Sing it like a Purple Bottle

My love for you is leaf green
as incense turns to incest,
deep within your forest
dark into the dead night.
Messy little bedroom
dust and dirty undies,
Sheets that turn from blue to white!

And your hair it is a monster
and I should like to touch it
creeping like a crawler
tortured little headache
your own self raising flower
like talons of an eagle
chop chop chop! here we go!

And sometimes when your grumpy
I like to sit and tease you
still you make me nervous,
keyhole which to peer through
Stomp all down the hallway!
Your footsteps are jurassic,
Thoughts awash all down the drain!

And your presence it is gift wrapped
like a little creature
I miss you when your far off
And every wolven feature!
But jump into my dark head
and we will run through my bed
like canines on adventure street!

$40

Pony Tales Designs                               

               - Trot to the sound of a different beat

Wolf + Fox

"Dont be silly" said the fox to the wolf, "I love you more than all the hypen heat of chicken chasings,

More than the stanken scent of dewy morning earth, 

More than the finest rarest cut of melting market meat. 

You're the only wolf for me."

"I love you too" said the wolf.

Home Is Where The Heart Is.

Nostalgia for a week before

A time thats barely past

A broken heart that beat before

a racer running last

A tortured tumbled twisted thing

with limbs spread all around

when flying with the bushly king

Fell foot upon the ground

And time it took her from that place

and ripped her from the thread

of history's woven tapestry

and tugged thoughts from her head

and worn were all her fingernails

and broken was her skin

and sad crept in her tiny soul

and let the darkness in

But with a high hot air balloon

and with a painted sky

and with the world around her still

she learnt instead to fly

with dollars as a ransom fuel

her head held soft and strong

all at once she found herself

moving time along

Then travelled halfway round the world

this happy whole embark

to where she heard her home call out

to where she kept her heart

and in these eyes of green it stirred

and in her hungry head

the past behind her crumpled up

the future loomed instead

a future of rich and deep desires

a pathway wrapped in gold

of exotic nature loud and bright

a story still untold.

And down she wandered like a child

and happily she bled

a swift and sweet and honest love

until her heart was fed.

       

        

painted print

Pony Prints

It Begins.

Screen printed two creatures with Julie today. They will be the first images on my ponytales tees.

Indian Wisdom

Fearlessness is the first requirement of spirituality.

Cowards can never be moral.

Mahatma Ghandi

Relics Drawn

He had her figured out. Staring at the sea. The light contrast to magic nights, Rays of colour break through cloud. Her socks are wet with salt. Not feeling, Knowing connection? A cold character on a clifface. Light colouring the pages. Brightness in her eyes. A pain that your not sure is real, stabbing at your side.

Max Ehrmann's "Desiderata"