THEMES THAT YOU LIKE

Ersatz

"REMBRANDT CAME INTO MY MIND & I WONDERED IF HE WOULD HAVE FELT AS I WAS FEELING"

theliteraryalchemist:

Underneath the Green Cloud,
they’ve stolen another’sexpression, oppressing impression incountervail, counting veils each hasdropped. There was never sun when neitherentrapped the other’s eyes—let them play a roundof Romance, pretendingit’s the late 19th century, no phones orsocial media: just letters to & fro,under phase where science & revolution wasparadigm, poignant, peaceful—what of this place we were promised inour early days? Tired of exile, we are,exhausted of Dread & Absurdwaiting at a bus stop for someone who’llnever show up. Back then, societyhad no conception of pre-ordering things on future dates:that’s the thing, who knows whenanything will happen anymore, twiddling thumbsin between fear for a conclusion &being lost in another face, like Narcissusdrowning inside another person? I suppose withletters, they cannot hurt—dauntless characters representinganother woman standing in front of you,giving everything in that momentjust to sabotage any plans of happenstance inthis damned eccentric life—ah,sweet, sweet strange beauty, vulgar allurejaded as jacquard patters orblack sweaters. At this point, I don’t mindstanding in front of the mailboxtoday, or tomorrow, or for a week, or years, the next century…maybe she will come then, or perhapsshe already did as I spent the best years ofmy life waiting on the best years ofmy life—what’s there to write about? What haveI done? Nothing wrong with waiting just a bitlonger, hopefully find it in myself to take shadeby the tree once more & see the last thingI think about before I dreamappear to me—whether be it lifeor a dream. Yes. Underneath the green cloud,where love is blind, relying on other senses& clawing its way out of the cave,for the sun—hell, give me the moon,give anyone some kind of light. Direct me insome fashion, some fascism, some passion to paint meimmortal. Art, the Immoral, the Memorable—queued, we begin watching clocks with earsas the years go by. As the yearsgo by, nothing will change just to make sureyou’ve never gotten older, either:descend from a beam of lightlike celestial air mailpostmarked B.C.
-RYArtwork:

Eye in Eye, 1894Edvard Munch, Norwegian (b. 1863—d. 1944)Oil on canvas

Esaias Thorén, Snäckan
indigenousdialogues:

"These things are there. The garden and the treeThe serpent at its root, the fruit of goldThe woman in the shadow of the boughsThe running water and the grassy space.They are and were there. At the old world’s rim,In the Hesperidean grove, the fruitGlowed golden on eternal boughs, and thereThe dragon Ladon crisped his jewelled crestScraped a gold claw and sharped a silver toothAnd dozed and waited through eternityUntil the tricksy hero, Herakles,Came to his dispossession and the theft.”© A.S. Byatt, ‘Possession’, pg 13 (International Vintage, 1991) / Painting: ‘The Garden of the Hesperides’, Frederic Leighton, Oil on Canvas, 1892
pixography:

Liz McKay
red-lipstick:

Shelby Alexandra Grubbs (South Bend, IN, USA) - Series II: Water Reflections, 2013     Paintings: Watercolors on Paper 

zimbabwe2003:

Understanding yourself is power

(Source: zimbabwe666, via teenkhaleesi)

colin-vian:

  Jury Annenkov (1889 - 1974) Montparnasse
colin-vian:

  Lim Heng Swee
colin-vian:

  Louis Jean François Lagrenée, Mélancolie
colin-vian:

  Marc Gabriel Charles Gleyre