This painting involves the twisted family dynamics of patriarchal demands, matriarchal acquiesence, maudlin defiance, martyred sacrificial attachments, isolation, children trying to learn how to move within it, get away from it, get high and forget about it, laugh so you don’t cry, growing old enough to recognize the conflict source. It took a sorcerer to get there and reveal to me that dysfunctional family is a redundancy.

Why Daddy Why?
Original Oil painting 30×40

This is my sister. I miss her very much. i wish i would have been the older one to protect her. Now she’s gone and I miss her dearly.

Leave him alone.
Original Oil painting 30X40

I never should have gotten in the truck!!

I can be contacted by email at majesticart@verizon.net.

The portraits in “The Daughters of Kali” are women who perform sex acts in photos and videos that populate the world wide web. They are the sex goddesses we desirously worship in the privacy of our own homes, and disenfranchised women who are excluded by society. Here in these paintings I imply the Hindu Goddess Kali as a metaphor of the all consuming aspect of reality for these women. The mythological aspect of their existence as a play of universal energy in eternity. As daughters of Kali, they are sex goddesses who absorb our desires. Their images alone enslave our senses and subdue the collective libido into a state of complacency. But who are these heavenly creatures when they live among us as human beings? They are shadowy figures deprived of identities, and many are victims of the brutal enterprise of human merchandise, often used up and forgotten within a few years. The plight of their existence is a human tragedy in the divine drama. I combine eroticism with horror to illuminate the psychological and physical violence of sex in love’s absence. These paintings explore the shadows cast between our secret desires and moral dilemma.

the rain

you are the madness that splits me in half

wrapped in your arms to burn eternal

a monster you’ve become

infected in the visions of me poisoned

never again to fly… I shall lay dead

inside myself, thrashing in my death throws

the rails against your ear as I die

rain falling, flowing down this window

like your sweat against my skin

I rose that day some living dead

blank stares melted into the rain

your shovel leaning against the house

moving forward as if it ever happened

the smell of rain is deadly

the sound beneath the wheels

the body twitches inside me

nerves awakened

it knows, and yet refuses to tell me

the reason she lies dead

it was something that you said

the voice remains mute in memory

I can feel your breath against my ear

but no sound…no sound

it is too awful to hear.

The painting and poem are about domestic violence and partner rape

HEART’S HOPE OF POSSIBILITIES
EARTH SHATTERING PROMISES: VIS-A-VIS!

Heart in life for soul in art.
Far gone conclusions to start thusly so far…
In advances shared for Reason’s Enlightening
Purposes. For transitional goals inherent for
The bottom of dark shadows in silent minds
Exposed.

Breaking these holds… life on earth’s chains
Of events spent asunder of Rights, lain in a
Quagmire of defeat. Thrown aside -as if eyes
Don’t exist to see… freedom’s peace to live
Forever for one more day of our existence.

Along the cusp of the sun’s moon shadows
Out on the run, sung for love of words…
Beauty reigns magnificently drawn out
Of clouds covering up blue skies… shining
Hope in faith heard, felt and seen in truth’s
Prevailing soul forevermore.

Brave as one can possibly be… for eyes
In spirit of countenance for changing times.
Heartfelt subliminal sublime -arise in hope’s
Success of all- out of earth shattering promises,
Vis-a-vis! Holding to passions artfully!

DRUNK IN MY PASSION THROUGH THESE PAINFUL NIGHTMARES
Judas and Delilah!

This is extremely humiliating, trying to tackle these severe problems that has thrown me off the edge, out into the distance of dark hearted space. Relative to no one yet to be seen. When dreams don’t mean anything to people stealing your peace. That fake every reasonable belief across the western landscape for the world-at-large. No gifts left that they wouldn’t steal for free gratis of villainy. Impervious to feelings what is real? When brutal lies are compelling for trying to have the courage in strength of confessional rights.

However lain aside, when there are no innocent eyes left to recall. Dead in the spirit, they collude in stealth’s wicked duplicity. That overwhelms me, when people feel no contrition of guilt for their cold blooded crimes, that vilify my conscience in depth of all spying eyes.

They burglarize and bare false witness against me with malice aforethought. Fraud is their specialty, for how evil they can be. That’s left me with no mother, father, sisters, brothers, or a wife that hasn’t feigned their love, chasing after their stolen ‘American Dreams.’ Pariah predators. I’ve had to escape with my life. After they have already severely attacked me. In every way that is a shocking outrage. When nobody is listening, not even when I was a child, raising myself up out of these pits of despair’s blocked memories. For whose God that break every commandment known to man, woman and child?

It hurts like hell on holidays. Especially on Easter and Christmas. It amazes me how people can praise the Lord, then use religion as a weapon to cover up the truth, while they sleep together in their abominable beds. Gone unchallenged, except by my standing up against them, ripping me off for people who end up with household names. Which makes me feel like nothing in society for the laws I follow, but they break with impunity. Leaving me without safety. Making my life a living hell! Perhaps I’ll eventually be heard, felt and seen.

As a visual artist and writer that has written hundreds upon hundreds of lyrics. When writing was my only outlet to release my pain. While they would steal my writing for others to sing, making a great deal of money. Which started with my mother who would continually lie against me, setting me up to take these tremendous falls. When I was sexually, physically, and verbally abused as a child, leaving me empty handed, devoid of honest friendship.

But I can no longer block the pain, like I was forced to as a child. However, for what rights of wicked denial? What confession to be good for the soul? Or the truth to set me free from Judas and Delilah as thick as thieves in family like the Mafia for politicians and the entertainment industry. Subliminal. Sublime. Up to whom out of terror of treacherous minds?

Salutations for Signatures Refined…
Across the Planet for Humane Dignity!

Compelling To The Nights Shoring Up Wounds!

Through “Grapes of Wrath” villainy disdained!
-Marvel at magic’s alchemy-
For a silver thread up to Heaven’s Gate,
In poetic verse beyond restraints…
Tilling the soil in breadth of substantiation
In hearth of heartache’s relief.
Calling out of the distance echoed
Off walls of primordial affairs -stalled by
Compliance in depth of artist merits.
No longer mortified. But relied on… pictured
In breath of the air that we breathe sustained.

Flying through windows in safety’s eye of
The soul in sight of the spirit’s development.
Although, past those whom brutalize the
Innocence in birth of one’s own Rights
To live for sanctity’s beauty worn up
No body’s sleeve -transparently-
For causes of truth’s wisdom in thoughts
Mindful of who we are for Humanity’s Being.
Beyond ‘sly wits’ that manipulate laws -outside-
Of Peace of the sword… sworn by the word!

Double edged -slippery slope- in light of
Confessions discerned, forevermore, knocking
On hearts that beat the drums in cadence of art.
Compelling to the nights shoring up wounds in
Island dreams off the coast of continental divides.
Reaching out beyond despair, profound to those
Whom veritably care for the risk in bounty of
Enlightenment spared… for love beautified.
In nexus of test of countenance dared… for
No shadow of doubt for clarity realized here!

Innocence Lost

Behind The Mask

For educators, there is a thin line between acceptable and inappropriate contact. A teacher that abuses their position of trusted nurturer becomes a poisonous elixir force fed to an innocent. And it follows that the pain the child suffers will incubate and manifest itself in the form of something even more harmful in their lives and the lives of their future loved ones.

This work represents the time when I was raped at 16 by a dirty grown man who pretended to be a friend and benefactor.

Child Abuse

Awakening

Peace at hand of soul in mind to surface out of art sublime.
Refined in conscience verified -beyond the pain- that’s
Sacrificed. Along the lines of hope to dream for one’s own
Heart in heart of self-esteem. Inherent recovery copiously
-Expatiating feelings- righteously discerned in faith beyond
Make believe. Reality strikes in depth of shattered dreams
To live for beauty seen. Grasping hands transparently for
Enlightening soul searching in wisdom’s goals in trust to
Find its way. In shadows of the darkness slain for fear in
Conquered peace. I save in love to dream the night away
For its last est awakening.

ART’S ABYSS

Nobody can relate to my problems. However, I’ve been burglarized on several occasions. Falsely accused of wife-beating in a court of law in Chicago, when I wasn’t there to defend myself. Although this was back in 1973 I’ve been trying to remove this because it slanders my character. Which goes to motive of why I was falsely accused in the first place.

I could have died on several occasions. Bleeding out my life’s blood, while people were ripping off my intellectual property as a lyrical-poet-songwriter. Sense childhood! Because it was family helping those in the music industry and because I was abused as a child this was extremely hard for me to deal with. Years ago because of these shocking circumstances I’ve severed all ties with family whom have set me up to take these tremendous falls.

I’ve pleaded on deaf ears as an American Citizen, feeling disenfranchised out of society -thrown to the wolves of pariah predators- in name of family with those whom have household names with those in the music industry. That ripped me off up close and personally.

When evil rules the earth were are any benevolent angels? When people with malice aforethought get off scot-free with impunity because they are rich and famous, where does that leave me? But defenseless. When my character can be slandered by the powers-that-be, that are immune to feelings, where are the laws to protect me?

When no one has any shame left, nor any sense of moral outrage, humanity is lost to the world-at-large, when conscience dies along the lines of sole bravery to survive. I’ve been fighting this for years without anyone honestly on my side. When the power of money becomes one greedy affair after another.

Then there is nothing left but terror’s treachery, behind the scenes that mortifies the humane spirit trying to survive in light of some cherished hope, beyond someone’s far gone conclusion of heretical mystery… however, in depth of art’s soul searching ability. “Conscience Nurtured by Truth,” whom shall I be able to talk to for joie de vivre?