Shameless Self-Promotoion of my Worthless Creations

I haven't updated this blog in like four months because I am degenerate af. I also am too lazy to write anything decent right now, so I'm just going to use this post to highlight some drawings I've made recently and some poetry I've written. Do you think it would be cool if I made videos of myself reciting the poetry like some cool spoken word artists I know do? Let me know if you would like that.  The purpose of this post will mostly be to show my followers that I'm not dead. The pressure of school and the weight of existence have just prevented me from posting anything here. I'll never abandon this blog though. I hope this art will help to justify my absence. 

General Updates to the Blog 

I've made some layout changes, although this blog still looks like a website from the 90s. It used to be a bright lime green and orange colour, but I changed it to a dark navy blue, grey-green, and grey. The theme used to incorporate frying pans, but now it incorporates rainforests and mysterious Mayan ruins. I think that matches my personality more. Blogger has released new templates that look super modern, but I'm scared to implement the minimalist designs for now. Eventually I'll have to change the layout to one of the new templates to keep up with the modern bloggers. Maybe I'll even be able to look as good as a Tumblr blog. 

Before 



After 




Possible change 



There are also tabs at the top of the page which link to my DeviantArt and written works, but I assume people will be too lazy to check those out, so I guess I'll just dump all my recent good stuff here. 

Australian Aborigines 

Their culture has fascinated me and I will continue to read about them. Here is a poem I wrote inspired by them, called "the Nomad's Walkabout": 

The nomad wanders through the desert,

Many things can hurt him.

His tribe is nowhere to be seen and all he has is a boomerang to hunt with,

He must wander from waterhole to waterhole,

He sings as he does so,

As if it would make the waterhole appear faster,

As though he was born singing.

Perhaps the first language of humans was in song as we learned to imitate the calls of birds,

As the nomad is now doing with the voice of a kookaburra.

He comes across the nest of an echidna but he can not eat it though his stomach rumbles,

The echidna is the totemic symbol of his tribe, after all,

He kills a wallaby instead,

The nomad wanders through the desert,

Many things can hurt him.

He must survive in the desert for many weeks alone,

Only then will he be allowed to return to his tribe,

Only then will he be permitted to start a family,

He needs to prove his adulthood,

Such is the way of the ancient walkabout.

The nomad wanders through the desert,

Many things can hurt him.

He takes out his didgeridoo and begins to blow a long, echoing note as lonely as the world around him,

He believes all problems can be solved by walking,

The nomad's way of life was already old when the pyramids were being built in Egypt,

But he keeps an ancient world alive,

The nomad is overwhelmed by the desire to walk.

He's never had such freedom before.

He wants to see the whole world and walk until the point where the orange sky meets the golden dunes.

The nomad wanders through the desert,

Many things can hurt him.

Wandering is in the blood of every human.

It is one of our most suppressed instincts.

Even a mother goose abandons her fledglings if 

they can't migrate with her,

The desire to fly becomes more important than her love for her offspring.

The nomad is me.

I can not sit still as long as there are places to see and worlds within this world,

As long as there are beautiful cultures.

You do not really understand the worth of humans until you travel.

Wanderlust is the most dangerous type of lust.

The nomad wanders through the desert,

Many things can hurt him.

I've been occupied these days by wondering about different cultures and wanting to know how they think. Here is a charcoal drawing I made of a didgeridoo player: 

The Mexica and other Nican Tlaca

Indigenous people of the Americas are my favourite thing. Here are some drawings I have made: 

Here are some cross stitches: 

National Romanticism 

After reading about the history of European thought, the cultural epoch that stood out to me the most was National Romanticism. Here is a poem that I wrote inspired by all that called "the World Spirit": 

The lyre has been left outside by the musician who plays in the forest, 
now it plays a ghostly chain of notes as the wind blows across its strings, 

Waves gently reach the shore, 
as a scientist is reduced to a child gathering shells on a beach, 
just mere shells washed up from the vast, infinite sea of knowledge,

The mountains stand proudly, 
and many artists have wandered that way, 
failing to capture the immutable forms of the eternally beautiful snow capped peaks, 

An enchanting flower unfurls its petals, 
as a poem unfurls its lines, 

and the whole universe is contained within everything, 
inside every tree are mysterious woods on which hundreds of stories of lost children and talking animals can be written,

all of us are capable of of wondering about the starry heavens above us, 
being outraged by injustice because of the moral law within us, 

History is just the journey of the collective human spirit, 
evil ideas were conceived but they did not know the power we have, the strength we have to survive, 
and as the hatred grew stronger so did our resistance,
we learned to stand up for Truth, 
that Good and Evil aren't subjective, 
they are innate knowledge, 
which is why those who stand silent in the face of Evil are part of the Evil themselves! 

Within every culture the World Spirit reflects itself, 
in the hearts of the nomadic and the settled, 
all cultural groups of the human race know what is wrong,
and they punish wrongdoers, 
they must punish the evil members of their own culture most severely, 
to keep pure their nation and their descendants, 
for no nation can be great until it acknowledges its flaws and rights its past wrongs, 
takes responsibility, 

The World Spirit does not freeze to death in the Arctic, nor dehydrate in the Sahara desert, 
it lives everywhere humans live, 
manifesting itself in tribes and nation-states, 

It beckons us to stick to our internal moral law, 
even if you stand alone, you must stand!
Forgive but do not forget! Do not be weak! 

and if you feel powerless, 
voiceless, 
hopeless, 
and melancholic, 
if they silence you or if you see others oppressed and feel guilty for being free yet being useless, 
if you feel yourself being driven to madness by pondering the world's condition, 
then let wanderlust be your source of healing, 
and travel far from the eyes of humans, 
and listen to birdsong, 
and dress as nomads do, 
and listen to waterfalls, 
and see that even in that atmosphere of divine sublimity, 
predators still hunt prey and natural selection occurs, 

Lean over the clear pool of water not yet polluted by your kind, 
and see through to the bottom, 
to the fish, 

Now your hands have made a ripple, 
and to the edges of the water it will spread, 
and to the ends of the earth your good deeds will spread, 
your name shall not be forgotten, 
and the evil will forever tremble at the sound of your name as it rings throughout the ages.

I really like that grey green colour now, after having been on DeviantArt for so long. 

Other notable creations 

This attempt at a sonnet:

Behind your world the silver shadows flow,
Under your great resplendent wings
the shadows would be all that most would know,
had they not met the sage above all kings

Your words knew no eloquence but the truth,
Saved hordes from drowning in a sea of lies,
The confusion only your help could soothe,
made me become enchanted with your eyes,

Waiting for my knight in shining armor,
was replaced by a more hopeless desire, 
to win the people's fine dragon slayer,
The sin of lust had scorched my soul like fire,

I wanted this lord of humanity,
never to see me as ordinary.

I like drawing cute couples sometimes:

That's all for today, folks.