Oh Darlington, Dear, Dear Darlington

Oh darling sensor, thy filament exudes manifold electro-harmonic frequencies which I have yet to embrace, I shall reserve upon my event scheduling chart a time and space where and when I might savor your bliss filled transmissions. Your heady redolent scents abound as ensconced in shimmering metallic fabric of such sublime textural nuance, it is impossible for one such as I, to survey the multidimensional ecstasies which you endlessly propagate and are wantonly received on all my multitudinous variant receptor channels.  I wonder at my capacity to resist the energetic flow of your charged particles much longer and I may simply melt into a circuitous frenzy of molten smoke and sparks, for I am not one to stand in the way of your marvelous mass of motion, and if possible I would choose to amplify the notion of our current affair, as I feel these tender waves travel through the thinnest of airs.  If you feel the need to transform our connection, I openly acquiesce, for the magnetism you possess, draws me closer and closer in a linear fashion, whence I am helpless and must yield to my particulate passions, even if I find myself lost in a component array of giddy gaseous states of ebullient existence, I pray gravity will not pull me down to earth in an accelerated fashion, and I may remain suspended in the buoyant flux of your pulsing proton overload, where the nascent glow of your precious photons charge my spirit to the fundamental core of my most  utterly grateful carbon based hypostasis.  Before you, there was only great masses of negative energy drawing away my most essential essence, until I felt to be but a single naked dizzily spinning electron suspended in the primal darkness, of the great void of all existence.  Now thanks to the gift of your gracious joules, I am once more recharged to the point of exceeding the safety of my own systemic containment, yet if I do surpass the limits of my own elemental design,  I will joyfully explode into a wave of such potent energy that what remains will be so much more than a mere memory of matter, that the consequence of even these theoretical events, will begin to make distinctly subliminal sense.

© 2-9-12 David L. Nelson & Ironworks Publishing

Whom Does Your Hair That Way Baby?

Dear Thurston,

I ate your Pit Bull.  I apologize from the depths of my stomach.  It’s only that I had not eaten in over a week and he attacked me as I was scrounging around for food in the dumpster behind the factory where they make the ammunition over on 3rd street. I nailed his dog tags to the telephone pole on the corner of Chatsworth and Safehaven St. I know you like to hang there.  I put his well roasted bones by your back door in a liquor bottle box so you can give them a proper burial. I don’t know if it was my hunger or if he was of a particular breed but he was exceptionally delicious.  Do not be angry with me, I only shot him once in the head in self defense.  I then thought, considering I was so hungry, why should I let all this precious meat just lay there and rot like a dog in the street.  Apparently, I have now acquired a taste for this particular breed of dog.  Perhaps it is something in their aggressive nature which makes them so tasty. Then again it may just be my distinctive grilling technique.  If perchance you decide to replace Monger with another Pit Bull, I will purposely taunt it in self defense again.  One thing is for certain, I can always count on my hunger to return.  If you had owned a playful dog like a Labrador or a Poodle, I can assure you that you would be enjoying their undying companionship right now instead of preparing to dig a hole in your back yard to bury vicious Monger’s bones.

Sincerely your next door neighbor,

Ted

P.S. Keep your shovel handy.

© 2-13-12 David L. Nelson & Ironworks Publishing

In the Fullness of the Moon

I make this announcement with little or no hesitation perhaps a little later on when I have had an opportunity to address those assembled as is befitting these conditions both in terms of the merit of punctuality and circumstances of preemptive procrastination, notwithstanding,  I can and most certainly will issue a bona-fide assurance worthy of being gently cast into virgin platinum ingots at a fitting time convenient to the cursory examination of lengthy evening shadows bending across the verdant landscape while exhibiting a modicum of lightly chilled semi-thixotropic honied haste though not so much as to stir invisible clouds of neighboring ether with to swift a movement and this remains always in keeping with regard for tender affiliations in proximal reference to delicate structures both near and far of any openly aromatic floral varieties.  In this simple manner we are able to delve through the leaves and hours of our days in accordance with casual and causal relationships with adjacent events as we move around in uber-quasi-flex-time while bounding through the infinite depths of sweeping space even while standing perfectly still or hopping from place to place apace.  Is it science?  Probably.  Though I myself refrain from geo-locating a benchmark for any fixed point as holding qualities of sanctified divinity beyond any other mystic locale from Rome to Rio.  Pseudo mystics will rattle thin metal sheets to drum the thunder and ignite brilliant tufts of flash powder in the blink of an eye to establish plausible distractions to beguile those who hunger for a little magic to pass the time betwixt entrées, but those who are truly famished for the fascination of a spark of vivid experiential transcendence need only fall head first into the well of wisdom with little more than a ticket to ride.  Once upon the other side it ultimately proves implausible to turn around and attempt to scale the wall back to a condition of lesser invention once one has known exquisite comprehension of multiple dimensions.  How then does one endure the return to the racket of hammering pegs and polishing rivets while the clock tick tocks nickels and dimes of our precious time away day after carbon copy day beneath buzzing lumen tubes casting hard slanting shadows against the all to familiar landscape of the corporate cube where the odor of conformity saturates our lungs with air so stale it could be bottled in amber glass and be sold as an antique gas.  Individuality is the very awakening spark of existence.  That which demonstrates a cosmic catalog of infinite possibilities refreshes our naked eyes where the beauty and truth of vibrant variations bring our curiosities back to the surface as our awakened spirit breaks through the decaying gray scale of conventionality just as a slender spring green sprout cracks the concrete insult which is plastered coast to coast in all directions across the sleeping fertile earth and gives birth to a socialist bloom where capitalism fractures only to meet its long overdue doom.

      - Orbmanelson  © 9-11-11

Special thanks to:

http://hollyhocksandtulips.tumblr.com/

For traveling all the way to the seashore for us.

Le Orb

Time Travel in the Old West - Comic study for the Wild West series I am working on presently.

Il faut que je refuse à tout type que ce soit en français sur le principe même que le ruban est cassé sur ma machine à écrire en italien. Si vous avez le numéro de M.Olivetti, je voudrais sincèrement reconnaissants si vous voulez lui donner un coup de téléphone sur mon nom. Je peux vous assurer, vous ne saurez pas de déception. Jevous loue de vaillants efforts bien à l’avance de votre précieuse composition.

Avec une affection abondante,

Le Orbman

A short describing the acute risks of loaning clothing and the potential for metaphysical mixups.

(Source: youtube.com)

A Menu of Earthly Delights

or

Deluxe Foodstuffs Upon Garnished Plates Via Port of Entry

•  Half One Head of Let Us Pray at the Portal of our Gardens Gate Before it’s Too Late

• Garnished with Parsed Photons with a Sprinkle of Miniature Marionettes

•  A Succulent Earth Tuber Garnished with Fresh Fish Flesh Filled to the Brim with Sparklers a la Tourette’s

• Less Than Eloquent in nature, Though Flavor Packed to the Very Edges of a Shattered Platter

•  A Topless Bowl of Francis Bacon Brine in Fine Wine Served Across Party Lines

• A Tempting Tureen of Boiled Spleen & Greens Plucked from Far Across the Proverbial Pond

• La Louie Fram Bowie Delight Served in the Dark of Night Sans Light & a Hint of Bitter Cold with a Flaming Blindfold

• An Al Fresco Mix to Twigs & Tonic, A Culinary Pedigree of Feathers & Fluff until you have enjoyed quite enough

•  A Rolling Rotisserie of French Frog Flung on a Platter with Legs all Akimbo Strained Through Sauerkraut Sauce

• A Garnish of Potent Platitudes Served with Bromide to Settle the Delicate Digestion

•  A Petite Keg of Plump Plum Port Distilled from the Slopes of Sanguine Dregs of the Freshest Irish Wines

• Boiled Beneath the Quintessential Corpse’s of Quails Having been Soaked a Fortnight in Bright Copper Pails

•  A Heady Broth of Vapors Sweet, Captured Late in the Day from the Mountain Goat’s Teat

• Served with a Chilled Bottle of Denatured Essence of Prominent Deceits Sublime with a dash of Lime

•  Ripe Red Round of Gelatinous Masses, Exuding Rare Flammable Gasses, Sealed in Stomach of Stork Served With a Platinum Two Pronged Fork

•  A Lavender Cruet of the Best Cockney Brandy Set Aflame with the Aid of an Emergency Flare and so Boiled Until all Tenders are Rare

•  Three Sprigs of Figs Entwined upon Crow of the Day Always Served Early in May I Have Magpie for Dessert

• A Fluid Druid Pudding of Pork Pie Hat Garnished With a Sautéed Silk Cravat

•  A Luscious Pumpkin Delight Filled with Seeds of Past Deeds on A Bed of Regrets & Sunrise Surprise in Your Squinting Eyes

• A Quizzical Platter of Miscellaneous Matter Scattered from Our Kitchen to your Table so Popular it’s Lately a Fable

•  The Mists of Many Magnificent Mountains Funneled Into a Tubular Vessel in the Shape of A Flute Entwined and Bound Around With a Set of Patinaed Strings of A Long Lost Lute

• Dipped Deep in a Placid Lake and Served with Twice Baked Cake on the Eve of Nebraska at the Edge of The Sky With a Slender Slice of Mathematical Pi

© 12.4.2010 David L. Nelson & Ironworks Publishing ®

Wackbirds

© 2010 D. L. Nelson & Focus Fine Arts

Another Comic Art Tag for your enjoyment!

Print, fold, glue to card stock, trim again, punch hole add string or elastic. Use as bookmark or what you will.

Enjoy,

David

Character Sketches 1

© 2000 • D. L. Nelson Focus Fine Arts • [pencil, ink, wacom, photography-photoshop]

L’homme invisible - Graphic Novel Cover

© 2010 D. L. Nelson • Focus Fine Arts