painting
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You think a tree doesn’t haveA soulJust like yours?Au contraire mon frรจre.They have them and they’re pure.Stop living in your own head and spendTime living in others’.Well, trees have no heads,But all of us have Mother.
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Just going to choose something at random on my hard drive and post it here.
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You loyal readers (and thank you very much) probably see clearly why there’s no point in me keeping a journal. I write about everything that happens to me and even stuff that hasn’t. I do not have to leave the house Today. I have to clean. Which I will do in due time. For now,…
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It’s hip-hop. My homie Matty Lane called me todayHe said, “Hey, there holmes. Whatchu got to say?”I said, I learned something man, the past is what you make it.If it still scars you then you better damn fake it.Don’t allow what’s gone to affect the ahead.Life might be short but you’re far from dead.
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It’s always been hilarious to me that “Impressionism” was born because Monet developed cataracts. This is about that. I want to paint like blind Monet.I don’t care what the people say.They’ll call it “Impressionism.”It will create a schismIn the industry between the layWho paint like blind Monet.And those who paint the gods at play. Commericalibility…
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I used to be a boy.In fact I still am.I never did whatever that wouldTurn me to a man.I have a childish innocence that never went away.They tried to ‘teach’ it out of meI didn’t care what they said.I’ve always trusted Elohim to guide me to the Truth.And They always have done it โcauseTheir knowledge…
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Echoes of a yesteryearAre just echoesโnot the real thing dear.The only real thing is the now.Live right there. Iโll tell you how.Just remember the past was lessons justTo teach you how to grow. Just trustThat God will never lead you down a pathFrom which you never can come back.
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I have to practice silence.Not natural to me.I make so much damn noiseThat I can hardly seeThat I am not this person.Iโm something thatโs beyond.And nothing here can stopThe journey that Iโm on.
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Donโt give in to fear, my dear.Fear will just confuse you.Bet on God, the odds are largeHeโll never simply use you.If ever you think you have strayedOr forget the pathโs divine.Remind yourself mentallyAnd let your own light shine.
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My banker is a wanker.A weird perverted spanker.I told him that I knew of thePonzi scheme investment.A necessary evilIt seems that most the peopleJust give those demons money, funnyJust to let them lend it.And charge enormous interest.The Bible is against this.
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Lost my leg in RenoIt was dancing in casinosDoing crystal meth and mustard gasWhile I sat on my ass.It’s comforting to musterThe majestic lunar lusterShe’s my museโthe Moon.I’m flusteredTo look upon her face at last.
Musings of the Mad 