Always making
WHUR John Blake http://whur.com/shows/caribbean-experience/
Musicians
Prince, Outkast, Benjamin Booker, Nina Simone, Ben Harper, Frank Ocean and Lolawolf.
tips
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always making
Always in the must of making.
this should be my book cover.
I make to feel connected to the memory of her spirit. I see her in a divided timeline. 
I love her stance.
Jackie has this really fun smile. She smiles with her eyes first and then her mouth. I’m so proud to paint her.
I’m also working on V Day cards.
https://society6.com/product/just-the-2-of-us1052259_cards?sku=s6-8566129p22a16v71
got no time to be your lifeguard.
Drowning used to be my game in the dark nights. The Silver Fish danced to the blindspots only to kiss a finger as I slept on an old futton. The bed was too good for a soul with stains like mine. Sad daddies of children with no birthdays. I see the baby hairs in the corners of my eyes as I sit in empty rooms dreaming of clicks and emails. I can’t be a lifeguard, I’ve been swimming me entire life in lakes made of Milo. West India of the Western world calls out to me.
“B da truff,” is the voice of the wind. I found her name in the sleep at the edge of my inner eyes. She is hard but soft, kind but stern and alive and yet never born.
Madness in the paint drops.
The artists in random order.
Dali
Frida Kahlo
Toyin Odutola
Basquait
Music by Japanese Breakfast -Road Head
tips
I'm glad you enjoy the podcast and if you like you are welcome to leave a tip.
$1.00
A million moments in one night.
Friends of friends of friends of lovers. The empty is the moment the bag hits the floor and the door closes to the night. Hard pressed to see more than the seconds of running, smiling and the little deaths. Teens on Halloween, the parties, the drugs, the troubles and the makeup on banisters. Midsize red and white finger paint on lips and clothings.
Her smirk is the open books that say everything and then nothing all at once. Her costume is the run on sentence of the mind’s eye.
Mars the phenomenal.
Little of me remembers that years smells but the touch of the cold on the tops of my arms is an unshakeable souls shiver. The parts that make all I run into mentally a cliff edge.
Long live the hearts.
Taste like poison, deep and rich. The dark matter matters as the only air I feel is the fan on my face. The skies little kisses splashing on praying eyes. Avalon is a dream and we are all but dreamers. Fire crawling up my temples and no end in sight. The feet roll up inside the welcome mat as the covers buried the man to young to remember his passwords to the WIFI. His sleep will take all his secrets until morning. No one soul is everything and no one soul is nothing.
A kingdom of paper plates. A jungle of unknown wealth jumbled in red, green, yellow and blue holiday lights. Forgotten in the dreams of liquid lucid lopsided lovers of all things dreams.
Bury me down by the river so as the Earth eats me I feed the children with the fruits of Summer. It’s all a thumbprint on a glass spiderweb.
Remember to forget the things that give you pain and eat the things that bring you your reflections of you feels. They become parts of pieces of all the little littles that inspire you.
jaws_blake 