Art, Digital drawing, Life, meloncholia, Personal, poetry, reflective

FTM.i

Foreword.

Speak my mind,

Unload all my pain,

Shit on this brain.

That it keeps that Amtrack starts way from Albany,

Then it comes to that junction of Tallahassee down to Tampa,

And keeps rocking to San Diego.

Tracked tears that never goes anywhere,

Tracks of my tears that smeared from Ontario to Brazil,

Then I shall dive into that lake,

Where all the air extinguished at Death Valley into the shores

Of Tunisian nights.

Then I shall be looking over Luke’s Twin suns.

 I shall remain who I am,

I can be,

I shall be,

And still be me,

All these times that was and can never be,

When I left her,

Without even an eye of goodbye.

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Art, Digital drawing, Life, meloncholia, Personal, poetry, reflective, relationships

FTM.

Dedication.

To my brothers.

The ones who have or might have done something,

Get as with what my parents did.

What could have prevented,

Either contributed

Or attributed to my own devices of what,

Can, would,should, shouldn’t, or might have it at least

Tried all efforts.

But so is the love of somewhat friend than a brother

Ought to have been.

So run and have fun all you can,

Come home when there’s no one to go to.

Come home when you need someone to give your mindless excuses of lives.

Then a mind can only imagine and establish where and when 

the heartaches,

betrayals,

confusion,

Thus only help at such dire and emergency response,

Then make it normal after it all happens,

And expect all to happen and keep saying,

 “Appreciate what you can,

Be positive,

Be happy.”

 I guess I can be,

Coz these two were always not even contented with all their money,

Status, wives and children.


At least I have successfully succumbed into my truth,

Not theirs,

Not theirs. 

Art, Dickinson, Digital drawing, Influences, poetry

Free the mind . . .

Of the love that was

Of the time was

All the longing of dwelling on and the 

Past that flew in and out

Of the life that spent on 

Reclusive state,

Repetitive mindless dribbles and squabbles,

Prideful grudges and stoic cynicism.

So it seems any of somewhat vices that held or lost,

Then please do held your senses responsible,

Not your behavior,

At least admit it to your attitude,

Unless it was intended,

Unless it was intentional,

For it was the brain all along that held you,

In all that was,

Can you try,

Just to adjust but not change,

Your cellulite and the scars that held you in pain,

And bathe in the rain.

abstract, Art, Digital drawing

FTV:eoc.Ch1.

Back cover synop.

Love of a boy that loved every girl he wanted to lay, yet all of them and

Still currently under the spell of unrequited love. How a mere mortal can 

Have an understanding of the real truth of what he thinks and surely theories

For tested for his sake. Only one hope remains for him. . .

That there is another, that she will or would, if she does take mantle from her

Father.