Embers

Embers

Shabstah here, Marketing person from West London. Visual gluttony for art, music, design, people, fashion et al
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dylansbackstage:

DESIGNER OZWALD BOATENG FOR L’UOMO VOGUE REBRANDING AFRICA ISSUE. LONDON. MAY 2012
Photo: Dylan Don
06.05.12
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bonjourmisterbun:

Zanzibar was also the perfect setting to just contemplate… while listening to beautiful Kora in the sun. 
06.05.12
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06.05.12
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rosesarepurplevioletsarepink:

(:
06.05.12
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05.03.12
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Caramel beauty x
05.01.12

Pretty Ribbons Of Crimson

 

 

I was the angered 

Driving fast without foresight

But tipped into the dark hole

Thrown into animated suspension i fight for the lock

Swimming inside and ought of sentience

The boundaries of right and wrong

 

Who dug this hole?

Sucking the life force we descend into chaos

An army of hyperpoble an animal of hatred

Revenge never satiated the wounded nerve

Fighting the trap bearer who unmade the road

Engulfed in pretty ribbons of crimson

An extacsy macarbe

 

Im brought aside

To know that a child 

 Innocent annoyance 

Had died in the car

I released all that was important

My inner organs leapt from me and cried.

Because 14 Whispered words that released the sight of war

from my eyes into the sands of an impermanent dune

My holied saint of context.

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05.01.12
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simonpsaric:

I listen to the ocean and all I hear is you, Tracey Emin, 2011
05.01.12

Poem i scribbled

 

The Aviation of Her

 

The piano is weeping

several continents away a Japanese pianist

hidden in cigarette smoke.

Provoking a hotel bar.

Her black vinyl approach

1000 philosophies scrolling to

pursue a definition.

Meaning

Each tear becomes a letter from the foreign alphabet.

Chasing down cheek, in gallop.

Sentences of love soon appear, a poem.

It is written on her face

Then a neon glow anticipates

parted lips

smoothly caressing a

far-fetched idea, a bullet between tongues

Lost in hair, she thinks

in an asana of the sun.

Feet lost in waters of a holy river

a plastic life is long away

In a moth she flies

past lands on which she wept.

A guttural mosaic, chewing through his quilt

repeatedly burnt by the only thing

that keeps her.