My First Dress Design with Psychedelic godhead fabric

This is my first complete dress design made from my psychedelic fabric prints…

A sculpture that can be worn...

Made out of my Melt design This dress features shimmering hidden eyes…..

The color palette is a pleasantly clashing purple and orange with blacks and shimmering whites melted together in a half tie dye half rocker cyber punk stripped design. 

The fabric has a nice shimmer....

This wild pattern is shaped into a classic 60s silhouette, with a shaped and darted bust, an hourglass waist and a fitted hip. This shape is similar to dresses worn by Jackie O but done in a stretchy figure hugging polyester.

The stripes are placed just so……

On the back middle waist the stripes form a V shape and in the front run diagonally while the bust and skirt run vertical to maximize the hourglass look.

I designed my dress but did not sew it....But this garment is professionally tailored by the owner of Pins To Needles

located in Scotland, CT

pinstoneedles.com

Where I am getting my sewing lessons as well.

When I saw this garment finished I knew that I had to learn how to sew..,....but I am all butterfingers and I am a zen master's worst nightmare!!!

How will I ever get the skill?

follow me on my perilous quest to master my creative chaos through sewing

to follow my new creations go here

to my Blue Apple Seed Store

Migration of Yin Yang post apocalyptic rant and funny number explosion

I am currently making this visual kind of poem into a comic book........

Migration

                                                                    Of

                                                                        Yin Yang

It started. That could be a complete thought. It is. It did start. But then it died. humans I mean. they died.  unthinkable.  All their paintings and churches and fried chicken and their odd obsession with balls of all sorts. The motor hums even when it’s cold. Some remnants remain, some frozen thoughts. It started with a wedding. Sometimes when humans got married on the beach. They say "I do". Then they walk into the sea. What do they taste like? They must be plump. Plump but smart. Not smart enough. Then the mountains, it married the chemicals of man. And after the I do’s it walked into the sea. It was plump on the bones of ancestors. And the sea got really big. Isn't there a human joke…how does it go.....the bride gets big after saying I do……I do now where's the cake? What is cake? It must have displaced their volume dramatically. Human history was forgotten. Well most of it. I know about some. Not enough for a pattern to emerge….there is always a pattern…No one learned nothin' not even me. But isn't that always so? In this place, no time to cycle. No time for renaissance. it is not a timeless time. but a mortal time that dies with us. It is a time that can be cut up, rearranged, born, tortured, worshiped, ruled. Who am I you ask? I'm the guy at the end of it all with a broom. A biggin' and i cleaned the rubble away in piles that turned to dust. Then there was desert left in its place. Wasn't no fault o mine that order would become so…dry. This desert, it was lined with barbed wire in two inch rows for miles and on the wire are crows. The crows frost on reality. savage oil spills undulating. clutching to the wires with dripping talons. Crinkled riots of age marks  smile at mankind. Fleshy and dripping. Static clinging on countable electrons, insane and twitching.  Shitting and cawing to the movement of reason and logic. A watch tower crawls along the sand and in it moves a man. electric fences grow. guards with glass eyes reflect the colorless expanse.  

And now is the time of darkness

and the eradication of light from another era

The man shouts into the bull horn:

-1

Then a dove takes to the sky

 And he shouts

+1

a crow lands upon the wire

-1

the negative dove is so removed with winged flight

+1

A crow takes it's place. 

-1

the dove flees

 And he shouts 

+1

the positive vibrations of darkness caw it's blood lust 

devoid of red and the more subtle hues of mortality 

they cast no shadows

along the lines

and there is only 1 or not 1

the balance. the symmetry. clean. simple. efficient.  

Then a caravan rips through the desert. Bandits. With a cache of watercolor paint and oils and glitter………forbidden colors……red, blue, green, orange.....they are going to paint a flower.....a pretty flower.

Outraged the man screamed into the bull horn:

Self-So-ness Rhythmic poem Zen poem dance

self-so-ness

finger step-one-two-three

hand step-one-two-three 

wrist step-one-two-three

elbow step-one-two-three

shoulder step-one-two-three 

neck step-one-two-three 

mouth step-one-two-three

chew step-one-two-three 

swallow step-one-two-three

tongue step-one-two-three

taste step-one-two-three 

nose step-one-two-three 

eye step-one-two-three 

cry step-one-two-three 

chest step-one-two-three 

heart step-one-two-three 

beat one-two-three 

stomach step-one-two-three 

butterflies step-one-two-three 

legs-step-one two-three 

feet step-one-two-three 

toes step-one-two-three 

the rhythm step-one-two-three

the dance step-one-two-three-four

what I think about everything philosophical mini rant

when you think in absolutes you are pulling apart the truth into two halves.

the individual soul as a society. the one soul is a collective of many souls, molecules, atoms.... forming a society... and the human is the city, economy and culture

as humans evolve so will reality

to evolve humans have to step outside of society

 the greatest most addictive drug is the human body

Time is action. Time is the act of creating or destroying. Outside of time is the creation or the destruction but only in it’s whole complete immediacy. The steps and the cause and effect is the medium time. The act of painting creates a painting. The finished painting is outside of time. No action but pure will can cut through time.

but silly me, that is not completely true......

because when you view a painting you create a new reality for it all over again.....

all those heads floating through museums.....

so too with memory

and legends......

Waiting surreal poem lamentation inspired by painting

This lament is an old lament

and I no longer am la la menting

about waiting

la la

but I think it is still neat

because most of it was inspired by

this painting.

WAITING

HAZMAT and OCEA shut down my puzzle box

because of my curious oral fixation

the suction cup manicure is a thumb sucker's enigma

wrinkled sweetness opens in sequence

unleashing a biological endorphin explosion.

when he asked me to marry 

him

he gave me the ring of cycles in a circular season

it was endless and outside time

i found a chair

outside of time 

in the pure waiting room

of sterile intent

to cure me of obsession

the doctor inoculates

frenzied passion that diseases 

the speck-less room

in which a red rose sat with its seductive stripper body

wilted and wrinkled like my thumb

Outside of time the

chair in which a red old siren

alarmed HAZMAT and OCEA 

shut down

the sitting puzzle

because of such a hazard

that

linked my love to the meaningless tick tock 

of my curious oral fixation

to cure me of obsession

i took the rose 

and folded up the chair

my puzzle box 

into a square 

in the pure waiting room

of sterile intent

with it's seductive stripper body

still breathing

a thumb sucker's marriage

the works of the spherical machine that linked my love

to a suction cup manicure 

is the mechanism 

that opens in sequence unleashing a biological endorphin explosion

and threw a wrench in the works of the spherical machine 

that linked my love to the meaningless tick tock of watches

Rough Sketches for comic book

What I think about things philosophical poem

What you see does not exist

You can never be real if you exist

your memories are real only to you

if you don't exist neither do your memories

if your memories don't exist you are free to be real

and not chained down by pain that is optional

if you don't exist and nothing exists everything is real

there is one and it is all

there is you but you are everything

you create everything

everything creates you

but nothing happens on a conscious level

unless you know how many hands you have

with which to make

the thing that is you that is outside

breathe 

in a new way

you do not exist

remember 

you are an action that is constantly happening

to keep every step in the dance material

is to never move with grace

to be in reality is not to be 

very much

Surreal illustrated poems one liners work in progress

These sentence fragments and one liners might one day become a poem or something.......

It's like a radio and I can hear the jazzy...... what is the word to describe how an instrument is an extension of the body? humanoidsax-elephantman-boogey. should i add the woogey? only in the third person tense.

House the homeless and speak loneliness by projecting geometric squares from a funnel, he said handing her a saxophone. But the houses are of flesh. And the saxophone is an elephant trunk. so speak well.

neuro nun. transmitter of prayer. space suit habit....black and white... air tight. astral sparrow...space ship missionary flaps it's propeller.  lands on the moon like a pregnant Guadeloupe loop. 

these are not balloons but they look like them....weird bodily functions full of laughing gas hippy crack of a giggling god with crazy wiggly toes in mud pies and sand boxes.

sew buttons on my fingernails so i can unclothe you while my hands are still on the piano.

orbiting threads.....rotund nude with gravity over purple silk.....trendy atmosphere, the breath button in the air.

cleopatra was a squid when she cried.

But she wears little things on her head, she's alright.

So perhaps the alien came down to earth to smoke a cigarette and having done that found he was out of fuel so he hitched a ride on a mushroom. he left behind his exoskeleton which was discarded with the other medical waste.

eat shit and die logic! smash those pumpkins. hammer those strawberries. squish the squash. explode the watermelon. and have them caramelize in nectar revolvers. seed bullets assassinate aristotle by un-killing the known and unknown

 

two nude figures run around the city flashing commuters

and there is skin in suburbia 

 they burn the fig leafs like bras

 Their flesh is sticky with nectar from the garden

Illustrated poems, surreal one liners, work in progress

today was bitter. tomorrow sensed it's indignation and ceased to be, spurned from achieving the present moment by a whim seconds old.

i miss my peach trees. i miss how i plugged them into the wall. i miss their fuzzy interface and round seduction.

sometimes i feel like this and other times i don't.....all daffodil, not bloomed yet, just full of petals...tickle tickle. i giggle at the fact that my body is a human vase.

rose head drinking many teas. rose head drinking rose petal tea. rose petal tea like a neurosis gathering a head within a head within a head, perfumed and blooming...all.

but then the fingers entwine long and budding, the hair tangles like branches

in the core shiva presses buttons. he is driving us home. we sleep in the back seat with thumb in mouth.

i drank the word water but it tasted like ink. i ate the word bread but it tasted like paper. i worship the word god but he is musty like a cellar. i love the smell of old books because i hunger and thirst for truth.

transmission from my tummy. you better listen sandwich.