Fragments of shattered mirror strewn about the loft. Papers tossed as if a hurricane had swept in challenging a night stalker. The devastation abandon, left for an unsuspecting arrival to discover finding only shock as if a bare wire sparked as it dangeled from the ceiling. But what was it that actually happened?
Sometimes it hard to distinguished between fact and fiction. The lines cross over between creativity and insanity. So who draws the line? Who can actually say………………What is true and what is only in the reality of the minds deepest dark corners of escape.
“Please click home and read on……”
You decide what is real and what is not.
Does the artist/writer become his work? Is it a self-fullfilling prophecy to become their vision.
Does the artist manifest his own success, his own demise?
Could it be strickly entertainment, food for thought from the corner of ones mind?
Thanks for stopping by enjoy the journey
They say for every action there is a reaction. These actions create collateral damage.
As we have seen over the last week with the Boston Marathon Bombings and over the last year with the increased terror inflicted on school children and everyone alike, sadly collateral damage, Takes it toll.
The following blog site is a compilation of art, wood sculpture, social commentary, and free verse poetry. Fiction, non fiction, and many images of art throughout the entire series of over a hundred-fifty interconnected and related blog posts.
There is something here for everyone.
Nominated with a Most Versatile Blogger award and also a Most Inspiring Blogger Award.
I hope you too may find something thought provoking and inspiring or maybe a spark may be lit in opposition.
Click on HOME or scroll down to enjoy the series of poetry, or the” Corner Diner” Series of passion, The Passages from” Imitating snowflakes” 1 through 27 entries, also blogs of free verse prose and art images. Hoping to avoid collateral damage and some pieces a result of collateral damage.
please read on,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, thank you Rodney
The knife thrust again and again into the board.
The butcher knife digging deep into the two inch thick game board.
Ripping into the numbers dividing them, separating into units of different measure, now altered in time and space for infinity.
The repeated stabbing of multiple numbers, driven by madness appears to be a shear psychotic episode of truly deviant nature.
The wire bounces on the board helplessly as the mutilation continues violently without restraint. The game board penetrated more then a hundred times it appeared.
The knife digging in again and again as the screams of rage hallow breaking the silence in the dark of night.
The cutting, the stabbing, the dissecting, of a game board sobbing with insane jealousy as the knife does irreparable harm, the damage forever taking its toll.
The march madness wails through the night.
The dart board severed, destroyed in a fit of rage as if it was the face of the one once loved.
The numbers 20, 19, 18, 17 and so on respective dismembered as if in a game of cricket gone terribly wrong.
The patient says to the therapist, you know it is usually the client who is the last person to know they are crazy.
Joking the client laughs, its march madness and its more than just a game.