art
Art of an introspective nature; a look at artwork that reveals the artist's psyche and comments on the inner workings of a chaotic mind.
The Frog Monster
Once upon a time, there lived a princess named Rose. Everywhere she walked, she brought joy to people. Children and animals loved her, and the flowers in the castle’s garden bloomed at every step she took. One day, she walked to the lake that was placed on the grounds of her castle. As she dipped a toe in the water, admiring the fish, a creature was lurking at the bottom of the murky, brown water. It swam up to her and grabbed onto her toe. When Princess Rose saw the massive bull frog, startled, she shrilled in terror and fell backwards onto the ground. The creature crawled to her side and stared down into her petrified eyes. It stated, “Quiet flower, no need for words. Kiss me now, my sweet conquer.” After a moment of being paralyzed in fear, the timorous princess shot up off the ground and ran back to her castle, her supposed safe haven, but the sadistic varmint locked his gaze on her. Later that night, after Princess Rose completed her nightly tasks and was sound asleep in her bed, the bull frog found his way into her bedroom window. He crept onto the girl’s bed, leapt onto her pillow, and kissed her on the lips. As the unconscious princess had no clue of her surroundings, her dreams took over her actions, and she slowly started to kiss him back. The joyous frog happily stepped away from his princess and awaited his transformation. He was ready to become hers. He was ready to take her, to own her, and to have all of her love and respect, but his satisfaction never came. So, he kissed her again hoping she would allow him to be hers, but she awoke at once and hit him, causing him to be flung out the window and fall to his death.
By Heather Foreman4 years ago in Psyche
Sparky: Writers, Shamans, Creativity and Magick
You are in a dark room. So dark that at first you can’t see anything. Pitch black. Then slowly, as your eyes adjust to the gloom, you notice a gathering light in the centre of the room. A faint glow, so tiny, the last of a candle flame. When you try to look at it directly, it’s too bright, and hurts your eyes. But the candle is on the brink of going out. The room is cold, and whenever the wind blows the flame gutters in the draft. Once it’s dead, it will be gone forever.
By James Garside4 years ago in Psyche
A Turtle Telling Time
Sea turtles were once regarded as the time-keepers of the ages by the sages and mages. That is, perhaps, why they live so long. These patient reptiles stay to record the times of its beats and measures on the scutes of their shell spines. Turtles in general are catalogued as 'slow' travelers. I beg to differ. Soil or sea, they migrate according to magnetic force of resistance and flow. By phenomenon of weight and matter, they balance time to the numerical state of zero. 'Slow' (or 'fast') is reserved for both the objective and subjective.
By Aimee Ortega5 years ago in Psyche
The spirit of creation and its' affect on mental health
Rock n' roll and mental health awareness have one thing in common, society has taken its' time to accept both. I have anxiety in the same way I love rock n' roll... I just always have. At the end of everything, everyone has that one thing that quiets the chaos inside of them. That something is a way to express self care and self love, as well as a way to spread love for the human experience. For me, that is the liquid light show, a dying art made famous by early rock n' roll. The liquid light show was made famous by the hippies, looking for the psychedelic visual counterpart to bands like Led Zepplin and Pink Floyd. It was a strange fusion of art and basic chemistry, all glued together via an overhead projector and colored fluids. I knew I loved doing it and I loved how raw I could be with it.
By Hayley Buzek5 years ago in Psyche
The Rabbit Hole
I am an over-the-top personality. I overthink, overlove, over feel, over stress, etc.-it is all or nothing, which is not invariably a negative aspect of my personality when channeled in the right areas. My extremities have helped me to accumulated over fifteen years of experience with insomnia-which comes in waves. Waves of countless replays of things I could have done better or different in my life-reminders of immature mistakes that are set in stone forever. Waves of empathy I feel for people I may have hurt ten years ago. Insomnia is endless reels playing on inner eyelids. I do not come with an off switch, and I have been looking for one for a long time-trust me. These shoulders get heavy, and there are times when I am exhausted and screaming out to no one, “I need a freakin’ break!”
By Franchessica Hannawacker 5 years ago in Psyche
Wearable Weapons
I bought 75 pounds of TSA confiscated scissors from eBay. It was 2008 and I was preparing for my MFA thesis project. I was in NYC completing my creative degree 7 years after the Twin Towers had fallen and TSA had made a bunch of new rules to protect us all from the threat of “Weapons of Mass Destruction.” Does having our scissors and other sharp objects confiscated from our bags, suitcases and purses help keep us all safe?
By Carrie Mae Rose5 years ago in Psyche
