Kaleshnikovitronicon

Kaleshnikovitronicon

Ample piglord cometh

Kaleshnikovitronicon

Like a sugar sweet muscle-Jesus riding boarback
the whores back
again unsleign in the rain again
lifting reigns, spurs a digdig into magic flesh
the beast underneath no will to breathe
in the wind and air and dirt
kicked up by hooves and incessant monkey distractionisms.

Left right left right left right
all tight and white
wet tshirt skills
ample and pert-icularly high on the treasure chest
she
being a flower, alone in a field. Loveless and sad...
Spies our rampaging hero.

Kaleshnikovitronicon

Ample piglord who has an old rusty bicycle, out by the wormfarm in the garden, which he never even used. The lazy moon.

Kaleshnikovitronicon

Squeals with tons of tongues. Wheels under crusty thorax calamity.
Heavier than the spikiest death metal logo boulder.
From a time before time was ever so old

Back on it.

New artwork at last.

Lions and Tigers and Holy Shit, what's THAT?!

CD cover design for the Double Handsome Dragons. This image represents the open package, the CD takes up the top right hand quarter of the square seen here.



FRONT COVER, when closed:

Beta.

It is tangible but harsh and the colours and shapes have a slightly hypereal edge. This world, despite it's all consuming glory, makes a cruel mockery of true nature. The faces are symetrical. The stories spit forth in a seemingly random chaotic foray. I'm in awe of it all. The glow of a lucid dream. Around everything. Its not real. It's not real.

The distant redraw of the horizon only succeeds in tightening the hood of claustrophobia. Beyond it lies the void.

Velvet.

Atoms collided all around, insects zipped in and out of existence while the trees breathed deeply in our presence. Whispering warm lullabys down into the world and nudging it's little sister into waking, the radiant sun slipped away. It's dwindling light, dancing in the glassy eyes of the velvet crowned peaceful ones. The story continued.

The spinning, roaring centre of the Earth pulled tides, clouds and countless souls around in a familiar frenzied ballet. Arms of galaxies reached out, fingers touched and new worlds were born. Every universe rode the spiral as it had for all time and would forever more.

At the centre of everything, teeth gently bit down, trapping tiny desperately fluttering words. A deep breath. A book mark in time. A polar shift. Then silence.

Something changed.

Sneaky...

peak at a monster I'm currently scribbling into life.


-- Post From My iPhone's shitty camera.

She grows heavy. She who's demands are as unforgiving as her touch. She who holds me tight in a tenacious tendril embrace. She whispers chemical trickery into me again. Free to do her bidding, I taste her eyes. Teeth clench. Blood flows. Fingers slip into a hungry and desperate suction cup delirium. Muscles tighten and swell, easing every cell into a sarcophagus of symbiosis. Her moan slips through me on silent owl wings. Tiny cold ghosts invade me...

My second Timelapse Photoshop video.

PHOTOSHOP CD COVER TIMELAPSE VIDEO (Deus Ex Machina) FREE THINKING DESIGN from Free Thinking Design on Vimeo.

My first timelapse video.

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I've got to get some shut eye.

Where's the sense in straining to interpret incoming fantastrophe fractals anyway?
The universe is infinite yadda yadda, the dark matters, yackety shmackety.

If you're going to not exist, you might as well have fun doing it.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

I shine lights into the fog.
Wipe the windscreen.
Find the perfect song.

I'm warm.
I'm dry.
I'm accelerating.
Insects slip unnoticed into the ether.

The road is wide and unguarded.
Nothing creeps but the pretty moon.

Then somethi.

Venus

I new piece of Photoshop work.

Never better

There's never been a better time
To not feel any better
There's never been any time.

I try to sing
but at every stab of the wire
every slick little cut
I slip and flail.

I wail at the moon through a hole in the roof of a silent room.

Heavy on the shoulders of the dog king.

_______________________s

Red Skeleton Hordes

Bring it on, red skeleton hordes. With your clattering crimson melodies. I hear you. Amongst the trees, behind me. Rasping wheeze cackles from unholy places. Carrying heavy hammers, facefixers of iron and a cat-o-nine tails. Sending snake spit skyward. I offer bare flesh for your dentigerous maws.

Looking downwards. Toes curled over precipice. The deep ocean below. Shadows hunger. Horizon beckons. Stars a glimmer. Galaxies fuck in the belly of the ever present tempting whore of the unknown. I'm hers.

Waterfalls.

The blossoming miscreant ascends from the depths of the mire. Child birth and sun death. Two cold stars, bound in beauty, offering endless nebula. She rises. Forcing cuckoo throat painsong from the wettest mouth. Words of wonder, splashing over milk teeth. A little medusa tongue seduction. She breathes. The willing flesh vessel rises. Waterfalls. Time slows. A moments perfection. She closes her eyes.

A ripping foray of ugly entrails scream through the meat and bone. Needle stab trickery. The dull ache of blood loss unfurls. A sad pain spreads forth. The pleads of a pseudo Lycanthrope, splash like vomit. Slapping gore into the Earth. Stains on sheets. Ultimate disappointment. Everything falls. She still breathes.

Pillar.

At first, complete darkness is all that there is. No sound but the wind. A howl with no teeth nor purpose. Hinting that a world does indeed still exist, the song would offer any witness reasurrance. Soon a light appears, giving form to it's surroundings. Painted into place, turbulant heavy clouds twist in the bony grasp of the sky fingers. Tearing slivers through to the moon. Sending blue lasers dancing over the carnage. Curtains part and music plays. A teetering, breathing mass of gore, quivers and squeeks on the stage. Some aspects of the ghastly composition in meat are recognisable as mammalian and hairless. Baby pink skin folds and pustular eye socket glory holes abloom. Animated in a spasmodic ballet, scatter marked with muted mouthes jabbering silent tourettic poetry. Craving the stormy void's return. A confused and desperate air surrounds the tragic creature. Tears mix with shit at it's base while pretty wet lips offer sanctuary to trapdoor spider tongues. Poised in their holes, encircled in yellow vapor. It knows not what it is, or what it should do. It is at once the glorious by-product of all that indulges and the glutinous flesh angel ascended. It exists to enrapture then disappoint. To dangle the whispering lure and seduce the naive, in endless circles through eternity.

When you return.

Outside in the Sunshine.
It's cold, without your touch.
Shivers shatter low in my stomach.
Pining for your eyes, with too many hunger tears aborted.
Over and over.
Yoyo back to me, I'll breathe you in.
Through every pore, into every cell.
Deep within.
Inside the inside of the tiniest idea of me.
I'll hold you.
With a thousand embracing arms.
Protecting you from the dark. Matters.
A tiny turquoise moth adored.
Light in my hands.
Among paper stars.
Forever.

Still breathing.

Despite it's blatant burden I've been doing as much as possible in this body:
This year so far, I've been to Paris, I've seen David Lynch's paintings, complete with teeny tiny flies in oily mausoleums, I've been to Amsterdam, I've experienced the concert of a lifetime; Sleepytime Gorilla Museum live in an intimate Jazz venue. I've ascended at 10ft a second in a 77000 cubic foot air balloon. I've had the best birthday ever. With my perfect girl. I'm having a good year, but what was painfully snug, now breaks all the tiniest bones of me. Pressure leads to frustration leads to low ceiling claustrophobia. I'm gonna fucking explode if I don't sort my shit out soon.

Words.

All the words I know of
are lightyears away from my tongue
to use old words, all used before
would steal from what has begun.