The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
See Through My Hands My palms taste the clouds and think of blueberry cream. Cobbler and clobber may be two different words, but both pack a hit. Does that explain why I no longer have fingernails? Reach, sun dog, reach. Run, sun dog, run. I may be blind, but I am not toothless or tongueless, armless or legless, mindless or dreamless. I have eyes so don't call me eyeless. Can you hear rainbows and smell butterflies? #Unreal #Poem #Blindness #Empathy #Compassion #Fingernails #Fingers #Hands #Palms #Feeling #SensoryDetails #Senses Visit our shop and subscribe. Sponsor us. Submit and become a contributor. Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
SidewalkLike my concrete seat. Cracked. Exposed underbelly. Green nude. I pray. Pen in hand. A rant to the deaf; a question. My colored spit. Chalked and tacky. A spread flesh display. Grey. Clouded over. Wet and scuffed white. My run off incites. Sewage. Drained. Guttered. Left for collection. #Unreal #Poetry #Photography#EleniKanakis#DenizZeynep#Exposed#Cracked#Imagery# Visit our shop and subscribe. Sponsor us. Submit and become a contributor. Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Untitled Him & Her "Untitled Him" , oil and acrylic, 30" x 40", 2012 I’ve always found nudity in art alluring due to the fact that society rejects public nudity, but celebrates nudity publicly through art. Exploring this concept lead me to research 16th century censorship in art brought on by the Roman Catholic Church. After learning of alterations imposed by the church on ancient Greek and Roman statues by way of having their genitals covered or removed, I was inspired to paint “Untitled Him," in 2012. This year, 2014, I’ve returned to the concept by painting “Untitled Her," which explores the contemporary religious censorship of the female body. "Untitled Her" , oil and acrylic, 30" x 40", 2014 #Unreal #Art #Paintings #Untitled #Him #Her #OilPainting #Nudity #Religion #Censorship #HumanBodies #BodyImage Visit our shop and subscribe. Sponsor us. Submit and become a contributor. Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Safari An American family went on safari in Kenya. They saw: wildebeest, lions, cape buffalo, vervet monkeys, elephants, a leopard, warthogs, reticulated giraffes, an olive baboon, mouse birds, dwarf mongoose, plains zebra, pink flamingos, and too many Thompson’s gazelles. The little girl cried because they had come all this way and not seen a rhinoceros. Her daddy apologized on behalf of all humanity for greed, corruption, and the inability of his generation to save the Earth’s natural heritage for hers. The ranger said the preserve had several rhino, but the tours don’t see them often because they’re such loners. It was better this way, because those animals are aggressive and wild. Didn’t the little girl like the elephants better? He didn’t want her to see the hornless carcass he’d found that morning or the guards posted near each rhino with their scary guns. The girl didn’t sleep that night, thinking of all the pictures of the pretty rhinos in her room at home. The father didn’t sleep that night, wondering if the guide was telling the truth. He continued to feel guilty and inadequate. They did not see: the moon casting glimmers on the watering hole or the ginger steps of the three-toed feet as the black rhinos came out of the bush to greet their friends and neighbors with sniffs and nose-rubs. As they ate, drank, made love, and checked in with each other, their horns glowed ghostly white and their black eyes glinted. The little girl might have cried to see that they were even more beautiful than her pictures at home. And when the sun began to color the sky a deep purple, they huffed their goodbyes and went their separate ways before the groaning trucks and shouting humans came back again. #Unreal #FlashFiction #CreativeWriting #ShortStory #Fiction #Safari #Illustration #Africa #WildAnimals Visit our shop and subscribe. Sponsor us. Submit and become a contributor. Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Spaces By Cynthia Abdallah QuailBellMagazine.com I was twenty when the mango fell from the tree I picked it up. Daphny was still young then, So I taught her how to track down the mirage And imprison it. I look at my hair Still rough and kinky Even though I use avocado oil in it. Although it has been a decade I just realized that the cactus In my garden still grows there I was twelve when my grandma died I fell to my knees and cried to my pillow I look into my closet At the same style and clothes I wore five years ago Abdallah is a Kenyan poet born and raised in Kenya. As a writer, her desire is to reach out to the readers with a voice that was once described by her mentor and professor as naive and vulnerable yet powerful and intricate. Her pieces describe experiences that make up most of her life in a language that is riddled by use of strong images and sounds that replicate a traditional African environment yet speaks to the global world. as a writer, bettering her craft and being able to reach out to the masses is her biggest dream. #Unreal #Poem #Poetry #CreativeWriting #Spaces #MangoTree #GrandmaDied #ThroughTheAges #PersonalGrowth Visit our shop and subscribe. Sponsor us. Submit and become a contributor. Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Memory and Dream Flags Old photos and illustrated dreams transferred on various cloth. #Unreal #Art #Patches #Fabric #MixedMedia #Memory #Dreams Visit our shop and subscribe. Sponsor us. Submit and become a contributor. Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Cassandra I tell the man of his disaster He should listen, my advice to heed. Cannot he tell that I am master? “Listen, miss, for worry there’s no need.” A cursed life I shall always lead. No one ever listens to my facts. My prophecies denied as soon decreed, Soon enough it is a life they lack. So I know the ending of his tale: History repeats, one more shall fall. Believing my help must always fail, And I know the outcome of it all. #Unreal #Poetry #Photography #NaomiYung #NeelyJohnson #Prophecy #Tragedy #Unbelievable #Cursed Visit our shop and subscribe. Sponsor us. Submit and become a contributor. Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Tyranny of Conscious Thought Stars white on the beaded sky, parchment dry, Are shimmering kites, held in fat fingers and taking Off, the shifted waters where the trees, joined, lie Motionless, delicate as a swallow's flight Hissing morning alarms crack the oasis The brain snapping the pipes of the room together, Coordinates of walls, pools of old light, shut doors Memory saddling that escapade of reality The dates, the calls, the texts, tweets, tormenting The mind’s once sacred ability To not function Snooze is a tease, a rear view glimpse. Pulling God’s wrist to get just one more swift inhale Of the waterfalls and glistening emerald leaves of Eden Before the inevitable takes its daily hold Around the throat of the world Of responsibilities, finances, careers, love affairs But just a whiff, the crystal trees fall into the cobalt lake Mercury, dripping, pools at the hairline Of thought, in the margins of the mind Lowering the gates of the mind, relieving The pressure of conscious thought Just let me hit snooze again. Let me levitate in the parabola Rather than make sense of it In this sleep of reason #Unreal #Poetry #SarahSchwister #ElizabethGilliamHedgepath #Dreams #Sleep #WakingLife #Consciousness Visit our shop and subscribe. Sponsor us. Submit and become a contributor. Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Sister and Brother Blistering romanticism, Pretending that it’s true, Forgetting the absurd Rules over me and you. Peacock squawks sillily Confused as plaid and stripes, Pecking for a true love In the middle of the night. Monkey grabs the bicycle, Pedals into town, Finds a little honey, To bring his fire down; Love showers ‘round us, Rain kisses the Mind, Let your soul run seamless Into Hers and mine. We all love each other Realize that it’s true, Sister and brother, Most perfect love through You. #Unreal #Poetry #AndrewJenkins#ElizabethGilliamHedgepath#OneLove#Brothers#Sisters#FeminineForce Visit our shop and subscribe. Sponsor us. Submit and become a contributor. Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Don't Be Cruel Painter and video artist Bri Cirel received her Bachelor's degree in Film and Media from the California College of Arts. Bri is currently building a collection of oil paintings, while also pursuing video arts in the form of no budget music videos and time lapsed painting shorts. Painting out of Los Angeles, Bri worked as a resident artist for a movie prop house in Hollywood where she painted decorative works and designed custom dressings for set backdrops. #FeaturedArtist #BriCirel #Deconstruction #Art #Paintings #Don'tBeCruel #Elvis #HollywoodSets #HollywoodStudios Visit our shop and subscribe. Sponsor us. Submit and become a contributor. Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter. |