Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Thursday, 6 October 2011
Tuesday, 13 September 2011
True Love
"I like it. I'm not gonna crack.
I miss you. I'm not gonna crack.
I love you.I'm not gonna crack.
I killed you. I'm not gonna crack."
I miss you. I'm not gonna crack.
I love you.I'm not gonna crack.
I killed you. I'm not gonna crack."
Lithium , Nirvana
Nirvana In Bloom: Nevermind Exhibition
The Loading Bay Gallery, Brick Lane.
Standing surrounded my Nirvana Memorabilia, lyrics, sound and video made me well up. I got hot flushes, dizziness, butterflies... I could hardly breathe. I will always be truly truly in love with Kurt Cobain. On the 20th anniversary of NeverMind (which is the same age as me!) Nirvana changed history and made themselves remembered for ever. As the exhibition put it this is not because of Kurt's history or his tragic death this is the shear power and uncontrollable beauty of his lyrics and music. It is literally breathtaking. Watching their last gig at Reading I could not help but feel like I was in heaven. Raw emotion. That is all.
Monday, 12 September 2011
On ink
I can't really believe I am doing this. This means it is actually over. I feel sick. I am terified. I am sitting in a public library (the need to write or blog without the internet at home is making me feel desperate) and I am struggling to breath. It is this bit of ink in my skin that means everything. It made you a part
of me. I am ignoring the blood. That isn't quite so visible but now it is going to be all over. I felt like I had to keep trying because of this bit of ink. A birth mark connecting me to you. I hope this is enough. I hope this is right. I have no choice but to destroy this bit of ink and be born again. A constant reminder. A reminder of all the memories but moist of all the curse that it wouldn;t work. That you that me would never change. We didn't for each other. We got killed my ink. The memories before. the memories after. The happiness. The anger. The loathing. The pain. The jelousy. The fear. The lack of trust. The escapism. The joy. The ecstasy. Everything in ink wiped clean.
Without ink I am free?
The panic I am feeling right now is suffocating. My eyes hurt. My head aches.
This is withdrawel. Cold turkey. The ink has to be the light.
of me. I am ignoring the blood. That isn't quite so visible but now it is going to be all over. I felt like I had to keep trying because of this bit of ink. A birth mark connecting me to you. I hope this is enough. I hope this is right. I have no choice but to destroy this bit of ink and be born again. A constant reminder. A reminder of all the memories but moist of all the curse that it wouldn;t work. That you that me would never change. We didn't for each other. We got killed my ink. The memories before. the memories after. The happiness. The anger. The loathing. The pain. The jelousy. The fear. The lack of trust. The escapism. The joy. The ecstasy. Everything in ink wiped clean.
Without ink I am free?
The panic I am feeling right now is suffocating. My eyes hurt. My head aches.
This is withdrawel. Cold turkey. The ink has to be the light.
Sunday, 11 September 2011
Raven girl
She's so sad and her bodies not moving.
Locked in her room cos her minds going crazy.
Her raven hair is shining
But her pale skin is starving.
Hidden in the darkness.
Sunken lightness.
She is so special
But she doesn't know it.
I see her music moving through her rigid elbow
Leaking from her soul.
Sound fills her world but it's all blacked up.
Draw up our love and keep fighting back.
Sun fading backwards fast through the clouds in her room.
Her large hazel eyes hold so much strung up.
Your tender and gentle I see al your fear.
Girl your so blessed but I can't get in.
Your feelings messed up
China doll you put out so strong.
Just let out whats wrong.
Your lips are quivering under red paint. Ruby red.
The girl without finger tips.
Cut off lock of hair.
Don't cry little sister.
Not without letting it go.
Run with the notes and play with the keys.
Feel the fresh air and escape to wild sea.
Follow the river.
Music run free.
Locked in her room cos her minds going crazy.
Her raven hair is shining
But her pale skin is starving.
Hidden in the darkness.
Sunken lightness.
She is so special
But she doesn't know it.
I see her music moving through her rigid elbow
Leaking from her soul.
Sound fills her world but it's all blacked up.
Draw up our love and keep fighting back.
Sun fading backwards fast through the clouds in her room.
Her large hazel eyes hold so much strung up.
Your tender and gentle I see al your fear.
Girl your so blessed but I can't get in.
Your feelings messed up
China doll you put out so strong.
Just let out whats wrong.
Your lips are quivering under red paint. Ruby red.
The girl without finger tips.
Cut off lock of hair.
Don't cry little sister.
Not without letting it go.
Run with the notes and play with the keys.
Feel the fresh air and escape to wild sea.
Follow the river.
Music run free.
Tuesday, 6 September 2011
SwanSong
Dappled light plays chords
Swimming swirling patterns on
The skulking listless lake.
She gazes out into mystery.
Her kissless lips seek
Uncomforting rays.
She longs for what she lost far far away.
She lost because it does not exist without her loosing her freedom.
Her feet trapped in entrancement
Beating and binding
Pointing and punctuating the uncomfortable stillness.
Her jerking neck stretching out to the remaining hopeless sun.
Bare skin.
Bare skin.
Exposed to the breeze and the shadows of the crippled trees
Watching and waiting
Whispering to the muddied earth.
She longs to love or be loved.
To feel her feathered wing to be free
To be loved by something beautiful.
Her wildness catches her breath as she swirls and sways.
Her poor madness longing and lusting for touch.
She sings wailing wishes to the watery world.
The world that holds the deep dark desires
Where fished conspire to eat and gnaw at her feelings alive.
She flairs her arms as the gasp at last life.
To feel this bound up
Last fight and flight from the such strife.
The devils last whispers of temptation and fear cast spells on her senses.
Her very last tear.
Her shoes wont stop dancing an emotional death.
Her eyes wont stop streaming
Oceans silently falling
Her turning and kicking
Dancing music of sighing.
The wind in the rushes
The doom in the sky
The love that she feels
Such a burning desire.
A furnace an explosion
Her heart burning up
To die for the love
Of an ephemeral ghost.
A moment of dreaming
To dance not alone.
The drinking of truth from her spirit by God
Her swan is a symbol
A prison of life.
She sinks into deepness
The playing doesn't stop.
Her breath failing
And stopping
Not gasping for life.
She lets herself float higher and higher.
No fighting her fate as she falls darker and darker.
Her mind is the clearest
She knows what she loves
To die for this beauty
The beauty of HER love.
Swimming swirling patterns on
The skulking listless lake.
She gazes out into mystery.
Her kissless lips seek
Uncomforting rays.
She longs for what she lost far far away.
She lost because it does not exist without her loosing her freedom.
Her feet trapped in entrancement
Beating and binding
Pointing and punctuating the uncomfortable stillness.
Her jerking neck stretching out to the remaining hopeless sun.
Bare skin.
Bare skin.
Exposed to the breeze and the shadows of the crippled trees
Watching and waiting
Whispering to the muddied earth.
She longs to love or be loved.
To feel her feathered wing to be free
To be loved by something beautiful.
Her wildness catches her breath as she swirls and sways.
Her poor madness longing and lusting for touch.
She sings wailing wishes to the watery world.
The world that holds the deep dark desires
Where fished conspire to eat and gnaw at her feelings alive.
She flairs her arms as the gasp at last life.
To feel this bound up
Last fight and flight from the such strife.
The devils last whispers of temptation and fear cast spells on her senses.
Her very last tear.
Her shoes wont stop dancing an emotional death.
Her eyes wont stop streaming
Oceans silently falling
Her turning and kicking
Dancing music of sighing.
The wind in the rushes
The doom in the sky
The love that she feels
Such a burning desire.
A furnace an explosion
Her heart burning up
To die for the love
Of an ephemeral ghost.
A moment of dreaming
To dance not alone.
The drinking of truth from her spirit by God
Her swan is a symbol
A prison of life.
She sinks into deepness
The playing doesn't stop.
Her breath failing
And stopping
Not gasping for life.
She lets herself float higher and higher.
No fighting her fate as she falls darker and darker.
Her mind is the clearest
She knows what she loves
To die for this beauty
The beauty of HER love.
Painting in petals of the past
Stalk as dry as her cracking brittle bones
Scraping at the corners of the air,
Scratching the rim of the replacement vase.
The cold shiny steel sucking the stained roses red bloodless life.
Their fragile state holds time
Moves place.
The transient shadow cast on the new greying wall wavers hitting cold damp air,
Floating through dimmed window shattered plate, pane of glass,
Bladed past.
One petal remains.
Hanging on as if clinging to some purity lost in new found innocence.
White overpowered by sordid bleeding blight.
These roses are old and belong to a different me.
There is a pink to the grisly rain and these emblems need to run free.
The petals in my palm shiver on the wind as they scatter into the swirling sea.
The earth takes on a new form
Painting patters of pain that is, that are, too pretty to see.
Sinking deeper and darker the gentle flash fades away.
Waves of pleasure hit and eb and flow in new found ecstasy of my lost found mind.
Scraping at the corners of the air,
Scratching the rim of the replacement vase.
The cold shiny steel sucking the stained roses red bloodless life.
Their fragile state holds time
Moves place.
The transient shadow cast on the new greying wall wavers hitting cold damp air,
Floating through dimmed window shattered plate, pane of glass,
Bladed past.
One petal remains.
Hanging on as if clinging to some purity lost in new found innocence.
White overpowered by sordid bleeding blight.
These roses are old and belong to a different me.
There is a pink to the grisly rain and these emblems need to run free.
The petals in my palm shiver on the wind as they scatter into the swirling sea.
The earth takes on a new form
Painting patters of pain that is, that are, too pretty to see.
Sinking deeper and darker the gentle flash fades away.
Waves of pleasure hit and eb and flow in new found ecstasy of my lost found mind.
Monday, 29 August 2011
Portraits of you in pieces and destroyed ( that doesn't exist anymore)
The memories are not intact. The dissection apparent. Lobotomy of the part of my mind that was with you. it doesn't matter anymore. The purpose of the portrait is complete.
Saturday, 27 August 2011
Swansong
Personal ongoing project assisted by Eleanor Flynn
"She danced the dying swan to save herself but she never could stop living the fantasy. This was an adult childhood , a way to be free but something stopped her from breathing. The innocence was not real. "
Friday, 19 August 2011
Head
The wolves are out dancing under the moon
She's running on her mind and tripping on her skirt
It's reaching her ankles and she's naked once again.
Limbs glowing white under the howling skies.
The flying isn't fear
And the wind is free and fixed on her fierce burning stare.
My feet feel the earth, pounding the ground.
Nature's spell stole on her smile
Whip her fast and ruin her body
Thorns through her heart
Are briars to her finger tips.
Stabbing means EVERYTHING.
Blood is thicker than her skin
She is bleeding from her eyes
She fell in love with the wild things and now the haunting won't go away.
You wont get her back
Her wings got torn off
Her hair collecting feathers
Leaves poking through her skin
Her lips stopped speaking but snarling and spitting.
Ravenous hunger for flesh upon flesh.
Mud up her legs.
Closer to dirt. Ripping at scabs on her heart.
Cos her head is the earth and her hearts buried deep.
The darkness is light
And the stars her angels - She's in love with the wolfman and she lost her head.
She's running on her mind and tripping on her skirt
It's reaching her ankles and she's naked once again.
Limbs glowing white under the howling skies.
The flying isn't fear
And the wind is free and fixed on her fierce burning stare.
My feet feel the earth, pounding the ground.
Nature's spell stole on her smile
Whip her fast and ruin her body
Thorns through her heart
Are briars to her finger tips.
Stabbing means EVERYTHING.
Blood is thicker than her skin
She is bleeding from her eyes
She fell in love with the wild things and now the haunting won't go away.
You wont get her back
Her wings got torn off
Her hair collecting feathers
Leaves poking through her skin
Her lips stopped speaking but snarling and spitting.
Ravenous hunger for flesh upon flesh.
Mud up her legs.
Closer to dirt. Ripping at scabs on her heart.
Cos her head is the earth and her hearts buried deep.
The darkness is light
And the stars her angels - She's in love with the wolfman and she lost her head.
Tuesday, 16 August 2011
Saturday, 13 August 2011
Friday, 29 July 2011
Seperation
I think you know I mean it.
Because everything changes now.
The end of OUR time.
Never alone again.
No endless spaces.
Our past all dried up and cut and tied ends together.
That world before was our universe - we chose to step in or step out but it was always there.
Doesn't exist anymore!
Black holes are your fascination
But the space up their is disappearing faster than you can imagine.
No more living in the stars or being star dust.
I'm optimistic.
I like this newness.
But I am not stupid like you.
Spend too much time thinking and I know this is the end.
It didn't have to be but decisions are only human to get wrong.
You chose to separate you world.
Don't belong anymore.
It is fear. Fear that haunts us.
Gone. No more.
I didn't think it would happen like this.
the breaking of wishes makes life str o n ger.
All I can say
It seems to be fate
No longer combined.
Evermore.
Because everything changes now.
The end of OUR time.
Never alone again.
No endless spaces.
Our past all dried up and cut and tied ends together.
That world before was our universe - we chose to step in or step out but it was always there.
Doesn't exist anymore!
Black holes are your fascination
But the space up their is disappearing faster than you can imagine.
No more living in the stars or being star dust.
I'm optimistic.
I like this newness.
But I am not stupid like you.
Spend too much time thinking and I know this is the end.
It didn't have to be but decisions are only human to get wrong.
You chose to separate you world.
Don't belong anymore.
It is fear. Fear that haunts us.
Gone. No more.
I didn't think it would happen like this.
the breaking of wishes makes life str o n ger.
All I can say
It seems to be fate
No longer combined.
Evermore.
Saturday, 23 July 2011
Amy
I know there are lots of mixed opinions about Amy Winehouse and lots of tragedy in the world but no one can fail to pay there respects to this extremely talented girl on the news of her death. It is a tragedy. A tragedy caused by the world we live in, addiction, emotion, passion, creation and life. We don't know the causes. Amy had a lot of lovers and fans but people were cruel. A victim of the world of celebrity.
I was in Tesco when I heard the news (it came on the TV screens at Liverpool street) and I must admit I am devastated. The music (as well as the person) has been a big influence in my life. There was a point when I would listen to her continuously every day for almost a year. Mainly to dance to, to deal with my own problems, to be with people, just to relax. "Back to black" is probably my most listened to album ever. It came out when I was in hospital for the second time and "Rehab" was a song that we could laugh too. There we were stuck in "Rehab" and, well, it just made everything a bit lighter. Amy was also in the news a lot then.. and we were all interested. She had similarities with us that we could connect to. Obsess over. Anything. Most of all though, I really did love her music. It "feels" so much. You can "feel" her.
I hope Amy is at peace now, like so many troubled people I know that have died young, hopefully this means the torment has ended. It makes me think of all those wonderful people : Lorry, Fran, Joe, Kate and all the rest I know who are still struggling with life. "Only the good die young" . Thank you for making me stronger.
I was in Tesco when I heard the news (it came on the TV screens at Liverpool street) and I must admit I am devastated. The music (as well as the person) has been a big influence in my life. There was a point when I would listen to her continuously every day for almost a year. Mainly to dance to, to deal with my own problems, to be with people, just to relax. "Back to black" is probably my most listened to album ever. It came out when I was in hospital for the second time and "Rehab" was a song that we could laugh too. There we were stuck in "Rehab" and, well, it just made everything a bit lighter. Amy was also in the news a lot then.. and we were all interested. She had similarities with us that we could connect to. Obsess over. Anything. Most of all though, I really did love her music. It "feels" so much. You can "feel" her.
I hope Amy is at peace now, like so many troubled people I know that have died young, hopefully this means the torment has ended. It makes me think of all those wonderful people : Lorry, Fran, Joe, Kate and all the rest I know who are still struggling with life. "Only the good die young" . Thank you for making me stronger.
Friday, 22 July 2011
Tears
I cry. I cry a lot. It overwhelms me. I feel my body crying from my heart. It chokes me. I cry at you. I cry at you all the time. But just now I cried at a film. I sat here staring at the screen and I cried. Tears came. Tears came out of my eyes and then they turned to tears of joy. I cried at something that wasn't you. I have my soul back. I have feelings again. I am full. Full of tears for everything. Normal beautiful tears.
Tuesday, 19 July 2011
Rosalind
I seem to be falling in love with everyone at the moment.
Not that you know.
Maybe it is even you?
I stood there and watched you with someone else and I felt something.
It is pretty hard to explain.
You think I am the wrong kind of person.
I don't say the right things.
Don't seem the right way.
Why does everyone think I am on drugs?
Not that you know.
Maybe it is even you?
I stood there and watched you with someone else and I felt something.
It is pretty hard to explain.
You think I am the wrong kind of person.
I don't say the right things.
Don't seem the right way.
Why does everyone think I am on drugs?
Monday, 18 July 2011
Nicholas Lastiola
A piece that I found particularly connected to at the Goldsmith's MA Fine Art show.
A Glimpse
Viewed as an installation it really was quite beautiful. Art that makes you feel. Thats what I get. Art that makes you feel the subtleties
Friday, 15 July 2011
Miserable lie
It is just feeling so lonely.
Not having someone to fill every moment or just knowing that there is someone there to fill every moment of time with the knowledge that they will always love you.
Alone makes one weak and it is so hard. Well in these moments it is so hard.
I wish the pain didn't start choking my neck and strangling me like barbed wire closing around my breath.
I get this feeling where my lungs wont fill up properly and it is like I am being pushed into the floor and my spine is being pushed up so small and the walls of my body are shutting in.
My eyes well up and I am drowning in uncontrollable tears and anger. So much anger. Anger and terror and hate and hate and hate. Its the hate I can't escape from. Not the love.
It is inly you who makes me feel like this or makes by body react in this way. I used to get it at other things. I used to get upset at other things but now its just you. I wonder what I will do if I ever move on. Maybe I need something to get upset about? But why do I have to hate?
I just want something to fill my time or someone to fix me like a doll but now I am too scared of people.
Blocked out. Who wants it to be easy? Just all of this makes me feel like
my future is something I have to get through.
Just cover your face.
I don't like it anymore.
And it always gets so much worse when I am banned from fucking anything... or when I fuck too much.
Not having someone to fill every moment or just knowing that there is someone there to fill every moment of time with the knowledge that they will always love you.
Alone makes one weak and it is so hard. Well in these moments it is so hard.
I wish the pain didn't start choking my neck and strangling me like barbed wire closing around my breath.
I get this feeling where my lungs wont fill up properly and it is like I am being pushed into the floor and my spine is being pushed up so small and the walls of my body are shutting in.
My eyes well up and I am drowning in uncontrollable tears and anger. So much anger. Anger and terror and hate and hate and hate. Its the hate I can't escape from. Not the love.
It is inly you who makes me feel like this or makes by body react in this way. I used to get it at other things. I used to get upset at other things but now its just you. I wonder what I will do if I ever move on. Maybe I need something to get upset about? But why do I have to hate?
I just want something to fill my time or someone to fix me like a doll but now I am too scared of people.
Blocked out. Who wants it to be easy? Just all of this makes me feel like
my future is something I have to get through.
Just cover your face.
I don't like it anymore.
And it always gets so much worse when I am banned from fucking anything... or when I fuck too much.
Saturday, 9 July 2011
Morning
When the morning comes I can be human again.
I don't run from the light.
Just chasing life.
Being a wild thing is a choice not to be changed but I still love.
It is beautiful.
I don't run from the light.
Just chasing life.
Being a wild thing is a choice not to be changed but I still love.
It is beautiful.
Wednesday, 6 July 2011
Swansong 1
She sings her last note
A sigh of shivering breath
Angry fragility
Bursting energy burning to the end
Majestic purity
No stop.
Unrequited beauty
Romanticism of nothingness
It is all in those beautiful arms
Wild freedom free wings
Pulsing musicality
To be alone
Dying alone.
The notes of solitude sing in her feet.
A sigh of shivering breath
Angry fragility
Bursting energy burning to the end
Majestic purity
No stop.
Unrequited beauty
Romanticism of nothingness
It is all in those beautiful arms
Wild freedom free wings
Pulsing musicality
To be alone
Dying alone.
The notes of solitude sing in her feet.
Tuesday, 5 July 2011
To be an artist
To be an artist means I can be everything I ever wanted to be.
I can be an actor, a writer, a dancer, a poet, a performer, a painter, a designer, a muse, a model, a star, a director, a lover, a painter, a singer, a daughter, a mother... and nobody can tell me I am doing it wrong.
I can be an actor, a writer, a dancer, a poet, a performer, a painter, a designer, a muse, a model, a star, a director, a lover, a painter, a singer, a daughter, a mother... and nobody can tell me I am doing it wrong.
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