Computer: Dream Art


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6 April 2016


The Game gets better. 

Believe me it gets better. 

If the cancerous parasite clings, first order of business is to turn into an infectious disease. 

This is a dream. 

Crying is not a shame. 

  This is a computerized world. 


The war on drugs…and health


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A stable mind

A mind at rest

Sicknesses that kill

Could easily be helped.

Friendly relations

Between countries far and wide.

Cultivating remedies

Need for trade, unite!


Malaria needs a cure

Cancer does too

Evil lurks around

Why not keep it cool.


Barring from discrimination

Why do we discriminate?

Why should we be parted

Redundantly separated


Banning! Know the way

The Earth to make us one

To buy our sons

The pleasures of this life

The treasures of this blood.


To heal the young

To heal the wounded

Share the pain

And bear the music.


The time is here to keep it down.

The time is here to keep it down.

To be continued…

Mine says hi too

Her name is lily,

although I first called her coco

because she kept taking out coco yams from kitchen to play with.

She is naughty; I spank her all the time; and she has been; is very rude to my dog, Trojan.


She got pregnant; probably had 4 kittens; killed one – chopped its head right off; probably ate it; so I buried the body, had a little ceremony; but the dog (female dog or bitch, Rachel) may have dug it out…

The pets seem to get along, except for the odd disputes.

The other 3 (kittens) survived – I called them Fluffy, Leo and Little Lily (or just little one).

Fluffy is the big Brown and white with the big fluffy head, Leo is the Dark grey one and Little Lily the junior.

Unfortunately, Little Lily died a few days a ago; so I built a funeral pyre for her with an old coal pot.

The funeral went well.

But they’re all good.

Trojan has lived with me for almost 4 years now; Lily, 8 months; and Rachel (Or Cleo – short for Cleopatra), 5 months.




I think progress is beautiful,
For it fights to prosperity

It takes time to develop,
It’s cautious,
Not hardy.

It flaws not but flows
Like a virus to the essence
Change is correction
The lesson is progression.

Talk of the fates
The need for advancement
What need of effort
without growth’s development

Work of the passion
Easy to prosper
Up going happens
Happy in the pleasure.

What of the passion
My beautiful says,
The wealth of the glory
The battles success.

Talk of the riches
The uncarved block is bled
In pastures of plenty
The hungry is fed

It’s changing the mind
One to another
Leaving the pain
Building another.

Enemies of enemies
Friend unfriendly,
Unless there is joy
No victory contend.

Enemies of enemies
A friend to my foe,
A’gain I go with him
A nature unknown

For the sake of the plan
A better at that
Foes become one
A friend I have none.

A wife I have though
A life and the dove
The beast and the child
The treasure is cold.


Roses and Phallus


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The roses are laid, Mainly for the phallus
The ribbons are made, Neatly for the ring

Witches naked dance, Fleeting full of glee

The victim lies Erected, 

there he seem so mean

The stares his way, Like the Devils sway

Bleeding in the rain
Passion: says no more! 

Nothing in my way
Looking for the A

The X marks where it’s laid
Call me yet the victim
Screaming like a lioness
Horses can’t harness

Reeling on her dress
Touching feelings now

‘Wisdom’: Has it said
Trimming on your beard 

The old now is dead. 
Told you: you was born

Playing with the words
Nought you had to say

A personal skill instead
Silence is the key

Dark Voices in cloaks of dread
Black will be the secret 

Staring in the void
Endless stars will guide you

Advance, home my boy!
Angels will guide you

To where you belong 




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The Plaque

I feel my breath
And close my eyes
I try to smell the air.

I seek the plaque
The taste I find
My mind and thought instead

The picture street
I know the one
The ruby lips of love

My mouth it holds
The lack untold
Cannot be changed by none.

My heart is warm
And not so worn
My faith has brought me hope

I focus on
The diamond rough
The scar replaced in time.

I brush the breasts
Till ever rest
The golden scarlet shine

In summer sights
The waist beneath
My human shadowed kind.

I miss the the touch
Of heaven sweet
The earth has my embrace

The natural man
Of all there is
Awaken to this Grace.

Of passion here
You close to me
Your words remain, to stay

I pray to eat
And to prayer
My dreams are made in love

I keep the law
My heart is raw
The jungle’s curse is nought.

The night is here
I cannot lie
The world of flaws and beauty.

We’re covered now,
With clouds of love,
Spontaneously in destiny.


The Importance of Memory and World Press Photo’s “Contemporary Issues”

Amanda Rivkin

“The struggle of man against power is the act of memory against forgetting.”
-Milan Kundera, The Book of Laughter and Forgetting

I have my own personal reasons for choosing to photograph over other mediums, for believing that we must look sometimes even when we are more often compelled not to. The collective memory of societies around the world relies on aesthetics, whether represented through flags, leaders, advertising and propaganda or news photographs. Only the last can claim to attempt to accurately reflect the conditions of all citizens but especially the disenfranchised, even if so often the focus is on podiums and the powerful.

Earlier this month, World Press Photo announced the results of its annual competition. Shortly thereafter, the mayor of the Belgian city of Charleroi sent the Amsterdam-based foundation a letter stating his objections to an essay entitled “Dark Heart of Europe” that depicted his town as some sort…

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