Ah yes. This is a long forgotten poem. It’s weird, you might like it. I have long forgotten the meaning.
That reminds me…
Of fallen trees and broken veins
It reminds me…
Of you burying yourself in snow
It reminds me…
Of candles glowing and brains blazing
It reminds me to breathe and take a moment
When dawn is stabbing and you are sleeping
It reminds me of you fumbling in the distance and cowards
Beneath the floorboards
It reminds me of blind falling and you slipping
So drop the syringe and pick up the corpse
Reunite ghost and soul
Breathe today and die again tomorrow
I see dew and melting limbs
I see the lake (make me whole-)
And it reminds me…
Of you drowning.
If you do not know who Nick Blinko is then you have unfortunately not been subject to his mad ramblings, intricate dark art and his distortion of music from his band Rudimentary Peni. I highly suggest looking into his things. As an introduction to his music seek out the death church ep and any googled art work is a great start. This drawing is pencil which encompasses the style of a lot of my art work.
Hello. I’m new to art time via Tom Nagy. I have come to share the beginning of a novel I am working on. I haven’t written in quite a long time due to extraneous circumstances. It is still in its rough stage clearly, but I am enjoying the process. Here it is.
When I see myself, it is as a small being. A small being destined for destruction at the hands of the almighty one, the one of utmost importance, it is the one that will dictate my place in life. I am a bee. I am a drone to this one. It is doom, a monotonous task to be so small and insignificant to have your importance relegated to the side as that one and only claims you. For a bee this pillar of power is the queen, for people like protesters it is the government. Who is to say if bees are content with this position of lowly servitude? We know through news barrages and pointless internet groupings that people are not content with this position. We know from the dejected faces of the crowds as they move along the streets that they are not content. They hate it, they refuse it, they wish to shake the roles; the cages that have been placed around them.
Yes, when I see myself, I see a bee. Doomed to the worship of one, but it isn’t one, it has never been that way. That’s the difference between us and bees, we see many points of worship in everyday life, and these points do not even have to be living. It can be money or wires…But for me, it has always been people. I have been doomed to be a slave to others, the important ones. Finding myself flittering back and forth to meet the needs of the people I cross, for the benefit of them, always for them. Like the drone and the queen bee. The difference between me, the protesters, and all other refusing beings is that I open my mind and arms and shout, “Come do what you may, scar my body and mind and let me smile in knowing I was in your thoughts for that brief instance!”
Yes, when I see myself, I see a bee.