Week one of Inktober and lemme just say...it's been a hell of while since I posted on my blog. Whoa. Just whoa. Anyways...pardon the dust. The cobwebs. The...yeah. I've tried to stay continuous with posting on blogger and it was just beyond difficult with my physical conditions. I will try to make myself more available.  So what is Inktober? It's a drawing initiative with a set of prompts originally started by illustrator Jake Parker. World wide, people use the #inktober hashtag along with #inktober2017 on various social platforms to point and click their way through, connecting with other artists and viewing their work. It's super cool. I didn't have much in the way of colored inks or pens, but did have traditional Japanese brush inks, ballpoints, rollerballs, office pens, gel pens, markers, highlighters, and a few oil based markers. Whatever I had at my arms reach, I just decided to get to work and just proceed to draw.  I watched a...

Death to the selfie. The self imposed zombies  Bumping into walls from tablets and cellies Enter belly of the beast Nuisance Technology. The one word responses  The constant scrolling tours The apps glorified open The texts with binary whores. The rate system on book of face Give me a number, Direct message me for gratification of a taste. Men posing harder than females for double taps Click here Hips here Mirrors flash. Hashtag wars in 140 Followers only Internet famous for conformity Must check the post The tag The alert The comment The response Ring a ding ding Look at my bling I can finance A brand new cell phone.  Fuck all other in MySpace This is my space Head down See the top of my crown Click  Clack Keyboard tap If I call before I text they mad. Simple "k" Is okay. Acronyms become decoder rings, we  Become secret agents in labyrinth strings  Twisted and curled in a network bound of  Google and Siri, Bing, and remember that Dial up thing? You've...

I wish I were an artist. Trace your curvature of lines in vivid detail and remark on the thickness smooth lips as they intense with hues of graphite and stencil. Wish I could paint vividly. an encased reverie of just you and I to become we. oh, how I wish to be the stroke on your body and retrace its endings and firm beginnings, retold in pastels, water soluble paints and revamped historical perspectives. I only wish to capture the image of you. Recapture the soul and eyes of orbs encased in the human skull so hard to shift elements in globs of watercolor. tell tales of high cheekbones and broad shoulders free following of a pencil in raised eyebrows and sympathetic frowns. A white eraser clings nearby, swiftly chasing hopes and dreams, lines drawn dark holed black and now vanishing  in dematerialized crumpled portraits. -b.r.rivera Poem 22 of 30, April 2012 #30in30

She's a shell, you know. Some sort of fat humpty dumpty look a like skin un-kissed by the warmth of the sun. She's never seen what its like to allow the dimples to careen into deep valleys whiten the glazed over eyes of youth in almost porcelain enamels challenge the hurried hours in a curl of a moist lip. who knows what enters the mind at the middle of the playground dust and dirt kicked up to the pressed starchiness and itchiness of stockings. A reminder of delicate legs and shapely hips, bursting out to enter adolescence but pulled back in ribbons and plaits worn in her time. they scream at her, you know. some kind of words learned from their environment where the mother is a bitch from handing the daddies their plates cold the father is a motherfucker from a stain of red on a collar the dog is a shitter from a pound where only mixed breeds die and the child still lays in the womb as audio obscenities blast auto-tune in its fetal po...

I am a simple face in a sea of the crowd Its ocean deep not necessarily still, its ripples a disruption to the ordinary me. I am just me. A little bit of this, A little bit of that. Sprinkle of some sugar Spoonful of lemon juice Glaze of two cakes. and I don't define what is commonality. In other words Who can compare to me? My uniqueness is just like any other's which creates the strong sense that we are all alike in the long run. Average, run of the mill, desperate for attention to separate us from the ravenous pack of wolves, its teeth abundant in oppression. I am a simple face a little mouth a little eyes a little nose a little bit of surprise in an ocean that engulfs all of us. -b.r.rivera-taylor 6 of 30 #30in30

I was told a soul weighs an ounce. technically, 1/3000 of an ounce by East German researching teams trying to identify and solidify the measure of terminally ill by  scientific means. if I lived a measured life and fulfilled that dash in between my obituary surely the valuation of evil versus good breathed life from my capillaries dispensed in beating chest and blood filled veins and air upon oxygen in which I cannot breathe again. I was told a soul weighs an ounce. the type of treasure that shakes the body upon departure and blind light seeks a new home travelling into unknown dimensions would Peter open the gates to me staring blind eyed at my name clipboard in hand/Excel charted progress of the life I gave and gained would the power of the mere beauty be somewhat unimaginable to me could angels really fly and have wings snipped upon choice will horns blast and heavens part as a sign of entering with rejoice can I bear witness to seraphim and golden str...