don't touch me

looking at me as i look at you in the distance of your memories

undulating arch

Amidst abandoned thinking, i found a grain of lost thoughts that comprised a sentence of forward thinking
I bagged the distance between them and suspended our fate
Not to begin with a clean slate
but to alleviate and release the destruction in the echo of your emptying

In the middle of a single thought, the selfish caresses of your love mended my lost acquisitions
hurried along the distant lines of unsureness
inducing a surge of spurious propositions
culminating in an agonizing indecision

"We could have been so good together," precisely delaying the endless "never"
the lashing blows of time
the piercing glance of strangers
the unavoidable encounters with fate's danger
with clever thoughts, we could have been cutting the truth with sharp endeavors

it's easy

i am your option while you are my priority

"I don't want to see you go... i want somebody to love me" ---- "Somebody to love me" by Mark Ronson and Boy George

after a chance meeting, between moments and a glance
needing to see you live
indicating a causal annunciation of the desirable lance
that ideal knife that stabs our heart with
promised plight
your kisses announced destruction with might

we interpreted a luminous ideological connection
amidst tacit emotions of hopes and fears
between strangers in a suspected rumination
among the shards of hurt tears
earning a first place within the cliches of disillusion

i stopped time to give you a place in my universe
to build you an effigy of artistic possibilities
unleashed in a castle of verses
where dualities enrich promises of tomorrow's memories

i don't want to wonder how fate treats those who reject love
insulating thoughts with options
and predicting decisions with causal bluff
which do not define their intentions

the precedence of my affection for you
dichotommized the absolute protection of your emotions
between what is neither malice nor possession
but rather pure love and goodness, emanating from the realm of the true,
the place i was creating for me and you

in you i thought i had found a different kind of originality
a curious adoration of comfortability
unparalleled to past lessons in life
rife with disappointments and inequality
but rather i found typical insecurity
and the duality of the unsure eyes

artist's lesson

(disclaimer):
this image is mine. i captured it and i own it. if this image is taken from this post, i will sue you...lol... nah, seriously, please do NOT steal this image. and if you do, leave a comment telling me that you are going to use it, with contact information. i am the author of this thought
alexeis reyes

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m9ej-GSb7MQ

that reproduction of beauty

"...artworks are embodied meanings." Arthur Danto

IN an attempt to produce a beautiful image, the meaning of which is an intention of desired beauty, i managed to create a blur, a disillusioned idea: it is the most frustrating thing to fuck up a copper plate. it is not b/c i do not know what i am doing, but it is b/c the print shop where i work is chaotic and disorganized. it is as though i am learning how to etch all over again. whenever i think i have made progress, something in the shop is fucked up and it messes up my work. DAM! (i needed to vent).

art production, in particular print making, is a delicate process in which time is of the essence. any factors that go against this process, delay the end results. there is a certain duality, which demarcates the process itself from the inspired idea. furthermore, this duality articulates the end results by given preference to intention rather than experimentation. in doing so, you are able to explore with intention, enabling the plate to unfold before your eyes. if other "things" happen during this process, things which you did not intend to happen, the plate loses purpose and the image is no longer pure. what i mean by pure is that the image is tainted with unexpected nuisances of which you knew nothing about, and their appearance on the plate negates precisely the very essence of the intended image. so then you need to solve those problems that you were not counting on and it complicates the process. then the original idea is no longer solid; the interpretation of the image becomes a process of 'trying to salvage the image,' which has lost its original direction. if you are a perfectionist like me, you start all over again. i want the purest image to surface, if that is too much, then so be it. one good thing comes out of this, however, and that is that your skills become enhanced, and you learn to problem solve with creativity. i love print-making: it is what i was born to do.

"... there are conditions necessary and sufficient for something to be an artwork, regardless of time and place." Arthur Danto.

touch me

paper music

constructing you

knocked down by your eyes

the first time you saw me in the hallway, you did not know what to do with yourself. back in the fall of 2009, you looked at me as if you had never seen any one like me. your stare was so penetrating that it made me feel as though i could not speak to you. caught in your gaze i felt like a little kid who does not have the words to express any sort of emotional response. i was stunned and flattered, but could not express it. you froze me with your eyes. paralyzed, i got excited by the idea of meeting someone as cute as you. when you were staring at me, i did not know what to do.

the first time i saw you, i caught the back of your body. i had no clue how you looked in the front. magnetized by your energy, i was pulled to you as a magnet pulls another. when i got to the coffee station where you were standing, you walked away. i did not get to see your face in that instance. only feel your alluring energy, which i sought uncontrollably without really knowing why. that day, pushed by the radiating essence of your existence, i searched all over the building for you. when i had given up, we ran into each other on the fourth floor of our school. than you slapped me with that look, as if you could not help but stare.

the charge of energy you threw at me is still stuck on my skin. i try hard to not let it soak me, but to no avail it consumes me each time i see you (or think of the first day i saw you). you will probably never read this lines (wishful thinking), but they are the only link i have to the memory that moment. even though you saw me today and acted very nonchalant, the look you gave me as you were exiting my floor revealed there might still be some interest. i am the coward for not taken the time to say hi, after you have clearly gone out of your way to say hi and smile.

the way in which you looked at me the first time you saw me left me speechless. like a mute. unable to speak the gladness which surged through my veins the instance your glance touched my eyes. even if we never speak after today's exchange, i still had the pleasure of saying hello. even if you did not look at me as you said hello back. i could live with that. i must admit that it took months to untangle my self from the intensity of your gaze. it took weeks to shake it off. i would still like a chance meeting with you.

i waited too long to say hello. i became tongue tide. i lost my confidence. your eyes punched me and knocked me down.

Female incarnation