Mc angel

It’s always a pleasure making art for fellow artists. This was commissioned by a friend of the very talented MC Angel. I used symbolic representation of her values and her own lyrics to make this portrait.

Check out her spoken word poetry here:

whispers and screams

(Co-written by @fontsize4poetry)

IMG_7229

They tell me that I’m no good.
Crawling up along my shoulder blades, they cling to my ear lobes and pull up.
Whispering with conviction-
Look at you. Ugh. Do better.
They tell me it’s my fault, pushing back my shoulders, tugging aggressively on my ear lobes, screaming with assertion.
Look at you. Eww. Be better.
My heart beat begins to play bass to this sinister symphony of whispers and screams…
I know the music won’t last but I can’t help but hate that I can’t change the tune… They drag me down often, make this body of mine an object to be poked, and teased, and pulled apart, limb from limb like I aint shit to anyone.
I am no temple when they come around.
I remain forever bound, to the two sinister sounds no one else can hear, my feet glued to the ground, my self put in a cell…so no one else can hear… any of my whispers or screams for help.

Fake flowers 

Dear inventor of fake flowers, why?

I understand that maybe you just wanted to capture beauty and keep it forever,

but don’t you let people believe that looks will last.

Didn’t you realise that there is beauty in aging,

that there is character to the bunch with a few wilting stems?

You can’t trick me into believing that there is beauty in perfection,

see I’ve tried to reach it and failed many times.

Starved of water, we all die,

so how can pretty be pretty without the spark of alive?

See, this bunch may have been beautiful at first glance,

but I’ve had it for years now and nothings changed.

No new sprouts, no death-

No need to nurture and love for that won’t affect these fakes.

I don’t even look at them anymore.

Beautiful as they may be, they are less beautiful to me knowing that this is all that they will ever be.

Dear lover,

please don’t ever buy me fake flowers with the hope that I will feel comforted by everlasting beauty.

Buy me ones that will die.

One’s that I will therefore cherish for every moment that they are alive,

One’s with bruised petals and wilting stems but still fragrant so that I can see that beautiful is more than meets the eye.

Dear inventor of fake flowers, why?

Poetry by the amazingly talented https://fontsize4poetry.com