orange_yellow

senseless art of a tortured soul

Sunday, June 05, 2005

red robin


grand_uncle7
Originally uploaded by lunaero.
he was flambouyant like the mustangs of 1954,roaring away on route 66,leaving sand and dust behind.he swings and sway to the rumble of ol blue eyes,the wail of trumpets of luis armstrong,the smooth ,suave voice of dean martin.Blowing in the wind,bobbie boy said; i'll love you forever my beloved grand uncle sang for he did have a voice of thunder and bass , he grab the cup made of pure silver piuter which looked like the oscar's man.he sang this song to pursue his love, now 65 years later he sang it to her again on one lunar year as we watched, in awe and tearful eyes as his smooth, powering voice echoed the room of yellow lights and yellow walls,with chinese artworks aligned single file,
the red robin has rose again.

celluloid gibberish


COVER
Originally uploaded by lunaero.
have you ever imagine a world without the idiot box,no noisy blabbers, no annoying bloopers, no cheap shallow male chauvenism imagery,no cheesy pick-up lines,none of those rubbish which inflates the very centre of the mind.such peacefulness,such contentment.i despise the world of media,cold like the grey mountings of stainless steel chroming the less fortunate with make-believe happiness.all is non existence, all is made-up to blind the innocent.the giants behind these screens are evil, manupilative as the foxes and the weasels.They wear red flowing cloaks and black knee-high boots with metal claws jutting out from the edges.They wear black face-like masks, to hide their tainted faces, bruised by fear,shame and ignorrant bliss.They stand tall with gargantuos metal sickels being held by their side,they ride on black metal wings which carries them from mountains to oceans vast.They fear no one big or small,tall and short..they are only afraid of themselves.To look inside of them for they fear what they see might scorched their eyes, of dark hollow sockets and morbid density.Though they may rise and stand before me now, but i must not relent to them.For they are weak in so many ways,they are like mice lost in the fields, being hunted down by the great bald bird.I pity them for what they have lost but i hope not to end up like them for i rather have happiness and a 1/4 of fame than to have none of life.

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