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Hey folks, just dropping off a quick bit of art. This first one is called "Rose Bud in Cream". The second is entitled "Purple Ice". The final is called "Engagement?". I suppose there's a romance theme here, though honestly I didn't do it on purpose. As usual I just played around until I saw something that struck me, and it's safe to say one inspired the next, so on and so forth. Hope you enjoy.   
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 "Mandarin Ducks" There'll be time to apologize After you realize There's no need for sorry. A chapter in the story Bittersweet to give it meat Enough to chew, Savor the flavor of blue Because dessert comes after. Is that hers, or my laughter? Always en route to disaster. From the first glimpse Heart skips, trips, and limps To the corner store for a porno cure -- Pump out the lust Only to lube the rust, And get the gears chugging, Especially when she's hugging. That's enough to inspire a desire To hold her all night Despite the closing bell, And smells of hell Promising to blight What feels too right, An echo that came back Better than the original. Ignore the infernal sigil We're dancing on, A kiss can't be withdrawn. Oh, it seems Pygmalion built her A companion Useful as a cigarette Smoked to the filter, So for now Butterfly lovers part Just as the show is about to start, But though star-crossed fucks We're a pair of mandarin ducks.  "Rather Than What's Wanted"
Ignoring the gaslight Ignite a tiny lighter, And by the glow examine Where the gas lamps end. Should the sights start to blight The field growing strong Shed tears for one night Raining on paper Printing drop by drop The tragedy of what used to be Easy to justify in the dark. The grime and slime Churned to twisted humor; The sewer rot Spritzed by a perfumer, And one spray for the eye To blind proper. However many pages Collect the lot To look back on When a wound needs salt To remind what's wrong. Then walk the streets Glaring at shadows Seeing what's hid Rather than what's wanted. Decided to sit down this evening, and make some art. Please enjoy "Fish in the Sea." It was inspired by staring at a concrete wall... I cannot for the life of me explain how my brain works.  Some evenings I go to a friend's house to have one more drink before the night is over. While there I tend to stab at the keys on his piano. That's how this piece started: 3 a.m. jabbing keys with a dog at my feet, and a beer on the piano. However, it evolved into something more than drunken dabbling. It speaks for itself better than I can speak about it, so press play and enjoy. |
AuthorJ. Rohr enjoys making orphans feel at home in ovens and fashioning historical re-enactments out of dead pets collected from neighbors’ backyards. Archives
October 2024
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