The Winds of Change

If your sun should turn to rain
and all your clouds sing sad refrains
won't you come and love me again?

oh how I pray, how I pray for the winds of change
oh love, love so true, oh with a love, love so blue

Black moon is rising on the stormy sea
Tides of change wash over me
and all the little birds are singing "love will be"

oh how I pray, how I pray for the winds of change
oh love, love so true, oh with a love, love so blue

Two souls that dance in God's sweet name
Two souls in love are never the same
Oh how I pray for the winds of change

oh how I pray, how I pray for your love again.
oh love, love so true, oh with a love, love so blue

... Regrow ...

Art Rebel found himself engaged in a fascinating, albeit dark, poetry recital tonight.  This collaboration piece was a tangable result.  Enjoy.

Three Strangers on the Bar

A few napkin portraits over saki while waiting for something interesting to happen...

Life in a Fish Bowl

Surely, he thought, there must be more to life than that ... there must be something beyond... the end ...

Dream of the Flower Maiden

Image taken from Nord Fantasty by Kreniya Simonova

Pluck the Moon from the Sea Bottom

Art Rebel took a risky journey into the city recently.  The risk was to his heart, and the journey was a kind of dream quest.  He wanted to go on a small pilgrimage to visit a little known building on 47th Street that once was very famous in certain circles.  It had been called the Lamasery.  This was back in the 1870's.   But this was not where the risk came in.  What he wanted to do was bring someone he had never met before with him.  Someone whom he met through a dating service website.   Someone who seemed very special.  It was a dangerous journey because Art Rebel has strong feelings, and sometimes they are difficult for him to control.  And the risk as always for him is that he wounds himself when he wounds others.   And he always seems to be wounding someone or other.   Why this is, only the God of Love can tell.   He's not entirely clueless as to the causes, but what the real reason is, it always evades him.   And so he struggles to find someone who will be just forgiving enough to help him find the Divine Sanctuary.  Together.   Art Rebel knows that such a place exists, and he knows that it can be found only by those who have true love in their hearts. It takes compassion.

And so he met her at a little place not far from the Lamasery.   She came in and was more beautiful than he expected, her musical enchanting voice weaving for him the story of her dreams... dreams that he intuitively understood, and which revealed to him who she is within the Kingdom of Divine Idea.  She didn't seem to know it but her dreams were very specific as to the nature of her spirit, and her plight.  He wanted to help her.  And he felt she needed his help, as he needed hers.  She spoke to him from a place that touches the sun and the moon and the stars, and in her story was hidden the music of the Celestials.   He listenned with profound joy in his heart, feeling that he might have already fallen in love with the flower maiden, and he lowered his eyes in an effort to control this feeling, though it was a futile gesture.  Art Rebel's love is meant to shine like the sun.  Together they sat, hand in hand, talking and healing one another for what seemed an eternity - until she pulled her hand away.  And then everything changed, and they came back to earth.  He didn't know why she would do such a thing.  And he failed to mention it, but sat in mute perplexity while the topic of their lives in the world came up, and the problems thereof were discussed over cognac and dessert as the clouds gathered.   They drank a bit too much, and laughing they split the bill and wandered into the night.  Forgotten was the Lamasery.   And in wandering they parted company, suddenly, perhaps forever...

From Libra to Venus

It wasn't long before Art Rebel found himself at a familiar haunt, doodling his next escapade into existence.   Defying the omnipresent TV of Sauron, he broke the soft silky chains of that wretched, flaccid banality to challenge the Silent Strictures of Society.  A moment before he seemed so hopelessly ensnared, but in the twinkling of an eye he was transformed and executed this daring midtown Art-Attack.   No one among the throngs paid him any mind, of course, for Art Rebel is in fact quite invisible to all but a very seldom few.   Should he regret this, or rejoice?   It is difficult to say, isn't it?

Tapestry of Light

Somewhere along the way home the sun's fiery departure beyond the rim of the world ignited the panes of a glass tower, filling the city with its heavenly glory from afar. Little did the people in their offices know just how magnificent a reflection of heavenly glory they made. How often that is so. Let us not try to tell them, for they will only scoff at poor Art Rebel and his mad cause.

The End of the Day

It had been a long day for the Rebel. It seemed to be that all too few were paying much attention to anything important, like the color of the clouds, or the strange way the wind had been carrying the voices of birds over from the far side of the river. Nothing important could stir the people from their turpor. And so the Rebel was left to his own devices today, and captured this moment as he crossed from the East side of the road to the West side at sunset. There was little else to do except point out the lovely view to a passing squirrel who remarked that it was indeed very pretty. And then he dashed off in search of a nut, as squirrels are wont to do, and vanished behind a tree.

Towers at Sunset

On the way to dinner the Art Rebel could not help but notice the beautiful sunset reflecting her light off of the gleaming towers nearby. Just a quick photograph to commemorate the lovely scene, and share it.

A Knight of Haiku

It was one of those nights.   I had been grousing for sake and managed to make my way to the local watering hole.  It was slow.  The bartender gave me one of her gentle waves and smiled when I found my way to the bar after dinner.   Next to me sat an ebony princess and her lovely friend, and conversation ensued over these napkin drawings.   The sushi chef worked tirelessly to feed us, and the hot sake flowed liberally from flask to cup to mouth.  And so Art Rebellion slid past the guard and highly controversial ideas were exchanged regarding the freedom from ego that can be had by those who seek it sincerely.   We parted company and each went their own way into the long dark morning, satiated, liberated, and perhaps just a bit too drunk.