The right words


Avoiding serious artists

Pretty Blue Gun

I’ve always hated lectures. People in suits all nervous about public speaking, me in ripped jeans with frozen legs, waiting for it to be over so I can go smoke a cigarette. I wouldn’t have attended this one if I didn’t have to. To be honest, I would have much rather been eating a hamburger or watching a movie or something. But I was forced to attend, along with the 20 something other kids in my class.

They try to make it all so professional. It was a design lecture, for Christ’s sake. There’s absolutely nothing professional about what I want to do with my life- draw pictures for a living. We draw fucking pictures for a living. It’s a fun career. And yet we hear these people calling themselves “serious photographers, serious illustrators”. That’s like calling someone a serious clown. There’s just nothing serious about it.

And yet, the…

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Little Lights

Going Sideways

Little lights twinkle and sparkle
In the dark sky
I can’t tell if my eyes are open or closed

I am dizzy from too much wine
I am seeing vague shapes and forms
I can’t tell if my eyes are closed or open

I can see you in the distance
You’re running towards me
Which is an impossible dream
Closed or open there are tears in my eyes

Little lights sparkle and twinkle
In front of my dizzy eyes
You’re running towards me
I close my eyes and begin to cry

— GB

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Meeting Place – N. E. Skull

poetry by skull

Picture 47

Let us get our stories straight,
I saw you there across the bar.
I dared to ask you on a date,
And six weeks later, here we are.

I met you at the driving range.
You marveled at my swing technique.
You said you found it rather strange
And now we play four times a week.

Or maybe on a busy train?
I stood so you could have my seat.
We both stepped out into the rain.
Such a romantic place to meet.

When people ask us how we met.
we won’t say “on the internet.”

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