Sperm Counts
Posted March 18, 2012
The Arizona Senate proposed a bill this week that gives state jurisdiction over male masturbation. It’s called “save the sperm cell” bill and it’s all about allowing each and every sperm cell the right to find an ovum. The bill’s sponsor is Republican Nancy Barto of Phoenix. Christian evangelist and child actor, Kirk Cameron, applauds the proposed bill and is willing to wear the anti-masturbation device as a show of support. He would like the bill to include mandatory use of this dev...
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A Tribute to Etta James
Posted February 01, 2012
http://youtu.be/U4goKfwtsRc
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Lawn Care
Posted January 26, 2012
Clear away all the fallen leaves you see Like a good son, father said to me. Raking some ten thousand flakes of crimson gold, The wind only pulled more from the trees last hold. His clean green grass in one moment gone From the door he shouted loud “rake my lawn!” With angry scorn I looked on high Cursing trees and windy sky. The years passed and his ghos...
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A Portrait of Beauty
Posted January 14, 2012
Beautiful art is like an imperturbable flame in the heart of an ageless soul - an enchanted spirit bound not by trend, time, or popular vote. It reflects more than the lust of unfulfilled desire, but the eternal quest of every spirit, the ecstasy of creation, the holiness of love, the spiritual triumph over sacred pain, and the grace of nature’s living force. A great work of art is the snow flake and the fingerprint of the divine - a universal and yet, matchless vision. The fa...
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Prologue
Posted January 10, 2012
The wooden shutters flailed and thumped fitfully against the old white colonial. It was a cold and gusty night late in the autumn of 1958. Upstairs in the hallway, I stood alone, motionless hearing my parents quarrel behind their locked bedroom door. Unlike my two brothers, I had fair skin, wavy blond hair, and lightly freckled cheeks — features that barely resembled either of my parents. And until that night, I never thought anything about it. My folks seldom screamed at each o...
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Cyrano & Dean
Posted January 08, 2012
The cold and damp air obscured the first signs of early spring. Trekking across the spongy field after leaving the cafeteria, I spied the pointed spears of the purple crocuses that had pushed through the muddy straw grass. The familiar sound of rainwater trickling through the tin gutters grew louder as I approached my dormitory. With each footstep, the steel stairwell trembled on my climb to the second floor. Passing by my friend’s room, I heard the romantic lyrics from Donovan playi...
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Walking to Montreal
Posted January 08, 2012
The crescent moon painted a silvery sheen over the timeworn country road. I stood still listening to the twittering of a bird in a nearby tree. The late hot dinner shielded me from the cool night air. It was a long road ahead, I thought to myself, as I took my first step. I realized that I was more alone than I had ever been in my entire life. In the darkness of the last few hours of May 5, 1971, I started my trek north to Sherbrooke. Wondering about when my next meal would come, I...
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The Art Class
Posted January 05, 2012
In that large room, there were three long rows of sturdy old wood tables. Multi-colored splotches of old dried paint covered the tabletops. Three dozen heavily varnished chairs scarred with nicks and scratches surrounded the long tables. Mrs. Himmler, my third grade teacher, marched our class in single file into the art room. The art teacher, Miss Curio, seated the students as Mrs. Himmler retreated on break for the next hour and a half. After locating my unfinished picture fr...
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AUTUMN
Posted October 29, 2011
A Poem by Spadecaller
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The Heavens Edge
Posted June 17, 2011
The Heaven’s Edge In the sunshine behind the clouds There is a place I know, Where the stars shine in the light of day, Where you can hear the stillness of the wind Whispering on a windless night. This is where I meet those I love, Who have since passed away; This place I call the heaven's edge. From long ago and not so far away, Both young and old come to meet and walk the beach. Tuesday was Gandhi, Chaplin, and Van Gogh, The Kennedys, Lincoln, and Leonardo. Today it...
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Longleaf Pine Fire
Posted June 08, 2011
Limbs burn feathers flare; Nests of ashes white and bare, Nubs of grass blackened shine, Unclasped hands of naked pine. Old foot paths left unseen By charcoal rain rinsed clean. From charred ruins these trees grow high, Like phoenix rising from ash to sky. And, so the longleaf pine is my life, Tried by fire and saved by strife.
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Triumph Over Hopelessness
Posted May 30, 2011
The word hope is tossed around like candy corn on Halloween. For those of us who have lost hope, its sickening sweet flavor and bright colors are repugnant. We may want to believe that the injustices of oppression can be lifted from our communities and from our nation; but most of us who are honest with ourselves know we are stricken with hopelessness -- that the death of our ideals were buried in the vast children's cemetery with millions of others. Despite the vast changes brought about po...
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Remaining Faithful to Your Vision
Posted May 24, 2011
I believe too many artists feel the need to apologize for their right to express themselves freely - especially when it ruffles the feathers of those that display, market, and exploit their work. This is one of the lessons that I learned at RedBubble. I must also applaud all my fellow artistists who have chosen to champion the right of all artists to be free from ideological manipulation. True artitsts never bow to the demands of politics and ideology. The idea that artists need to hide silentl...
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The Artist's Challenge
Posted May 17, 2011
As much as I love the process of creating works of art, there is one inescapable reality that is too often overlooked; artists are among the most oppressed and exploited group of workers in the world. When I was a young boy, I discovered to my dismay that the French and Italian artists who painted the beautiful birds, flora, and landscapes on dishware and ceramic ornaments were unfairly treated -- paid almost nothing for their wonderful work. When I told my father that I admired ...
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