Beautiful Struggle

so much beauty…you would struggle to see, but be left in awe once you saw it… I watched myself profit from my plummet…

Encouraged  by contagiously courageous condemnation,  inspired by painstakingly painful perspicacity…

What gave me the audacity, to stay, to face it… I had to face it, I could never escape it, through empty glasses, or an overflowing ash tray…the storm always passes, to reveal evermore joyous days…

beautiful cliches, describe all the romantic realizations… I struggle to say…

What gave me the grace, to stay…grateful, humble…to seek not trouble, when I stumbled, to burst only the bubbles, that confined I… My life-style has been ruled by error and trail, so my eye, must Seek truth, until ONE can no longer hide behind Denial…

I changed my mind to find;

The true intentions behind ,the whimsical lies of life, the tranquil amidst the turmoil, the strength in each stumble, the air within the bubble, the relics among the rubble…all that is beautiful within, my struggle

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Obbatala and Sango

Sango and his wife Obba (the original zues and Metis) Two of the yoruba Orishas. I wanted to depict them not as gods, but as a yoruba man and woman that had awoken the God inside them.

Obatala is the mother/father of all Orishas and of human beings. She/He is also the owner of all heads and minds. Through Olorun, who created the universe.

IMG_0631Sango (shango) may be the most well known of the Orishas. He governs lightning, thunder, fire, drums and dance. Shango, a warrior Orisha of intelligence and wit, has irascible temperament and is the embodiment of manhood.

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(you can find out more on http://www.africanmagick.com/orisha-info.html)

Half heartedly in love 

IMG_7289They met in a dream, so real to him, she had made a lasting impression, but never hung around to be recalled at his discretion…
One half of his heart she would fill with love, the other with tension. He knew she would either be a life partner or another life lesson

Despite his many insecurities, he would strive towards making her a priority…He searched;

endlessly, to find the time,

relentlessly, for new ways to prove he loved her.

His charm, his smile, they did their bit to help, they pleaded a case to her, but they never proved what he needed to, to himself.
He begged her to stay, as he pushed her away. She was a beautiful mistake , one he was dying to make… The girl from his dream, that had him sat up all night, awake…

Peice of my mind 

The mind;

a battle field, for the worrier warrior, who draws the will he wields from his soul sheath, while hiding behind his ego shield.

Fighting for a sense of security, defending a feeling of purity, descending and transcending maturity. An odyssey not for the eyes to see, just time zones redefined by a mind blown, as the worrier fights to align the crown.
The brain;

a vast network of ever growing chains , the worriers bane,as he approaches insane…

Fighting to figure out how to eat love, somewhere in-between the stomach and the heart, torn apart, by hard fought thoughts of heaven and hell, hard thoughts sought out where his conscience may dwell. He may well, free all the great warriors, trapped in his grey cells…

A thought;

The pen and the sword that are equally mighty, that colour and carve the warrior worriers reality…

Fighting for a glimpse of clarity, while fighting reality. A missile from a mile away, a beacon beaming through the darkest day, that of which , could guide the blind , and on its way, destroy every last remaining peace …of mind

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