024
What Makes Art A Rolex 2024[ Www.wiltonart.com/ 12x12.2024 Preview paintings by. Andre pace] Enjoy this years Art trends ..
half true
I had a dream I wasn’t yours.your lifeblood, your child.your essence poured into a half true poet,like salt to a wound.crooked teeth, brown eyes, a no good,son.I had a dream you lived a kinder life.grew into your soul, grew up a bit too.in this dream I am not yours, butyou haven’t ever even been mine.cigarette, blue eyed, youngest daughterturned a half true mother.“no good daughters, make even...
My Darling
My darling, my child, my canvas,lays unfinished, untouched, unloved. It sulks next to the growing cobwebs,Latching from the frame to the windowsill.I glare towards my darling, barely noticed in the corner of my eye,An edge of moonlight caressing its darker sides.My heart aches to tend to her, to show her that I’m doing alright,Yet, I cannot fathom such a lie,My body is tired, my soul drained, a...
What could've been
Almost touching mine, rests the leg of someone else who got swallowed up by time. I share a train home with a woman drawing the face of her crying child,and a man watching a marathon on his phone – taking pain killers for mystery aches in his legs and his sides.Through a gap between seats, two strangers of the same age quietly wait for each otherthen part ways. I breathe in what could’ve been....
Album Review: Saviors, Green Day
Ritchie Blackmore once said, “You’re either a genius, or a clever thief.” What then are you when you steal from yourself? Barely that — when you knick a riff from Pink? Green Day has nothing left in the tank. Listen to ‘One Eyed Bastard’ and tell me that’s not ‘So What’. “I’m making an offer that you cannot deny,” yells Billie Joe Armstrong, presumably still belted at the hip with silver stu...
My website is 'An Adventure Gallery'
When I say this about my website, I am both naming and describing it.
An Adventure Gallery by Trish
trish.neocities.org
'An Adventure Gallery' has two main functions: it provides me a digital place to showcase some of my own visual artworks alongside some of my favorite music on Spotify, and it also functions as a story telling device (in the style of a "Choose Your Own Adve...
what’s ours rises from us
Me: “I sleep like this–hunching in the heaviness of nighttime.”Land: “I’m not sleeping. Sleep is a too peaceful thing for land & dirt. We rehearse unforeseen voices/changes/quiver/language in the nighttime. I hide my face in my palms and close my eyes: a mud-like pain that hangs heavy on my eyelids keeps my eyes closed. My right ear is buried under the surface of dust–the sound of growing r...
Hours into my next life as a tree
6:59 Suddenly I want everyone in my life to become strangers to me again. Not to say I don’t cherish human relationships– I know I will still be sad about that eternal loss, I consciously know/ my choice of estrangement is conscious. But wouldn’t it be cool to shrink in incompleteness and dread? –then grow in damp moss and muted soil, realizing there are branches supporting/ hurting me from the...
Guides on Turning Your Body into Landscape(s)
Treat your body as fragmented pieces. So every piece has two ends; so the anti-choreographical gesture of pointing/stretching/reaching is stranded:...
A Dead Philosopher, Digitised
I first discovered Alan Watts’ work in the same way every Millennial has—on YouTube. His voice has become the driving force behind motivational and philosophical videos almost since the site’s inception, with users uploading stirring string music against the backdrop of lush, open landscapes or the star-swept nebulae we’ve captured out in space, all framed by Watt’s musings on life, death, lov...
Goodbye, Beautiful
You make my chestfeel fullof clouds and starsand cosmosAnd really really deep purplelike wineAnd the stars dripdown into the oceanand the waves walk to shoreand put clothes onand call themselves...Well, I know what I call youAnd I'll hold thatin my chest tooas I watch the wavesretreat and dissipatefrom me once againAnd the warm sun willturn the grass green againand I won't wear shoes,not if I d...
I've Told The Moon
I've told the moon everything,and she adores you tooMy heart is crystallizeddark amber,frozen in time,warm and beautifulShe asked me,"What is this ...
Lost Love
I hope that when my time runs out I've felt the love I've longed for.if I am taken too soon,will I tell myself the common old adagesthat everything worked out in the end,that everything happened for a reason,and that I got what I deserved?but if it has not all manifested yet,could I still say that it was mine to be earned?will I sulk in the realm beyond the living wishing that things were diffe...
half asleep
In the same summer I met my brother,I think I dreamed for the last time.I dream mostly every night, but they no longer feel like dreams to me.instead the times in which i’m asleep, just feel like passing periods.in which I am asleep, but not resting. in the same summer i met my brother/ albeit the first time ever/ I started my medication journey.a journey I wish I had never took/ I no longer d...
Trapped In The Sky
None of it will matter when I land. Perhaps that’s the real trap and not the window seat from which I write. Let me start from the beginning...
Testimony from the Giver of All Gifts
If a brother hadn’t told his brother, “ “then the young would’ve never learned tohit, like that; dissect,like that.Because when a sister tells her sister—The opaline crest of the lip could neverSing, like this. Listen—it could neversing. Like this.Listen—“ .”What if the negative space of characteris the sum of all you discarded— the memories, miscarried, an evil man gave youand the mo...
Sunday
We met in church. Or, out of churchWe met before, two stray delinquent friend-of-friendsIntroduced, then. But never met beforeI took you where the ...
Pursuit
Legs burn. Heart races. Can't stop. Stopping means dying. Want to scream, but lungs feel like they're on fire.A tandem bike is so much harder to co...
The Burnout Verses
Sonnet in the Tune of a Canceled Future(to the poem I could have written if I had the time)Because the wages are too low and the demands too highbecause we’re all burnt out on dreaming too muchand the Aderral mills are running on low supply,I’ll botch every volta and the meters will die with such
envy. I don’t read anymore for a pretty word,a line break, some labor.Little to no more splendor. T...
(Be)Late(d) Language
A self-reflective prose poem that grows within the dark bough of a nightmare, yet the branches continually stick out, stabbing the reality around me into fleshy, fragmented voices.
Something was there
Something was thereIt hidunder blankets and shadowsPressed into soft bone Impressions Moments layed in my skullTerribly knownThat like the scars on my skin they too shall fadeMy beating heart hung onto divots and dropsEach fold sungA rupture in my chest Of something long forgottenAnd in the shadows I reached For something no longer thereHeart break with no subject A flower with no bud Letters ...
Breadcrumbs for Breakfast
My hands form with multigrain your many faces,it’s lips rehearse the things you say.An egg fries below, the burner procrastinates it's task and the past will repeat itself turn it downturn it down . . ….Your eyeslight with Neptuneabsolved in blue,they lead to nowhere…Yetwere they ...
How to Care for Your Luxury Bag Straps?
Designer bag straps endure a lot of environmental damage every day. This includes rubbing, spills, dirt, and sweat buildup. Straps get dirty and worn out over time, even if they are well-made. To keep your straps in good condition for longer, take preventive measures. This will help maintain their appearance and performance.
Taking care of your Cross Body Bag Straps and getting professiona...
A fair trade.
What’s so wrong basic? Basic is free. The expense of creation left me jaded,Now there’s just me. Not the one who could move folkWithout touching a bone. The one who lets them decide, How far I may go.So Immature I once wasLooking down my nose on those Allowing the clock to dictate their flow9 to 5 Monday to FriGrateful for a weekend they already owned. I assumed the craft that set my heart ali...
“Author / Illustrator”
I used to see you smile, and the reach to itDidn’t feel too farOr too difficult to comprehend. I felt such strong injustice,But I wasn’t alone. Now, I am too stimulated,Too surrounded by company. It aches. Once, I saw the music of your tongue,Oh, the stories you would tell To excite me to sleep. The sickness returns in waves,That once made me think I held another life in my arms -But now I kno...
A confession
In the night I am restless, so I leave my lover alone to toss in our bed and wander the house. I live by the light of the fridge in these early hours, sipping cold milk on my kitchen floor and pouring some into little floral saucers for my cats. I go outside a lot in the night, in the dark, lay on the grass feeling the dew on the backs of my knees and breathing in oppressive humidity. These sum...