Original photo via myeccentricity
Tag Archives: art
Will you Hate Me Forever, If I Told You The Truth?
Mm ba ba de
Um bum ba de
Um bu bu bum da de
Pressure pushing down on me
Pressing down on you no man ask for
Under pressure – that burns a building down
Splits a family in two
Puts people on streets
Um ba ba be
Um ba ba be
De day da
Ee day da – that’s o.k.
It’s the terror of knowing
What this world is about
Watching some good friends
Screaming ‘Let me out’
Pray tomorrow – gets me higher
Pressure on people – people on streets
Day day de mm hm
Da da da ba ba
O.k.
Chippin’ around – kick my brains around the floor
These are the days it never rains but it pours
Ee do ba be
Ee da ba ba ba
Um bo bo
Be lap
People on streets – ee da de da de
People on streets – ee da de da de da de da
It’s the terror of knowing
What this world is about
Watching some good friends
Screaming ‘Let me out’
Pray tomorrow – gets me higher high high
Pressure on people – people on streets
Turned away from it all like a blind man
Sat on a fence but it don’t work
Keep coming up with love
but it’s so slashed and torn
Why – why – why ?
Love love love love love
Insanity laughs under pressure we’re cracking
Can’t we give ourselves one more chance
Why can’t we give love that one more chance
Why can’t we give love give love give love give love
give love give love give love give love give love
‘Cause love’s such an old fashioned word
And love dares you to care for
The people on the edge of the light
And love dares you to change our way of
Caring about ourselves
This is our last dance
This is our last dance
This is ourselves
Under pressure
Under pressure
Pressure.
Word.
Tis’ the season of love is it not? I wrote a status a while ago. Then recently I wrote another similar to the first:
I really don’t care if you’re gay or straight.
I don’t even care of you’re slim or overweight.
If you’re white or Latino, black or Filipino, you know none of that stuff really matters to me.
Only thing worth knowing is God’s love, is free.
Then…I saw this and I had to share.
“It doesn’t matter if you’re atheist or Christian, Hindu or Muslim, straight, gay, transsexual, black or white, or anything and everything between. I love you. I care about you as people, as individuals. You are not targets to convert. You are people that I love and people I want to invest in. I want to love you in the best way I know how – and that’s loving you how Jesus does. Unconditionally. ♥”–Julianna Pardue
Many say I am an inspiration. I cannot claim that without feeling humbled greatly. But I will say love is indeed my greatest inspiration. And is the reason I do what I do. God’s Love. This is no preaching. Far from it.
Sometimes the very quote that you’re seeking out for inspiration…is in your very own heart.
Merry Christmas.
the title of this blog post was written by my wife Jennifer for a song we are writing.
The Winter Issue!
We continue on with lil Pemberton, the miscreant and resident human in the Forest That Screams…
Pemberton searched high. He searched low.
But he could not find his November Issue, “Oh! Where did it go?”
He has never before been so sad,
save for the day he wandered into the forest, oh, it was bad.
But since then he has found his home
among the ghouls and Gruns…and misshapen gnomes.
Something new and fresh now covered the ground
’twas white and clean and fell with no sound.
The eerie screams from the forest they cried,
“This is the day the keeper of the Forest died!”
The snow began to take shape it did seem,
and now lil Pemberton was beginning to gleam
that the form before him was that of a man!
“So this was my predecessor, the leader of the clan?”
Before they could answer, the spectre, he spoke:
“My, what a pudgy and pale little bloak*!”
Pemberton stepped up to the man, looked at his face,
“This is now my little space!”
“Very well!” the blue tinted man sneered,
in his hands it looked like a book now appeared
Pemberton forgot all about the man’s icey stare,
for now he had the Winter Issue…for all the Forest to share.
Click the brilliant cover.
Word.
*thank you, E.
Abuelo
Cruz and Tanís took the streets, Cruz with his radio in hand. Today was the day. Today was the day. Cruz had so much excitement inside he could no longer keep it in. He ran through the alley as fast as his legs would take him.
“Come on, Tanís! Hurry up!”
The clamor on Main Street got louder and louder. Cruz could hear the shouting and his smile widened.
Felizidades! Feliz dia de los muertos! shouted the people in the streets.
Holidays are fun. But for Cruz, this was his favorite. It was a day to remember those who had gone before him. His abuelo* past away only a few months ago. Abuelo would take him fishing, often, and would regale him with stories of the old days. He would recall to Cruz, whom he called with affection Cruzizito, the struggles he had growing up as a Mexican immigrant to the States-and Cruz loved him dearly. He respected him more than anything. His father had died when he was much younger, so Abuelo raised him up until his 12th birthday-the day Abuelo passed. Now he was alone with his little brother, Tanís .
But again, this was the day. He would surround himself with the people celebrating the day with their lost loved ones.
Cruz reached the street and the party was on. People dressed in the traditional festive clothing, men with suits and hats, some marichis and some catrins and the women, in their vestidas, very ornate and beautiful indeed. Others partook in the march to the cemetary in shorts and shirts but none could deny their commitment was genuine. They wore the make-up that was known worldwide-the calacas.
The louder the better! Con goso! They shouted. Cruz was ecstatic. “My feet hurt, Cruz,” Tanís said softly.
“Shh, mira.” Cruz pointed to the many in the streets, and the smell of delicious food filled the air. “Mmm. Abuelo, you smell that? Tanís , remember that was Abuelo’s favorite.”
Tanís nodded sadly. The eight year old lowered his head. “I miss him, too Cruz.” Cruz looked down to him and put his arm ove rhis shoulders. “When we reach the marking, you can help me clean and put some fresh flowers on it, okay?”
Tanis nodded.
The boys made their way to the cemetary and sat near Abuelo’s marking stone, in silence. People started in and out and the sun began to sit. “Abuelo,” Cruz began, holding back his tears. “I have an ofrenda for you. I hope you like it.” He picked up the radio and pressed play. It was one of Abuelo’s favorite songs.
The song finished and Cruz and Tanís stood up. Cruz wiped his tears and started down at the stone.
Nunca me voy a olvidarte.
That was Abuelo’s way. He wanted his stone to read that. To remind them that although he was gone, he would never forget. “Abuelo, we will never forget you.”
By this time it was dark and Cruz decided to head home. “Let’s go, Tanís . It’s getting late. Let’s go.” Tanís yawned and and nodded. “It was a really great gift you gave him, Cruz. I know he loved it,” Tanís said with a smile.
Cruz returned the smile and moved his hand over Tanís’ hair, tossling it a little. As they reached the gates of the cemetary there was a man with a woman walking by. Cruz nodded respecfully to the young couple, dressed exquisitely. The man had on a slim tailored suit and had jet black hair slicked back. He had no make up as many of the others had. The young lady had on a black dress with jewels sparkling all around. In her hair was a beautiful, crimson rose.
“Ha venido a traer una ofrenda, ninos?” The man stopped and asked.
Cruz stopped and turned. “Si senor. You look…” Cruz stopped short. He was in awe of how well-dressed and charismatic the couple looked. Especially the man. The man was tall and lean but looked very strong.
The man smiled. “Que es tu nombre , hjio?”
‘I’m Cruz and this is my little brother Tanís.”
“Bueno, mira. I have a calavera for you, hijos.” He reached in his pocket and handed Cruz a rather old looking pocket watch. He gave to Tanís a pen, embellished with gold.
“Soy un escritor. Tonight is a time to celebrate and give. So I give you these. Pasen buen noche, hijos.”
Cruz nodded, as did Tanis. They smiled at each other and turned to walk away.
“Abuelo used to be a writer, Cruz,” Tanís said with a big smile. Cruz looked at the watch and his eyes lit up. He stopped suddenly and put his hand on Tanís’ chest. A glowing inscription appeared on the back of the watch:
Nunca te olvidare, Cruzizito.
The glowing faded and Cruz turned around quickly, just in time to see the man smiling back at him, nodding and waving good-bye as he vanished into the night air, his lady catrina going with him.
Dedicated to my Welo Bruno Longoria, who went home, almost 17 years ago. machine.
##
Usually the image should accompany the story but this image is too amazing not to add it. It embodies the end of the story….vanishing from sight.
Matter of fact, it really fits in with a story I wrote called Una Noche Con Los Muertos, but I won’t reveal it just yet. :}.
Dia De Los Muertos by the brilliant PhatpuppyArt.
Thank you, Claudia.
*abuelo is grandfather.
Another calavera I have for YOU is this, the November Issue of Underneath The Juniper Tree! Read on share at will!
Be blessed.
Pemberton Returns to the Forest That Screams
When we last saw the boy he was waving good-bye to his family in the ville,
the thought of them afraid of the dark, well it just made him ill!
His story continues with a little poem of sorts
never mind the ghastly GrumGrum beast’s snorts.
♦
Tonight’s the night the ghouls and superhero’s feast!
On treats and goodies, some candy corn…at least.
They will come to the door, and don their disguises,
and better for their candy bag, if they should surprise us.
But one young man, oh, he has no joy.
He has no plan of action or ploy.
See though it be Halloween this night,
And the spirits about will come out to fright,
Lil Pemberton is not smiling, no he is down, he is forlorn
his spirit is remiss, yes, oh yes, it is torn!
for tonight is the last night he can sit and be free
Underneath The Juniper Tree.
The October Issue is going away, along with the dead,
and Pemberton is filled with such dread.
“But wait, young boy,” eerie voices team,
“Remember when you first walked into the Forest That Screams?
There is no need to cry, or pout,
or whine or to shout…”
The voices drew closer and ever closer still
The kind that could be break even the strongest man’s will.
It then continued in it’s haunting, dark speech
and now Lil Pemberton was within it’s cold reach,
“there is most certainly a reason to fear…
The November Issue…is coming, my dear.”
Matter of fact, the Issue is here! Read on and bedefrighted. |m|
Read the Halloween Issue as well, and also check this interview of Tex via Andrea Hurst & Associates!
♦
10/31> And of course what Hallow’s Eve would be complete without Ichabod Crane. We all now what happened to the poor Mr. Crane* so let us enjoy…happier times.
*or do we?
WORD.
#Winning, A New Contest And An Upcoming Issue
Hello all you writerly folk and beloved readers.
I really need to blog more than twice a week, right? It’s like I shared on Twitter earlier, if you think of a blog post topic, write. it. down. :}.
I digress.
I’d yet to share this here.
Underneath The Juniper Tree, the online children’s lit magazine specializing in horror and scary things are constantly challenging writers and artists in creating newness. That is, new stories and art and they do it in a way that makes it so much fun. Seriously. I’ve had a great time in just a short time taking part in some of these brilliant “go for it’s”.
Matter of fact I am honored and syked to share with you all that a submission of mine won and will be featured in what is sure to be one of the best issues-the Halloween Issue. The prompt was, basically, end the story with this line:
“See you in St. Germaine!” She laughed as her eyes clouded over.
I thought about it for a second or two and the idea came to me. And…it won. That really is awesome. I’d also like to congratulate again, artist and new Friend, Elizabeth Rose Stanton, or as I call her E, on her win for art! Thank you @UnderTheJuniper and JuniperTreeLit for choosing my words to be a part of the scary!
I’ve submitted other shorts and again, they’ve been really fun to write.
I’m syked about this as well:
A Thrilling Contest And Competition:
Literary Asylum, in cahoots with UTJT and Walden Pond Press are throwing a really cool contest and offering up some really pleasing prizes. You owe it to yourself to enter and do this. Check the link for all of the details and get in this.
I sat there for a few and asked myself, “Okay. What you got?” I answered with two paragraphs(part of the contest guidelines) and I really liked what I came up with. It was an exercise in writing, of course, but because of this prompt, I have since taken notes and started outlining/creating an entirely new book. I know, I believe, it will see the light…or night after the day. Word.
The upcoming Issue Of Underneath is sure to blow your mind…all over the wall. Check the September Issue and don’t forget to replace that night light bulb before the sun goes down.
Writers write.
Thwip!
Underneath The Juniper Tree
Okay folks. Have you seen the Nick cartoon Making Fiends? Well get that, some Shel Silverstein…then mix in some serious spook…and broil it at a temperature that will melt your face for four hours-you get Underneath the Juniper Tree.
This is one of my summer finds and it’s seriously cool.
Their contests are fun and challenging and lemme tell ya-they make me want to further my writing-all over again. I’m writing a horror short called Obey about kids and scariness…so this is perfect.
Did I mention the art? Continue reading