the most important thing
You can always bring some sour cream and onion dip, so long as you bring….
Drawn and quartered,
Closed in and cornered.
Sole proprietor of a broken infrastructure,
Soul prepared for a total rupture.
Please bring the rapture,
A moment to capture.
A flash of Sodom and Gomorrah,
Entrapped in a confused aura.
Bursting with exuberance.
This is the cruelest experience,
The epitome of every failed attempt.
I’m literally sitting next to a fucking Goddess and the milkman
while they have sloppy drunken sex.
Maybe drive this car off of a fucking bridge,
That would save me the humiliation of looking at myself in the mirror every day.
Ball so fresh,
Will Smith tryin’ to impress me.
Ball so clean,
Mr. Clean tryin’ to arrest me.
Snakeskin Stacy Adams,
Silk neckties I had’ems.
My arrowhead chain is turquoise,
Mohawk like I’m Iroquois,
Don’t need a mirror twice,
The diamonds on my rings suffice.
Martin Wittfooth’s intensely allegorical paintings all suggest the future of the human condition — without showing a single person. The Brooklyn-based painter has transcended the illustrative genre and entered into the realm of modern masterworks, using a time-honored painterly tradition that may be painstaking, but reveals incredible depth in both medium and content. His paintings are haunting in that they have a feeling of real possibility. The familiar scenes hint of dystopia and disrepair; their animal subjects are beautiful, but also betray that something in this world is amiss. In light of the long-awaited recognition and acceptance of climate change, Wittfooth’s work has an undercurrent of forewarning about what could happen if humans don’t get our act together. We spoke to the artist about his post-apocalyptic vision, classic style, and the of using animals instead of people as subjects.
Wake each morning,
staring at the ceiling.
Regret, churning your stomach,
A dead yearning,
You’ve casually promised
To keep-a day that will never come.
Fashion your passions
By the ubiquitous quo.
Avoid answers to questions
You’re too scared to know,
And watch as life passes you by.
Like the strangers around you,
On their own paths to die.
Keep your head down,
Your lips sealed,
And hold your station like a soldier.
With jaded eyes, you’ll realize
That there is no starting over,
You’re not getting any younger
And you’re surely getting older.
History defines people like you and I as herds of cattle.
A pitchfork army of senseless rabble.
Ignominy served as cause for battle,
Heroes ployed by political babble,
Fueled with ignorance and empirical addle.
An ideal cannon fodder model,
Chugging cancers from a plastic bottle.
A flagrant dance with death,
In a post-nuclear two step,
A chemically dependent goose-step.
With microchips as fingertips
The programming of nihilists,
Fueled by a quasi-catharsis.
In this madness,
Nature is an anarchist.
Petrified in human desires….
Artwork: “Dryad” by Roderique Arisiaman.
Enfused, flesh to bark.
Entwined, roots to heart.
Rising from our mothers skin.