INKtober fourteenth

today i am empty
today i am nothing
cold
raw
chapped & chafed
a
chaotic void
my
desperation wanes
however
as i accept
my own
overwhelming
fucktardery
my
ridiculousness
today i am absurd
every day i am quixotic
perhaps
that is why
i survive
despite the desolate
corners of my soul
& the shadows
that creep & chill
my heart
my hope.

shout out to cervantes & picasso for today’s ink-spiration.
so, hey…i started this poem in a dark place. but as i was writing it, i was also doing yoga. i like to multi-task, y’all. anyhoo…the yoga seemed to help dislodge some of my zen blockage as it were…and i kind of ended on a high-ish note.
kind of?
i cannot recommend yoga enough for physical, mental, & emotional health. i don’t care what your flexibility or mental state is–yoga works. this is my girl: yoga with adrienne.  i love her. she has helped me out of many a dark & painful place.

hmmm…even though i used ink brush…i’m not sure today qualifies as inktober since i did not use ink pen? unless you consider that i wrote the text in pen & do consider my text an essential part of my art??

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INKtober fifth

what do you do
if you realize
you are still in love
with the person
you hate?
hey–
remember when you
were friends?
remember
when he was your best
friend?
wait–
why are you doing this?
why are you torturing
yourself?
is this just another
“i’m lonely & looking
to fill in the blanks?”
is this just your way
of never
healing?
what is it with you
anyway?
shouldn’t you have
gotten
over
him
already?
or…things like this
the lost forever
is it even
possible
to heal
that
wound?

so, okay, i’m already hell-bound, but i so love catholic art. and, you know, i noticed yesterday that the inktober prompt was “spell” and i did a picture based on swan lake–a fairy tale where people are under a spell.
and today, the prompt is “chicken” and i did a picture based on saint peter–that jesus-denying motherfucker.

blasphemy.
such a fun word.

anyhoo! my art journal inktober fest continues as i delve into that conundrum of feelings i have for my ex-husband. i love him…i hate him…i love him…i hate him. my roller coaster relationship.

do i want to try again? or am i just horny?
more at ten….

(is it me or do my boobs & mommy tummy look better when i’m hung upside down until dead?)

anti-versaries

ah crap. it’s september…such a wonderful month for fall smells & sights…and the anti-versary of
meeting my first big love/heartbreak/betrayal
marrying my first husband
& meeting my last big love/heartbreak/betrayal

no wonder i feel like a big bag of hopelessly crappy crap.

fuck you, september
(please stop being hot now & at least give me some 70 degree weather)

image from an art class…moses jones as an archangel, slaughtering dusy–or, you know, the devil.

phoenix rising

i realized something today
i am pretty fucking awesome
whether i’ve had
a beer…or two
or
am stone cold sober
whether my bathroom is clean
or the scene
of a toxic event
i am pretty fucking awesome
warts & all
literal & figurative
losing my mind
or all fucking zen
i am incredible
fantastic
amazing
think what you will
of me
but i am the only
one
who
knows for sure
i am
totally
fucking awesome.

after 250 self-portrait art journal pages (this is #251) in the past eleven months…it was bound to happen.
i felt good writing this…it was a bit harder to post as i am all, “what if i’m wrong? what if i suck?” but i totally felt it as i was writing it.
confidence.
belief in myself.
and it felt good.

navel gazing

you look so hard
into
your own heart
using
other people’s eyes
are you lovable?
are you beautiful?
are you special?
are you good?
are you a good person?
do you deserve happiness?
so much time
energy
so much of your own
heart
but you never
stop
you never
look up
& out
to see what is in their
hearts
& to wonder
are they lovable?
special, beautiful, & good?
do they
deserve
your happiness?

moses jones episode 3 page 6

here is another page. i am having fun with creating moses jones pages again. judging by audience participation (number of likes & comments) mojo is not nearly as popular as my other creations, but i love her–so i will keep writing her.
plus,
this comic is another way for me to work out my feelings as a mother, as an ex-wife, and as someone who used to live in a dysfunctional intentional community.
it’s kind of like my self-portrait art journal…but a bit more involved.

my warm bath of despair

i think
i sink
i find despair
so easily
like it’s in the pocket
i forgot to check
but
it’s there
no
matter
if i’ve forgotten
it
or if i am holding
it
close to my heart
eyes closed
breathing in
the familiar smell of
it
warming my cold hands
on
my
own
essence as it drips into
despair.

so i guess sadness is a sweater & despair is a bath? i sure like to immerse myself in my emotions.