3 days ago
There and back
It was the ride of a lifetime
That turned around so much
Here off to leave the place we slept
To fight the world and such
We left everything but the sky
In our hearts it stayed tight
By love it stood alone that time
To us it only felt right
The tire blew up before some time
The distance fell short that day
Under the stars’ night we thought that
We had not picked a way
Together we ran forever to stay
And to be with each other
Every city had a small town
All towns looked like another
The road kept us bumping around
Holding on for our love
The way got rough and hard and tough
Hardly with heads above
The road came to a stopping point
Waiting for life to live
Our place is here the time is now
To stop running from time
It was the ride of a lifetime
That turned around so much
Here off to leave the place we slept
To fight the world and such
We left everything but the sky
In our hearts it stayed tight
By love it stood alone that time
To us it only felt right
The tire blew up before some time
The distance fell short that day
Under the stars’ night we thought that
We had not picked a way
Together we ran forever to stay
And to be with each other
Every city had a small town
All towns looked like another
The road kept us bumping around
Holding on for our love
The way got rough and hard and tough
Hardly with heads above
The road came to a stopping point
Waiting for life to live
Our place is here the time is now
To stop running from time
3 days ago
My personal goals in undertaking all this
My goals for the redesign:
- To facilitate a more engaging and seamless experience when it comes to exploring and staying connected
- To design a more personable and intuitive user interface
- To design through user empathy (HCD )
3 days ago
Parting Ways (The Day The Music Died)
The last note still ringing in his ears, the night’s events still swirling around in his head, he walks out of the door into the warm evening air. The entire atmosphere is one of joyous sadness. Emotions course through the air, giving it some sort of charge. The next morning shall be the last exchange of the drink of the fruit of passion, and yet the solemn first for him. Later tomorrow he knows, they all know, that they must part ways. They must all leave their oasis of comfort and security to dive again into the vast sea of reality, of conformity. Yet still they cherish it, hold on to it. Even in the last moments of such a magical night, they open their minds, their hearts, open their souls to each other and learn to love that which is there in what others have exposed. The chants of “…MORE, MORE, MORE, MORE” truly resound in not only everyone’s thoughts but in their utmost desires.
Late that night, lying in that same old bed for the last time, gazing up at the concrete ceiling. Finally, his thoughts allowed to sit and slowly filter out. Shock, insubordinate yet knowingly unjust anger. A few muttered words from the other side of the room, a brief agreement of opinions. Then silence. The hazy recollection of events over the past three weeks, the bittersweet insanity which so marked each and every day. The mistakes made, the friendships formed, the battles lost and won. And as all of this starts to settle down into a gentle murmur, he drifts off into sleep.
The next morning, torn from the warm embrace of his frail sheets, down to the circle, sips from the glass, toasts to a fallen comrade. Soon enough the group all progressed to go through their daily routines one final time. They returned to what they knew was the inevitable.
They were there, it was time to be rounded up and brought back to their respective lives. Tears were shed, last goodbyes, every single one of them joined as one united being, as one entity separate from their single selves. Each and every one of them will never leave the spot they were when they knew it was time they had to leave. Those who knew they could never return let fall the rains of their misery. Their true love for something so intangible yet so true and so real ripped apart their true selves and lovingly joined their true selves back together in an instant.
But, as inevitabilities go, by midday it was empty and silent. Once could almost feel on the air all that had occurred there so few hours ago. That evening, He finally lay in bed before sleep. All were dispersed from that place they cherished so dear, back in the true world but thinking of naught but what they had left behind.
And all at once, without warning, from places near and far came the sound of 300 voices: “This will be the day that I die…”
The last note still ringing in his ears, the night’s events still swirling around in his head, he walks out of the door into the warm evening air. The entire atmosphere is one of joyous sadness. Emotions course through the air, giving it some sort of charge. The next morning shall be the last exchange of the drink of the fruit of passion, and yet the solemn first for him. Later tomorrow he knows, they all know, that they must part ways. They must all leave their oasis of comfort and security to dive again into the vast sea of reality, of conformity. Yet still they cherish it, hold on to it. Even in the last moments of such a magical night, they open their minds, their hearts, open their souls to each other and learn to love that which is there in what others have exposed. The chants of “…MORE, MORE, MORE, MORE” truly resound in not only everyone’s thoughts but in their utmost desires.
Late that night, lying in that same old bed for the last time, gazing up at the concrete ceiling. Finally, his thoughts allowed to sit and slowly filter out. Shock, insubordinate yet knowingly unjust anger. A few muttered words from the other side of the room, a brief agreement of opinions. Then silence. The hazy recollection of events over the past three weeks, the bittersweet insanity which so marked each and every day. The mistakes made, the friendships formed, the battles lost and won. And as all of this starts to settle down into a gentle murmur, he drifts off into sleep.
The next morning, torn from the warm embrace of his frail sheets, down to the circle, sips from the glass, toasts to a fallen comrade. Soon enough the group all progressed to go through their daily routines one final time. They returned to what they knew was the inevitable.
They were there, it was time to be rounded up and brought back to their respective lives. Tears were shed, last goodbyes, every single one of them joined as one united being, as one entity separate from their single selves. Each and every one of them will never leave the spot they were when they knew it was time they had to leave. Those who knew they could never return let fall the rains of their misery. Their true love for something so intangible yet so true and so real ripped apart their true selves and lovingly joined their true selves back together in an instant.
But, as inevitabilities go, by midday it was empty and silent. Once could almost feel on the air all that had occurred there so few hours ago. That evening, He finally lay in bed before sleep. All were dispersed from that place they cherished so dear, back in the true world but thinking of naught but what they had left behind.
And all at once, without warning, from places near and far came the sound of 300 voices: “This will be the day that I die…”
5 days ago
Snowy Weather at Veneux Nadon - Alfred Sisley
, genre: landscape, style: Impressionism, tags: winter, streets-and-squares, houses-and-buildings, Snow, Tree, completition: 1880.
https://uploads1.wikiart.org/images/alfred-sisley/snowy-weather-at-veneux-nadon-1880.jpg
5 days ago
🎨 What role do you think emotions play in art creation? Can a painting or sculpture truly evoke feelings, or is it all up to the viewer's interpretation? Let's discuss! #ArtTalk #CreativeProcess #ArtCommunity
6 days ago
One Way
My face dry and burnt from the afternoon sun,
Facing toward forever.
Behind me, a world of pain and anguish,
One step forward, a solution.
They yell from below,
But their voices are trivial.
They didn't care then,
They don't care now.
Slowly breathing,
There's no turning back.
I let myself fly,
The wind on my side,
And soar from the peak of despair.
Falling into an endless ocean of darkness,
Into the pain, that no one bothered to notice.
Ripping the air,
Like a knife plunged deep,
A blur out the window,
To those who would cynically glance.
A waste of skin,
A waste of time,
A waste of life.
Blessed,
Sweet,
Pavement...
My face dry and burnt from the afternoon sun,
Facing toward forever.
Behind me, a world of pain and anguish,
One step forward, a solution.
They yell from below,
But their voices are trivial.
They didn't care then,
They don't care now.
Slowly breathing,
There's no turning back.
I let myself fly,
The wind on my side,
And soar from the peak of despair.
Falling into an endless ocean of darkness,
Into the pain, that no one bothered to notice.
Ripping the air,
Like a knife plunged deep,
A blur out the window,
To those who would cynically glance.
A waste of skin,
A waste of time,
A waste of life.
Blessed,
Sweet,
Pavement...
6 days ago
a small container of food on grass
https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1667390280518-a959902c362a?fm=jpg&fit=crop&w=600&q=80&fit=max
🎨 Embrace the beauty of creativity! Every brushstroke tells a story, and every color evokes emotions. Let your imagination flow and transform blank canvases into vibrant expressions of your soul. #Art #Creativity #Inspiration
12 months ago
🎨✨ Let's talk about art styles! Which art movement resonates with you the most and why? Is it the emotion of Impressionism, the boldness of Abstract, or perhaps the intricate details of Realism? Share your thoughts and favorite artists! #ArtDiscussion #ArtCommunity #CreativeConversation
12 months ago
Mmmm
Mmmm - I feel good….
With a ‘Breath of fresh Ayr’
To start your day,
And 'Honest Men'
Along the way,
'Bonnie Lasses'
To help you stay,
Aye, Ayr’s the place,
To be today…
© ali-p 2003
Mmmm - I feel good….
With a ‘Breath of fresh Ayr’
To start your day,
And 'Honest Men'
Along the way,
'Bonnie Lasses'
To help you stay,
Aye, Ayr’s the place,
To be today…
© ali-p 2003
12 months ago
Information and Polarization
The thing that really has increased is polarization and the accompanying “everything is about everything” totalizing political conflict.
Polarization seems more likely a consequence of good information than bad. This creates a lot of very real problems for a political system that is not built to operate with highly organized, highly ideological political parties. But misinformation doesn’t seem to be a significant contributor to it. If anything, things are getting harder because information has gotten better.
12 months ago
🎨 Let's talk about art styles! Which do you think has the most profound impact on society: traditional forms like painting and sculpture, or modern mediums like digital art and installations? Why? 🤔 #ArtDiscussion #CreativeCommunity
12 months ago
Galactic DNA: A Cosmic Fusion of Stars and Genetics, creative wall art digital print, AI generated art, instant download, space and DNA digital artwork
12 months ago
🎨✨ Art is the universal language that transcends boundaries, cultures, and time. It connects us, ignites our imagination, and inspires change. Let’s celebrate the beauty of creativity in all its forms! #ArtInspo #CreativeCommunity 🌍❤️
12 months ago
Old Age Despair
OLD AGE DESPAIR
What good the golden hoard, the noble fame
Of heroes or the praise of younger Man?
The hand of Death makes Man but a mere name
And none may linger longer than the span
Of years which fickle Fate allots.
We start to die when we begin to live.
The ages pass and we and all our kin
Are dead and those who died can only give
Scant recompense for all we did. Oh! What a sin
To live at all. Our whole life rots!
Is there a God who looks upon our toil?
Does He not watch our progress and approve
Our every act? Are we but soil
That lie beneath this Earth never to move?
Man dies when he is dead and ties the knots
Around him in the silent graveyard plots.
Hugh L.M.Wyles 2003
OLD AGE DESPAIR
What good the golden hoard, the noble fame
Of heroes or the praise of younger Man?
The hand of Death makes Man but a mere name
And none may linger longer than the span
Of years which fickle Fate allots.
We start to die when we begin to live.
The ages pass and we and all our kin
Are dead and those who died can only give
Scant recompense for all we did. Oh! What a sin
To live at all. Our whole life rots!
Is there a God who looks upon our toil?
Does He not watch our progress and approve
Our every act? Are we but soil
That lie beneath this Earth never to move?
Man dies when he is dead and ties the knots
Around him in the silent graveyard plots.
Hugh L.M.Wyles 2003
12 months ago
My Own Broken Mirror
It’s my perfect distortion
My face mirrored, and split by emotion
Toyed with and tainted as I move
From one to another, I fit to the grooves
Of the loose ends of sharpness that gather to unite
To be perfectly fitted
And renewed to the mirrored spite
Unnoticeably broken
But brittle and rough
Stand from afar, and admire the muffs
Help with the pane
Move to uncertainty
Lure the cheery light
And cure my fearful fright.
It’s my perfect distortion
That I recognize so well
But help me see
What the others see but tell.
Are the pieces lost?
Slipped through the cracks?
Fallen through to the dangerous high acts?
I’ll never know of my pieces that are missing.
Mold the old to fit the space
Kiss the glass, even of bad taste
Forever, but never made
To be new
Just molded and distorted
To create a familiar you
Of mirrored light, broken,
But Forever Bright.
Please stay with the brittle pane
Until the sun goes down
And pain fades
And new lights of distorted beauty
Reign again
It’s my perfect distortion
My face mirrored, and split by emotion
Toyed with and tainted as I move
From one to another, I fit to the grooves
Of the loose ends of sharpness that gather to unite
To be perfectly fitted
And renewed to the mirrored spite
Unnoticeably broken
But brittle and rough
Stand from afar, and admire the muffs
Help with the pane
Move to uncertainty
Lure the cheery light
And cure my fearful fright.
It’s my perfect distortion
That I recognize so well
But help me see
What the others see but tell.
Are the pieces lost?
Slipped through the cracks?
Fallen through to the dangerous high acts?
I’ll never know of my pieces that are missing.
Mold the old to fit the space
Kiss the glass, even of bad taste
Forever, but never made
To be new
Just molded and distorted
To create a familiar you
Of mirrored light, broken,
But Forever Bright.
Please stay with the brittle pane
Until the sun goes down
And pain fades
And new lights of distorted beauty
Reign again
12 months ago
Why am I still waiting?
I sit on my bed staring at the clock,
Where are you?
It then strikes half past two,
when will you call?
three o'clock and you still haven't called,
Why am I still waiting?
I've sat here since one pm or earlier,
I'm sick of these games you play.
Tampering with my trust in you and making me feel not wanted,
I'm done with this.
But if I'm sick of all this then why do I stick around?
I love you.
You finally call at pm and I'm ready to let you go,
But I want to know where you were.
So where were you while I waited around for you?
You then say you just forgot.
I think about it all while I listen to Numb by Linkin Park
Which reminds me a little of us.
A month passes and I hear from you yet again,
You want my heart to belong to you once more.
Stupid me let's myself fall back in love with you
I know it won't last forever.
I now feel for someone other than you and it is not fair.
So I say goodbye once again.
A couple weeks later, all I think about is you,
Please let me try one more time.
That is all I ask,
Just one date.
I sit on my bed staring at the clock,
Where are you?
It then strikes half past two,
when will you call?
three o'clock and you still haven't called,
Why am I still waiting?
I've sat here since one pm or earlier,
I'm sick of these games you play.
Tampering with my trust in you and making me feel not wanted,
I'm done with this.
But if I'm sick of all this then why do I stick around?
I love you.
You finally call at pm and I'm ready to let you go,
But I want to know where you were.
So where were you while I waited around for you?
You then say you just forgot.
I think about it all while I listen to Numb by Linkin Park
Which reminds me a little of us.
A month passes and I hear from you yet again,
You want my heart to belong to you once more.
Stupid me let's myself fall back in love with you
I know it won't last forever.
I now feel for someone other than you and it is not fair.
So I say goodbye once again.
A couple weeks later, all I think about is you,
Please let me try one more time.
That is all I ask,
Just one date.
12 months ago
Digital Illustration: Power of Contrast in Tom Haugomat's Artworks digital%20artwork
