|October Is For Members Self-Portrait. If You Have Not Submitted A Self-Portrait, This Is A Good Time To Do So. For Our Benefit, The Self-Portrait Does Not Have To Look Exactly Like You. It Can Be An Image To Represents You. It Can Be A New One Just For Us, Ore Something You Already Have.|
You Can Read The Self-Portrait Literature From Our Writers In The Members Self-Protraits Folder, HERE:humanconditions.deviantart.com…
|More Journal Entries|
|Welcome to Human Conditions! I see it as a combination of the two groups which inspired it, #So-Often-Bled and #Emotions-in-art. The edginess and imagination of #So-Often-Bled with the basic premise of #Emotions-in-art, capturing the range of emotions we experience as human beings.|
We are not for everyone. We are for serious artists of any media whose work deals with emotions and the condition of being human.
We would rather be a small, interactive group than a large group where everyone dumps their latest deviations. We want quality, not quantity.
~Original Founder Bark
Find The Rules And Group Standards On The About Page.
19 swim in painted rivers ascetic like starved, pink fish19 by lakednunch
screaming through panic fat a seized organism with a cold, yellow halo
still bitten by the soul stink of a broken whore with contradictory periscope eyes
i have grown ravenous with rage an idle searching for convalescence
deadlocked and paranoid hung up on a Nembutal drip
Capturing visionsCapturing visions by jade-pandora
fresh pages filled with notes,
my field journal
starting a new year
Silence against the windowsSilence against the windows by jade-pandora
he naps near a globe
of white flakes floating down
while outside, snow drifts
A Season of Winter1. and so it begins. . .A Season of Winter by jade-pandora
their death poems
2. senses awaken. . .
I open a melon,
its green perfume
3 . across a field. . .
the Milky Way
casts a farmer's shadow
4. welcome. . .
shutting out the chill,
moonlight spills in
5. daydreams. . .
winter vegetables for stew,
thoughts of summer plums
6. snow angels. . .
the imprints you and I
left behind, fill with snow
7. comet-trysting. . .
new moon phase—
winter anointed with sapphires
from a nightly caller
8. solstice. . .
the same moon
you and I
the same moon
9. a homecoming. . .
milky way in deep winter—
his son's voice
no longer a child's
10. crystallized. . .
half dressed by a window—
frost on the cars
11. cold morning, hot tea. . .
he sips a steaming cup
watching from its edge
as I cut pears in two
12. a harbinger. . .
A PrayerI had it… I really did, lying in bed this morningA Prayer by jimfleming
The words rolling around in my head… poetry and explanations
Answers to everything in every second
A turning kaleidoscope of colored glass found in every molecule
The universe in a thumbnail
I need to stop and accept… to allow
Every flash of sun on every ripple on every lake
Every drop of dew on every blade of grass in every meadow
Every blink and sigh and thought and step and stumble
Every breeze across every leaf in every forest
Every planet in every galaxy in every universe
Not to put too fine a point on it, is a miracle
A miracle is a single cell and a long day and a smile
A get up, get out and get on with it
So simple and basic and elemental as a laugh
I am close, I can feel it, it is right around the corner
That cheese at the end of the maze…
That carrot. That brass ring. That clarity.
I love the irony of my life in all its bitter-sweet textures
Thank you seems inadequate, but it is all I have
blackberries, bramblesthere is a resentment buddingblackberries, brambles by toxic-nebulae
in my gut
as something from a swallowed seed.
dormant and deadly,
a steady outdripping of poison,
thick as a sap to be tapped,
to be harvested.
I fear it will overrun my
will corrupt the soil it grows in
with its violent outshootings—
it will turn every bit of me
into its grisly garden.
it will make you feel
StrangerThe ebb of eveningStranger by jade-pandora
wrapped in its midnight
was a friend,
even in my crib,
but a night light
near the floor, cast forth
across to the door,
cracked open, hiding
the stranger I never saw,
but heard its
for it's the little ones
who cannot name it,
but their minds fit
between the ribs
where I sat, crouched
looking out, watching
and waiting . . . knowing.
lose itI loved youlose it by toxic-nebulae
as I am going to lose you:
steadily, and without artifice.
like the clearing of floodwaters.
like the healing of a wound.
there is something within me
that does not permit permanence,
something rancid inside
that slowly wears through—
I cannot keep. I lose. I lose.
but I am determined, this time,
to do it gracefully. to make it
into a skill that I can perfect,
a performance that commands awe,
a sideshow of precious things
slipping through my fingers.
somewhere, behind a curtain,
on a rickety platform
surrounded by strangers,
I am losing you
as I have loved you:
willingly, and without reservations.
with the depth of an ocean.
with the tenderness of a bruise.
DickMaybe someday I can love Dick CheneyDick by jimfleming
Some day enlightenment might be attained
I've been told all things are possible
Most of those misguided fools are
nothing more than grist for comedy
But, Dick…. Dick is special
The Buddha tells me to see myself in the other
To eliminate the artificial us/them construct
To see myself in Dick Cheney
Could Dick see himself in me?
I don’t think I like the sound of that
Would the “me” Dick become contrite and renounce
his affiliation with darkness?
Would the “me” Dick return to all those talk shows
on an Apology/Confession Tour?
Would the “Dick” me continue to rationalize
the soul deadening crime of war profiteering?
Would the “Dick” me "do it all again in a minute"?
Someday I might see myself in Dick and
Dick might see me and realize
that we are all one...
When pigs levitate.