Invitation to the Mud Pile

In the south, the rain comes
Like breakfast’s call
And the grown-ups frown is our joy,
Mud-pies
Mud-piles
The glee upon our darkened faces,
Cannot compete with our childish hearts.
The gathering of friends
Both true and not
Is beyond the adult functions
Of whither
And not
Our happy faces
Bequeathed to none
Simple grace
Without the sun
I gather dirt within my hand
As others
Follow with swallowed land
Giggles are the gift come nigh
Swallowed gulps of freedom
Lie
I sit inside this puddle of mud
Remembering the past
Both
Yea and Nae
Alone with mud piles
Sunk alone
Remembering pasts
With struggling horn
Come hither friends
Enjoy the mud
Squish between your toes
Press upon
Throw it out
Oh.
I forgot
We’re all grown up.

"To everything there is a season..."

I'll start out by saying that I spent a tremendous amount of time on this.
I have a hard time doing "funny".
Maybe because I am a serious person,
or that I am troubled by the world we live in.
I chose the idiom "To everything there is a season..."
It is both a direct quote from the bible

To every thing there is a season,
and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to get, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
A time to rend, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate;
a time of war, and a time of peace. ______________________________________________________________________________________and a famous song.

To every thing,
turn, turn, turn
There is a season,
turn, turn, turn
And a time to every purpose
under heaven
A time to be born,
a time to die
A time to plant,
a time to reap
A time to kill,
a time to heal
A time to laugh,
a time to weep

To everything,
turn, turn, turn
There is a season,
turn, turn, turn
And a time to every purpose
under heaven

A time to build up,
a time to break down
A time to dance,
a time to mourn
A time to cast away stones
A time to gather stones together

To everything,
turn, turn, turn
There is a season,
turn, turn, turn
And a time to every purpose
under heaven

A time of love,
a time of hate
A time of war,
a time of peace
A time you may embrace
A time to refrain from embracing

To everything,
turn, turn, turn
There is a season,
turn, turn, turn
And a time to every purpose
under heaven

A time to gain,
a time to lose
A time to rend,
a time to sew
A time to love,
a time to hate
A time for peace,
I swear it's not too late

While working on this I tried to show the good and the bad,
starting with a calendar background
and then an image taken by my brother on an airplane,
so that the backdrop was of the heavens.
Each segment is representing the astrological sign for the month,
the seasonal weather
and a good/bad caste.
Because so many layers were involved,
the end result is somewhat disappointing.
I had to reduce so much that I feel my message seems lost.
Still it was a very rewarding experience
that I will use for painting concepts.
This idiom project helped me to find the beauty
in the overwhelming ugliness
that pounds us through the media.

Idiom Complete

My Idiom Project Part 9 of 12

Thumbalina

My Idiom Project Part 2 of 12

My Idiom Project Part 8 of 12

My Idiom Project Part 5 of 12

My Idiom Project Part 4 of 12

My Idiom Project Part 3 of 12

My Idiom Project Part 6 of 12

My Idiom Project Part 7 of 12

Once

At the srike of the time-keepers
Gong
Who I was
Is all but gone

Seasoned lines
And well earned gullies
Find the me now
In tick tocks
Backward
Chime

My Idiom Project Part 1 of 12

What is the Idiom?
Contrasts?
Messages?

PARIAH

Pariah,
We too
False-
Hood

Out
In and Out
Doors
Hearts
Spools
Cores

Found, the essence
Playground times
My Mississippi Buddy
My Pal-o-Mine

Depth so Rich
And heart Encumbered
Falling Down
Astonished
Lack of true
Sock it two

A ride upon a wooden raft
Cast
Caste
Stabled the past

Fallow is the skin of shock
Tallow,
Sallow
Not Yellow
The paste of Jello
Foreign Mask

Treble tones
Wailing sows
The Once
So Mighty
Jellied plows

I creep amongst
A Pariah Past
The one and only

Place of belonging
Dais of
Longing
Huck and Thom

Boys and Girls
A tale of tests
Cannot pass
Splendid Tales
Of suckered
Puckered
Painful
Pasts