TBF Features for the week of July 3, 2011

Hello again, friends. Hope that all of our US readers enjoyed your Fourth of July holiday festivities. Here’s our latest batch of sexy/hopeful/emotional art and writing, chosen by yours truly, Duffboy.

 

Believe in Kindness by 8upchef

Believe in the kindness of others
Believe in their intentions
Believe that there is no hidden agenda

Believe
That even now
In these days darker than others
That a person can show kindness
And then

Believe in kindness

 

My Lord Carpathian by Arcadia Tempest

Reload my arrogant heart
drink of it
if it will please you

My Carpathian Lord
I am not one of the in-tune
lacking of beat
a retracted tempo

Feast on me

Then
drift me to a figment
of imagination
when your savoring
in me is done

I will not remember
cast black eyes into me
slumber the memory of you
leave a vision of what lives amongst the hopeful

She wakes.
She remembers.
She sees in her dreaming a wayward witch who covets the fresh liver of the eye painter to bring color to her dead heart.
She screams.
They gather.
They will protect the painter of eyes.

© K S Hardy 2011

 

Contact (t-shirt) by Manana11

 

 

Pájaros Volados by dmcart

 

 

Inbox is full by msdebbie

My inbox is full
of messages I do not need.
My smile is full
of teeth which crack and bleed.

My memory is full
of words which say so much.
My outlook is full
of possibilities I dread to touch.

What should I say?
I feel empty.
What do I mean?
Nothing.

Something is missing.
I feel clammy with malcontent.
We are missing something.
My inbox is full.

 

Ryan by Jascie Epinn

I know there’s nothing I can say
to apologize for this.
And to be honest, it’s all I’ve ever wanted.
From Prom night
When a boy sang to me
such sweet words as we rubbed hips on the dance floor
“And I will never try to deny that you are my whole life
cause if you ever let me go, I would die.”
And I reveled in it
Those words were so delicate and delicious
But now, after promises having been broken
Bones and hearts and spirits past
Those words disgust me
They are empty, meaningless
Only connoted by displeasure and shame
So how dare you look me in the eye
and tell me that you love me?
It’s all so swollen with raw humanity
I don’t want them
Take them back
I don’t want to be your everything
I don’t want to be the one who is breaking your heart
I don’t want to be her
But I know there’s nothing I can say
to change your heart.

 

Goddess of the Mountains by David Mapletoft

 

 

the shape shifter by frederic levy-hadida

 

 

“Awesome” doesn’t really begin to cover it… by singerchick

If I could invent the words to capture the sunset
I’d fill a new book every night.
But even if I could create a language to do it justice,
I could never keep up with the glorious new hues God crafts nightly —
How much less could I begin to describe the breathtaking trail
Each saline drop etches from your tear ducts to my heart?

 

the radiant sun by hollyann

i have a soft heart
and as such
am easily
loved
and love

i wake up
with a radiant sun
in my mind
that fills the day
with the light
of joy
never to be darkened
by anything
or anyone

the radiant sun
of my mind
reflects
the radiant sun
of yours
and everyone
has this
buried deep
or shining
everyone
not one left out
not one alone
it just depends
on whether
it has been found
behind
distraction
behind
reaction
a peace that glows
there to behold

so look in
there it is
for you to
call upon
the radiant sun
the home of calm

 

Hat and a red rose by fotowagner

 

 

Sea of Flowers by Artof Morgaine

Features 1-23-11

I don’t really know what these features have in common this week. The images and writing just really jumped out at me. I think they all have a story to tell and a strong emotion to express. So here you go, this week’s features full of beauty, pain, and all that’s in between:

man
Untitled by Thomas Acevedo

A Walk Down Joshuas Path by Jascie Epinn

Two nights and a day had passed
when we walked along Joshua’s path
You had a cigarette behind your ear
Clearly you could see I was sad
about how we lost all that we had
But you couldn’t stay somber
You turned to me
Your heart in your lungs
And you took my hand
before you sung to me
to me…

And you said
What’s the kind of guy you dream of?
Who is he to me?
What are the kind of clothes he wears?
Cause that’s who I ought to be.
You said
I don’t know if I can find him
But I’ll try my best
I’ll turn my life around
and God will handle the rest

Three weeks and eight months had passed
when we took a ride down Joshua’s path
You had a look on your face that was unclear
Clearly you could see that I was mad
my hardened eyes were iron clad
But you couldn’t stay somber
You pulled over
Your mind in your heart
I turned my head
before you could start again
again..

And you said
What’s the kind of guy you dream of?
Who is he to me?
What are the kind of clothes he wears?
Cause that’s who I ought to be.
You said
I don’t know if I can find him
But I’ll try my best
I’ll turn my life around
and God will handle the rest

Four weeks and two years had passed
when I went walking down Joshua’s path
holding a letter ending in sincere
Because that day, I didn’t crash
but I’d prefer that I had
then maybe I’d forget about that summer
I knelt over
My heart in my soul
and placed that letter
near your bowl
and it reads…

And you said
What’s the kind of guy you dream of?
Who is he to me?
What are the kind of clothes he wears?
Cause that’s who I ought to be.
You said
I don’t know if I can find him
But I’ll try my best
I’ll turn my life around
and God will handle the rest

3 hoods
Sigh No More by Matteo Pontonutti

Drum Solos are Boring by Antonio Raymondo

Stop beating your own drum!
It’s a tiresome sound.
It rings hollow.
It’s got no rhythm.
Like your life, meaningless, shallow!

Stop beating your own drum!
It’s a terrible din!
You’re an empty vessel,
A pathetic charade.
Like a cheap Hollywood set,
A flimsy facade!

STOP BEATING YOUR OWN DRUM!
I can’t jam with that noise!
You’re like a spoilt child
Who won’t share their toys.
When will you stop beating your own drum?
Hasn’t anyone told you that……

DRUM SOLOS ARE BORING!!!

pagan
Sometimes When by Rowanmacs

The Master Drinks life’s Elixir by Blake Steele

Eyes wide open, mouth open,
hands grasping and releasing
the Master drinks Life’s elixir
and gurgles his delight.
In his eyes stars shine,
bears waltz, leopards prowl,
a horse kicks up and prances.
Upon the soft pink mountain
he laughs:
he gave up a kingdom for this,
the fame of a thousand worlds,
even the wild love of his heart:
that woman whose will
had brought down castle walls
and slain ten thousand men.
Someone had slapped him
when he came through the door.
He forgave the poor fool instantly
though something in his bones
would not forget it.
Blind fools! Insolent arrogance!
So much to accomplish here
in another alien world.
So much to do
as soon as he
outgrew his nappies.

hat
You can leave your har on by madworld

Re.Joy.Sing by Cynthia Lund Torroll

Welcome Home
to the place
that is inviolate
to the place
where patience waited
graciously…

The timing is meaningless
It happened –
The joining
of a lost soul
to her hearth
Manifestation
over Cacophony –
a wellspring of pure peace
rendering the outer shell
as window dressing
a tiny fraction
of The Life beneath…

She’ll reside there
without fear –
the impostor seen
and still loved
for all her heartfelt efforts
for all her machinations
she thought she knew
aWay but finally saw
she just had to
get out of Her Way…

The storm is over
The time is still
Sensations tickle
her outer form
She can laugh
She can be
She rejoices
and greets
each noble guest
each mystery
each thought cloud
with Her Beingness…

boat
Comfortably Numb by Carol K

Dark Wings of Night by Redqueenself

Dark Wings of Night

Darkness of the heart
from unexpected paths flies in.
The questions start
and the doubts begin,
flickering in the corner of your eye,
whispering a dark and wicked lie.
Soft wings of grey
flutter with the dawn.
The wolf hour floats away
in the brightness of the morn.
Quivering briefly, just in sight,
faith so hard to grasp at night.

girl
Sweet surrender by Strawberries

Forests of the Heart by Sybille Sterk

Bitter-bitter word shards
Cutting my lips to shreds
Dripping black ink snakes
Onto the pristine white paper
Shaped by the solicitous pen
Into syllables and words

Sing-song word notes
Dancing on the page
In undulating conga lines
From the left to right
Called to order by the pen
Into verses and rhymes

Pineapple-scented words
Flavouring the ink
With little bursts of lemon
Golden sunshine days
Forever engraved by the pen
Into minds and hearts

Pen in my hand
I get ready for the day
Exorcising demons
Banishing shadows
Sharing my heart
Baring my soul

Painting mindscapes
Sketching soulscapes
Growing Forests of the Heart

I am by Drew Trotter

It has been a while since I have posted other than my feature week. Thanks to Drew Trotter, I was completely inspired this evening, thinking about life, all that is, who I am, who we are, and how expansive human beings can be. Thank you, Drew, for giving a little spark to my internal fire.

I am

I am
a myriad of lives
in protest and ecstasy
swimming through new sources and dead ends
In excited, mutable advance
I move in my multitude,
one of the many of my masses.
Not deliberate as seasons change,
but a part of this whole
whirling and convoluted cohesion
forever in flux and dissolution, an endless dance
of revelry in mystery
I move quicksilver lucid dream
born in the wake of earth’s sleep
I double helix from gapped fissure, open wound
of primal mind’s breathing being
I am what I am becoming
more austere and less made
I paint the primal, my pictures and stories,
inflections of the sublime, illuminate the void
In a masquerade of images
etched into the circular curvature
of the communal psych-
An alchemical script, a map of lore
That is the allure, an infinite unfurling
Of mystical moment timeless in space, yet rooted
in the body, blood and heart of being…..

Features 12-5-10

If we could reach the farthest recesses of human memory, we would find that the Winter Solstice has always been a time for humans to look deeply within. It is a time of reflecting on your soul, and on the meaning of your life. I am often drawn to art and writing that contains bits of the esoteric, mythological, or spiritual within it. Although, one could easily argue that art and writing always contain these things because the very act of creating is a spiritual act. Nevertheless, this week’s work weaves myth and metaphysical light as we have entered the month of the Winter Solstice.

The first piece of art is of a raven. Ravens are the prominent bird seen at this time of year in the Northern hemisphere as snow begins to blanket the ground. It is no wonder that many ancient myths around the world have Raven as the creator. Raven comes out of the void of winter and helps to bring the sun back at the Winter Solstice.

Raven
Tulugaq by Lynnette Shelley

Primordial by Alenka Co
you emerged from the primordial ooze
with all the other life on earth
but your evolution had an interesting twist
that made you separate from all else

it’s not that you are more intelligent
don’t kid yourself about that
I’ve seen a raven make a tool from wire
to pull food out of a jar
and it’s not that you developed speech
I’ve listened to swallows converse
it’s something more intrinsic
that makes you strive beyond yourself
can it be that you alone are aware of death

you’ve searched for the meaning of life
in every corner of the planet
and now you’re off to the stars in your quest
what if the answers are not out there at all
but inside your primordial soul

This next piece of art has to do with the grail mysteries. It seems to literally represent the place behind the veil where our primordial soul originated.

grail castel
Monsalvat by angiandsilas

TIME’S CHILD by Cosimopiro

1.
In Time’s distant mist
I was born
a supple thought,
a floating
whimsical spectre,
the subtle whisperings
of Sleep’s
passing visions,
no spine,
no body,
colourless,
odourless,
without lips
to utter my name,
no eyes
to see my form,
no ears
to hear my breath,
without touch
to feel my essence,
and yet I pulsed
within translucent walls
in search
for substance
in the infinity
of that moment.

2.
I am
born from night’s soft crest
and gently suckle
upon Moon’s golden breast.

At Sun’s yawn
I crawl from dawn’s embrace
and play with shimmering colours
of first morning grace.
In midday’s blazing sight
I stand proudly alone
to finally walk my unknown path
and call it my very own.
When nightfall beckons with sleepy song
I rest my weary bones
and into night’s deep sleep I repose
clutching a twisted cane.

In restful slumber
I dream a dream within many dreams
of a time I visited a distant land
now all but a fading memory, it seems

I picked this next work because one of my favorite myths are the ones similar to the swan maidens and selkies. They are myths of beautiful faerie women that are swans or other animals but when captured by a human man they turn into beautiful women. There is deep symbolism in these myths of our desires and longings for union with our source. This image seems to capture that longing.

koi
Koi by Manolya F.

Our Design by Hector A. Encinas

Mannerisms change,
Opinions change,
Destinations change,
The past gets written and
The present slowly evolves,
Into the future.
men fade,
Into another blank page in history.

In the history of man
almost everything changes.

There are only
“strange”
Recurrences in between,
And there is
Sex.
And there is death;

Two faces on the same coin.
And alike,
Both equal

They are
Birth

And they are renewal.

Sex,
is the light of a new generation.
Death,
Opens the doors of perception,
Into our elaborate imaginations in which
We conceive
Our own design.

One of our greatest abilities as humans is our gift of transforming pain and sorrow into beauty. This next image shows that in an almost fluid-like way.

phoenix
Phoenix by SFlora

This next poem, well I can’t really tell you what it “means” and that is exactly why I love it. It seems to stir something in my subconscious and I put it with the last image because it feels dreamy and fluid-like too.

Undone but not done by Erich Biemer

crow is on the line about omens
omens of thumb prints
on red ochre skies
smelling of ghost blood

it’s hard to pay attention
as a neighbor vacuums
up another universe

as another brother,
black bear
performs a requiem
for the poles

too tired for an easy fiction
too warm i hang up
undone but not done
to tell him
the ghost blood is mine

Well there is no stronger image for this time of year than the image of the Christ child and the madonna. The birth of the sun bringing back the light into the darkness of our lives.

madonna
Madonna by Shanina Conway

Butterfly by Drew Trotter

I
Her life’s flame illuminates from within
The sanctum of your belly, your essence and hers, entwine
in an intricate balance of fertile beauty
your being and body nurture her fire.

II
Within the welling waters of your womb
our little butterfly flutters her wings and dreams
of life outside.

III
You are goddess, mother, full moon rising
to nourish and sustain the life of Lucy Lu, our baby
who emerges under the eye of Artemis
in high tide of the full moon dancing
through occluded February sky.

Sometimes I think that god is music and this next painting makes me feel that even stronger.

troubadour
Troubadour by Caleb Hamm

A Disclaimer of God for God by Blake Steele

There is a dead way to think about God,
a way of oppressive connotations:
a baggage ladened, bickering,
constrictive way; a gray way,
all pinch-nosed and guilt riddled
of an angry old man in the skies,
or of three prudish guys — the status quo
we’ve institutionalized.
I would like for you to set all that aside
if you can, and consider with me a second way:
a way of glacieral freshness, of deep belly laughter,
of love’s naked longing, of star spattered vastness
and the eruptive white spume of whales —
of delirious songs of birds drunk on berries.
It is about the greatest freedom you have ever known;
the wildest abandonment in beauty!
and a light that melts you
every time you see it shine in a human eye.
It is about the repose of a rose garden
in a face you instantly love…
and the greatest fairy tale of sacrificial love come true!
It is a Voice that captures your heart forever…

Or, being electric with life — like the Wild Christ!
Shaking your head in a dance,
refusing oppressive existence,
breaking open until you are brimming with life
— being crazy with love —
spinning in wild circles, singing
for no one — not even yourself —
just because you must sing to say it
and move in it, the eternal spume,
the gurgle in the gut: drunk and giddy,
angry and blatantly sober —
snapping the chains!
Passionate and flaming,
thirsting and howling,
green and all growing,
falling and flowing,
forgiving and free —
like a river!

When I mention the God name,
please know that I’m referring
to this second, more primal way

Okay, so that is it for this week. All I can say is Wow, you people inspire me and have brought the light into the darkness of my winter today!

brightest blessings,
Tammy, aka MoonSpiral