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ART and WORDS

By: Steve Kulaga

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PaGe 1 •

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PaGe 1 •


Art and Words Vol. 1 •

ART and WORDS

By: Steve Kulaga

PaGe 2


PaGe 2 •

Snickers and Cranberry Juice I circle the square knowing that everything is nothing, I dare you to speak your mind with all of us rushing,

It's getting colder day by day and night by night,

While notching the notch digging deeper and deeper,

The inflamed horizon expands my delight,

Unrevealing the secrets that keeps intact the sleeper,

Running through the darkness and

I can reminisce the sentences of Silence,

Dodging what's around me,

The echoes blaring behind me with signs of violence,

These inevitable sources of energy,

With memories of farewells to the gates of hell,

Don't you see?

Is this all an illusion before me, I cannot tell.

All is real, but what is to believe,

I cant wait for the vanishing light,

Everything I conceive, is nothing

But its just another dead end out of my sight,

More than a ball peen.

I look beyond the mirror, I look deep inside of you,

Hammering the heads of distinctive commissaries. These eyes may speak Insanity, but my mind believes it true. I don’t think, But who's to say what I need? I remind myself of all the promises and lies, Lifelessness is embodied in all of our souls, Making up the world but with only a single bad side. Keeping everything up to par like on the fourth hole. So go ahead and take this life, I don't need it where I'm going, There's nobody patrolling,

I dont know.

Everything is missing I haven’t any competition.

These needlessnesses are useless to me. My dreams look real even when I see. Ready to fall along side the assassins of delusion, An eraser sweeping the freedom to confusion. We're never getting closer to winning, we're always losing.

Too Often do I see the mask, and not the Devils Eyes, Staring straight at me with a wrath of disguise, I contemplate whether or not this is a dream, The saints of destruction is all that I’m seeing, Trust is just a portrait of all the disappointments, Never regretting the problems or organizing justice, The aftermath is coming, breathing over and over,

But it's the way it is, so open your ears up, And listen. I met at the junction, whereas The others were in function. I clasped on to the railing with a suction. All of a sudden there was an eruption. Optical illusion, confusion, Whose using,

I’m winning,

Your Losing.


What is this thing and what does it do, How does it work and is it so true.

Art and Words Vol. 1 •

TICKTOCK

Can it be real and can it be seen, Is this part of life a reliable thing.

Some say it is, Some say its not, Some say who cares, And don't give it much thought. But what is it really and what can it be, If I had the time I would look so to see.

BEDTIME B ed is a place where you lay down and sleep. It is also a place where you can count many sheep. But very

many know,

It is a place for feelings too,

And thoughts that are also, Often brought upon anew.

D reams come along the way to seeing never land, Establishing a place untouchable by the hand. But if the feelings are grasped, with a closed Fist. You will wake up tomorrow and remember what it is.

PaGe 3


PaGe 4 •


Golden twirled necklaces, beat up burden baskets, Count your fingers twice, twiddle em up in caskets. Bite off your nails, necromancer status Lift the seat up, but dont forget your baggage. ž

Analytically careless.

Starbucks stackers and bookworm witches, Glove in my wallet to re-sew the stitches. Lamp post levies, and hallway lockers, Hanging stickers and posters, and meet Gaylord fockers.

ž The crust soil leaks like a broken faucet, The moon cries to the distant clouds. Reach into the closet, pick out a hitler outfit, The clouds moan to yonder trees. Stash folded eight, seven times she says, The reflection in the lake is clear to see. Rummage through fields and filter off the edge. ž Hands held tightly, fingers crossed and interlocked. A drip of wetness fills the wrinkles in the palms, But still tightly they remain, Nothing can separate true loves pain. Forested free loaders fasten their seat buckles, ž Car crash immunity caravan driver chuckles. Flower pot protagonist, Picking pastor premises defeating purposeful pennies, Dirt soiled piece of shit, Wrecked winged wrapping paper, and monastery enemies. Runnin a muck afar the cathedral. Hurt honest speckled people. Jarred pickles getting jacked, Dalmatian doorstop wiggles, Stolen thieved and robbed, Flicking the finger but not at the needle. Return policy negative, rotten awkward slob. ž Pointer pinched and drive decked pest, Syringe your life away, Bench press pretty boy, with a flack jacket chest. Die younger than tommy today, Post modern be bop bastards ticking their pixels grey. Contrasted cures to be blasted beyond reason, Fuck what you heard, hearings like treason.

Art and Words Vol. 1 •

Blasphemy, Wretched ring wraiths, Striking the cymbals, Symphonically nimble. Hi hat, bass beat, Tap dance, tap feet, Mirrored photographs, Self portrait of me, ž

ž

ž ž

POWERLESS Compassion ž

PaGe 5


PaGe 6 •

Darkness travels FluIdly, Recurrent dreams of screams, Things that we know of not, But it knows of us.

It knows when, but not how, Dribbles of cold water crescent the inner sanctum, Not like dew, but like blood.

Blood thats purple, not left in the patient. Darken than shades of it, the hue is saturated, Eliminate the focus, tear off the headdress mantle piece.

curled away in a place without time, corruption entangles, Space is irrelevant, it limits the mind. your mind and being, Piercing screams of negligent batters, `Seamless entrapment is all tat is seen. Manifest destiny is all that matters. Reflag. replenish and reduce your


constant relative noises banging drums, Tempo and pitch switch rugged time. Lastly, never come back,

not here, not today.

Never do it,

never cared,

enough to fight.

emotions, They don’t matter here. Noticeable notions like a floor of an ocean. Shimmers shine past your speckled eyelid, of courageous fantasy.

Art and Words Vol. 1 •

creased letters, Illegible,. stained with beans, Burned EDges, Piracy is illegal, who cares. Toeless and fingerless shoes and gloves, Bloody knuckles and Greasy scrubs,

Whats The pOint Of Anything

PaGe 7


• •

R

•• • • •• • ••

espected rebel ass hats, Late night showcats, Forged among formidable soul paths,

Crypto maniac killer carcasses Living in the streets like street rats. Memory chips monitored, Data base detachable, Enemy of the state, Eating People Like Hannibal. Cd cover lashed with clear plastic paper, Stickers removable, but with only lacquer thinner. Brain cells dead, one by one, Sniffing the rag, inhaling the fun. Light up the darkness, drafted dilly daddle, Old school elementary beating with a paddle. Trash can header, smells like French toast, Maneuverable manholes, stung across the coast.

• • •• •

PaGe 8 •

• • • •• •

Too late to question, time is almost up, Click clock timer seconds, heart seemly erupts, Photo shot of pill downer Dennys pants, Color inside the lines, with unsharpened crayons.


ou seem to give it your all, But still after time, everything tends to fall. No mention of a source, But a tale thats tall, No invoice, no baggage, Just a name, and a heart full of ravage.

You hit the notes in order, From major to minor tone, Complete song lists monitor your mobile phone, • • Exactly what I thought, •• • No knowledge without the chip, • Inserted in your head daily without a slip. • No more memory, just all in the hands of god, •• Creation is equal, but is it all really.

Art and Words Vol. 1 •

Y

••

PaGe 9


PaGe 10 •

Gone ď Ś

All hope is gone, I keep moving on, ButJust want to stop, I cant take it much longer. All hope is gone, I need to rewind, BeforeI run out of time, Im losing my mind, NoIm not fine,Im not okay, I need to live, ButIm dying more everyday, It seems like,I need something else in my life, I dont know what, ManI dont know why, I even try,I mine as well give up now, This is the last time thatIll be broken down. Gone.All hope is gone. I start anew, ButI dont choose to, Realize what ive gone through, WhatIve been through, Its like nothing to you, I dont care, its what you do, Its not what youve done, But for me, thats what you see, To you the past is everlasting. Nothing changes,Its all the same, But now im to blame,Im the one whos insane, Its all a game, you won, andI walk away. I cant let you go,Im still afloat, I know theres still hope, But its lost to you, A second passed byAndIm a ghost to you, Invisible me, Like a poster view. Flat and unreal, This is howI feel, Its unchanged, But mine is still the same, Yours can find mine, Thoughts can be rearranged. But in the end, The hope does not remain.


Hope

What is hope, Is it a rope, Tied around your throat. While your on a stool, Feet tip toed. Ready to slip any minute, But your friend comes in, Too late though, Your hanging dangling froze. Spinning kinda slow, Guess thats not hope so. Or is it pain, Driving you insane, So insane that the pain is eating veins, And everything that keeps you sane, Is gone and gone the same.

Art and Words Vol. 1 •

ď Ś

Or is it life, Life is what exactly. Is it living everyday, Like you lived the last one happily. Or is it like the one you dream of, Picket fence and children running. Its not life. Is it death. Living for no tomorrow, Like today is yours to borrow, Make a deal with the devil, And you live, but live in this hell hole. Hope is many different things. For each person it seems, But for everyone Happiness it brings.

PaGe 11


PaGe 12 •

A Mirror and A Fist

One without pain, knows not of the glory,

But only a slight sliver of shame upon he. Cast out with no one to converse, But only the shadow that is made by his overlooked mind. Only the faintest fragments of words make the overturn, Now only if the words were seen as they were meant, Captured like a prisoner he feels when said. Quarrelling for time that is left up for grabs, I snatch it up, but fail to hold it above, It is blasted out of my hands by

Misconceived

words...

Ones that meant no harm, But caused quite the wound. Must I say that I will do my best as to avoid these confrontations, And if so sucked into one, I will hope to be forgiven.

When A Seashell Reaches The Seashore

I

finally Found what I was looking for. Like a Glamorous Shell cast upon shore. With a smile that numbs, And a face that blinds, I want to be with you All of the time. I dont have to hide, what is all but me, I like that the most, because its open and free. You make each day, one to remember, And with every one, they get better and better. You make me feel special, like no one has before, And thats because you are, but even way more. When dark shadows are cast down upon me, Your brightness takes over, with your face full of glee. You make me laugh, and smile, thats always the best. The cute things you do, even I am impressed.


I like to think that one day I will not have to Act as if Im Sane.

One Day where all will recognize that they are the Crazy ones. I am just but a simple man, with values that put me apart from others. I used to be unhappy, but as time has progressed, my unhappiness has turned on itself. It is amazing how one person can make a difference to how you go about your life. I look at how I was, and how I am now. There hasnt been much change in me, but change in what there is to be done. The future is open, Yet, closed in so many ways. The ways of closing are just of slight problematic misconception. The openings are small, and require a tight squeeze. Like Killer whales in the open seas, I swim in the Warm Nights Of the Summer Breeze.

Art and Words Vol. 1 •

Killer Whales and The Warm Nights Of Summer

PaGe 13


PaGe 1 •

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Art and Words