Devoted exclusively to the creative process. Here you will see photojournaling, poetry, prose, an occasional review--journaling or philosophical writing can be found on our other blogs. This is our attempt to use our imaginations. Enjoy!

Thursday, March 30, 2006


Stern eyes, stern hair
Steady gait
Going nowhere.

Never flinching
Not a word
No one noticed
No one heard.

Carrying his world
Nodding hello
Working till dawn
Palms numb
and yellow.

And everyday
It was the same
The chill inside
The mask, the game.

Till one lucky day
He forgot to play
And the scarlet night
Stole away his fight.

And suddenly

so suddenly

he saw the world turn white
with that familiar light
so long out of sight.

Yes, the world turned white
As his brand new wings
His brand new wings
took flight.

Wednesday, March 29, 2006


from the industrial love machine force farce that is Ritual Acts with Penquins

Tuesday, March 28, 2006

Death becomes you, part IV

Oh boy...

I waited. And waited. Come on, stop staring at me and just scream. Shout, alarm alarm, the prisoner's escaping. I was trying to escape and the first door I open, I'm caught.

Or am I?

She was sitting on a wooden bench that was probably made 30 years ago, and in her hands she held two hand-puppets, one male and one female, that were facing each other and nodding ocassionally, besides doing nothing else. She was wearing an evening dress, the colour of tortoise shell, and her eyes were covered with sunglasses, so I had no fucking idea what she was thinking, if she was thinking at all. I could make all this out out because in one corner of the room, which was little more than the size of a closet, burnt a candle. I'd never seen her before and I had no idea who she was, friend or foe.

But it looked like she wasn't gonna raise any alarm. So I walked out and closed the door.

Let me try the next door...

Generic Manga heads

Made in Photoshop
I've started saving eyes as brushes so I don't have to keep making them from scratch everytime. Therefore, 2 and 3 have the same eyes.

Saturday, March 25, 2006

icarus in the sun

you dress yourself in satin but your style is pure tat
you think that you are super fly, that you are where it's at
but with due consideration let me present the facts
you wouldn't even know the truth if the truth ate your hat.
you move around the city like some aging floor show host
without a shred of common sense you idly like to boast
about your bodouir conquests, notched onto your bed post
but the truth still remains the same, your bread is just burnt toast.
i've watched you now for oh so long, i've seen your rusty wit
destroy those you claim to love and make them feel like shit
you use your tongue with brutish skill, a razor blade to slit
the white little virgin throats that present another hit.
but before you flee or run away let me finish whats begun
you're nothing but a little man armed with a big mans gun
you've made your mark on society and you've had your bit of fun
you're nothing but feathers and glue, like icarus in the sun.

keep your underwear clean and fresh in case you ever enter Ritual Acts with Penquins

words by cocaine jesus

Friday, March 24, 2006

Death becomes you, parts I, II and III

I'm putting these up here, with a few minor changes, because there's a massive stakeout waiting for me at my Death becomes You blog.

Part I

I was right, after all. Foretelling doom was never really my past-time, but this once, I got it right.

It all started rather innocuously. I was in a campus. What was I doing in a campus ten years after I left college? I don't know. It was fate that had a hand in it, if you ask me. At least, it's supposed to be a campus, but it looked more like a park - lawns with neatly clipped grass, bits of shrubs and woods. I had come for a meeting and had about half-an-hour to spare. So I decided to just look around. I passed by seven or eight girls playing football, and took a narrow path that didn't seem to lead anywhere.

I was curious. This was path was lined with hedges and the occasional evergreen, not too well kept, it seemed from their appearance. I had walked for about six or seven minutes. It was quiet all around me. The sound of girls playing football had well faded in the distance. Suddenly, as I turned round the corner where the path took a sharp left, I saw a girl in translucent white sitting under a tree.

It takes a split second to register the following - there's a narrow path, there's no one around, there's a girl sitting under a tree, she's wearing translucent white, and she's all alone.

As I came closer, I noticed her eyes. Well, first her breasts, I dare admit, and then her eyes. Her eyes were a colour of autumn leaves. As I walked towards her, she followed me with her gaze. But she had a vague and lost expression, as if merely registering the fact that I was there. "Is she high?" I thought.

I stood in front of her. She was very beautiful indeed. Straight black hair, with auburn streaks, that came down to her shoulders. Suddenly, I had an evil thought...

Part II

What a splitting headache!

When I woke up, I had no idea where I was. I sure as hell wasn't in my own bed. Just didn't feel like it. It was totally dark, and I gave my eyes some time to get used to it. Wherever I was, I was well looked after. I'd never slept in such a huge bed in my life before.

And then I saw them. There were three naked women standing a few feet away from the bed. They were standing, posing like for a photoshoot, and they weren't moving at all. But they looked weird, unreal. They were really not moving at all, as if they were the expecting the guy with the camera to turn up and say, "Boo! Now didn't I tell you not to move!"

There was little else in the room, as far as I could tell. "Who are you?" I addressed, in the general direction of the three naked women. But they didn't even bother to turn their heads.

"You dickhead," I said to myself, as my vision had gotten used to the darkness, "Can't you see, they're not women. They're fucking mannikins. Go touch them to make sure."

And then, slowly, I remembered the horrors of what happened earlier in the day. I wasn't dreaming after all...

Part III

I was never a sucker for vampire fiction, but I checked my neck for bitemarks nevertheless. Just in case. There weren't any. What was I expecting? Really, what was I expecting?

I got up. I stood face to face with one of the mannikins and did a little dramatic monologue. "What the fuck you looking at" kind of stuff. Damn, she's tall. Half a foot taller than me, and what the fuck you looking at's not gonna get me anywhere with her.

So I headed towards the door. I was hoping I wasn't locked in or something. Matter of fact, I didn't know what was worse. To be locked in, or to be not locked in and not know what was waiting for me outside the moment I opened the door. I opened the door anyway. You got to get the hell out of here, you got to start somewhere.

I looked out into the hallway. Empty.

It was dark in the hallway too, but I could make out two doors on each side and another one at the opposite end. For a moment I felt like I was in Playstation. Open them doors, look for ammo and medpacks. Because you're gonna need them when you go bang bang bang. Or when you go rattattattatatatat.

But I wasn't in any Playstation. Keep dreaming, sucker. You got yourself into this, now get the fuck out of this.I stood against the first door on my left. Held my ear against it. Nothing. So I opened.

Oh boy...

Thursday, March 23, 2006

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

Can I kiss you?

So the question hangs in the air, like a thick pall of smoke, precisely because I can’t go beyond this analogy. Couldn’t go past it, as it is there, blocking the free flow of imagination like a chastity lock in my mind. If something is hanging in the air for me, it has to be like a thick pall of smoke, and can never be compared to a helicopter in mid-air, or a humming bird humming away with its wings in a crazy static nonflight. Or a bee hovering over poppy seeds, trying to make up its mind about a midday high. I say “it” because I am told that the worker bees are sexless. What an existence, I wonder. Not to even know the pleasures of sex!! Who decided this, can you tell me? Call it god, or mother nature, I say it is bloody unfair.

The question is about “putting” a question, like the burghers in Sri Lanka would put it. I quite like that word “putting”. Loaded, if you ask me. And instead of digressing into one long list of things that the word “put” can mean, let me come to the question that I am putting here. The question, which hangs in the air is whether I would put the question, rather like putting a ball in your court. (I always felt that “putting the ball” in someone’s court is like nonchalantly going across the net and putting the ball on the other court. Something mischievous, something Radioheadish about the whole affair, about the cool, uncaring manner in which one just walks into another court and places the ball on the grass, while the rest of the world is kept wondering about this seemingly mindless exercise. Much like being puzzled about the exact genre of music Thom Yorke is trying to give birth to.)

Sitting across the breadth of your living room, facing you, in the midst of an inane conversation, whether I would put the question. Casually. That is the question levitating in mid-air, in stark contrast with the apple that inevitably falls. But Newton was Newton, and I being me, can’t with any amount of will power, make the question hang there.

Maybe I will. Maybe I will ask you whether you would allow me to gently plant a kiss on your lips. Maybe you will expect me to put the question, while I would keep procrastinating. Maybe you would kiss me before I could even think of asking the question. Maybe the thought would not cross our minds at all . . .

Maybe is the half-answer that we have to make do with till we give rise to a circumstance where you and I will be sitting across the breadth of your living room.

Because, across the length would be too far.


Love evades me,
slithers out of my grasp,
sheds the skin of illusion

and I'm left standing with an empty glass.

Your Eyes

I look at your eyes
I can read everything tonight
I feel my presence in your eyes
I see your desire in those eyes

You drop your eyes
I felt you believe me completely
you rise them again
I know you are ready for love

There are small drops
of tears at the corner
telling me I am the one
whom you can wait for life

Don't close your eyes yet
I have to find so many things
the effect of my touch, my kiss
and my love on you

I want to see myself
once again in those eyes
this is a moment which
may never return

I may never be able
to see those eyes again
dipped in so much of love
for me and forever

I want to make love
tonight with them open
Looking at me all the way
telling me all I should know

Friday, March 17, 2006


when all is said and done
and judgement is passed
like the cocking of a gun,
that you and I,
wayfarers in the void,
will touch,
before avoiding words
too clumsy to engrave
onto the elusive thoughts
of passing minds

words by cocaine jesus


I chase the dream in toilet bowl confines
With a hollow stick
And a razor blade
But reality determines guilt despair
That speeds time
And acid spits
The daylight hours with lost hope

words by cocaine jesus

Wednesday, March 15, 2006


Stark stunning desert
Sweetly smiling sun
Seared strips of sand
Where scorched cacti stand.

Sucked senseless
Stubbornly sane
Steely strong

Stuck in silence.

Stray summer rain
Sea soaked breeze
Savouring surreptitiously
Stolen stories.

Sitting staunchly
Shadowy shroud
Sipping slowly
Off the sodden sky.

Shivering soundless
Sinuous silhouettes
Smoky styles
Severed smiles.

Sombre stillness
Sickly staid

Stifling slowly


at nothing

Still standing
Sobbing softly


Sheer stupidity say I.
What say you?

Friday, March 10, 2006

little razor

in my mind she's bleeding,
little razor in her fist,
patterns formed in flesh
that puddle blood on
worn keys.
the screen is cold and lifeless
and offers only the cruelest
of hopes.
and my heart feels chill
even though she is but a rumour
to me, a distant begining
of a friendship newly formed.
of a friendship duely joined.

love is large and never
small and encompasses globes
and time and space.
you cannot barter with its
warm heart and you cannot
hear its screams.
even when continents
divide you and oceans
weep across the blue,
the faintest cry can
still be heard
of a friendship newly formed.
of a friendship duely formed.

words by cocaine jesus

Thursday, March 09, 2006

if she's dying and she knows,
send her in her dreams to an atlantis
you will never see...
to heavens in her mind
till there's hope in dying
and truth gets skewed

if she's dying,
carry your brush and mind,
you got one last painting to do.

when she dies with a smile,
there'll be a heaven painted
for the believer in you.

Wednesday, March 08, 2006


Its not a sunny world
And your hair never curled
And your feet never twirled.

Remember that.

When your broken head whirled
And your nightmares unfurled

When your dreams turned to dust
And your spark burned to rust

And your eyes lost that light
And your ghosts won the fight

Don't remember do you?

Sitting cosy in that make believe room
With pretty pills to chase away the gloom

They took it all didn't they
Till every hair turned to grey
And left you with a frozen mind
Not even one axe left to grind.

And yet you always wanted to


Monday, March 06, 2006


help me get outside my head
i'm trapped and can't get out
a prison made of chemicals
my thoughts so full of doubt
life has left a heinous mark
on my precious souls estate
what once was freedoms substitute
becomes my new self hate

Friday, March 03, 2006

The Dream Catcher

Yay, my first post here! The look of the following picture occurred, while scanning it in, I removed it too quickly. Hence it looks like the Dream Catcher is trying to escape, which inspired the following few words:

The Dream Catcher slips away.

He doesn't allow himself to be caught on paper.


I catch my own.