Cillie Barnes
pre-raphaelisme:

When Apples Were Golden and Songs Were Sweet but Summer Had Passed Away by John Melhuish Strudwick, 1906.

pre-raphaelisme:

When Apples Were Golden and Songs Were Sweet but Summer Had Passed Away by John Melhuish Strudwick, 1906.

x-lu:

矢田寺 紫陽花の小径
109pm:

Species unknown
Toolangi, VictoriaEarly Winter, June 2014Taken on 60mm Macro, Canon 600D

109pm:

Species unknown

Toolangi, Victoria
Early Winter, June 2014
Taken on 60mm Macro, Canon 600D

megazal:

07 14 2014 (via Ryosuke S)
Jiminy

Everything changed direction post the golden couch.

I don’t know what I expected. To fly away? To turn this couch into the magic bus?

Explore intestines? The inner-workings of white blood cells?

I got lost in the entrapment of which role i was playing. 

Teacher, or student? Excuse me, which one am I?

Shouting it into the echo of the canyons…

Which one, which one, which one.. Am I, am I, am I?

In which case, no one learns. 

Without direction, the course seems never-ending..

I miss reading plays. Heavy dialogue. Subtext. 

Putting faces to ideas. 

Imagination being endless and all.

The importance of a well placed vase.

The importance of pronouncing it vase.

Would it hold snapdragons or orchids?

Lillies or Chamomile?

What would this tell you about this character’s current situation?

Who brought them?

Are they freshly cut? Are they wilting?

Do they symbolize grievance or betrayel? 

Celebration or Love?

The tar burns down thick between my fingers. Feels weird, once you’ve had something hold that place between the pointer and middle for so long to not hold anything there at all. 

The smoke swirls up and around, the way I imagine a delicate dragon’s smoke to do after it’s unrelenting fire-breath. 

The village is scared and.. without good reason.

The brittleness of my hair - it’s broken ends, neglected and sad, smelling faintly of apple cider vinegar and persian roses, soak up the ash with quiet desperation. 

Tomorrow I’ll wake, disappointed in the smell I can’t seem to kick.

My dog itches with fleas. She’s on steroids to quell the instinct, making her sleepy and cuddly like a baby lamb. 

The roommates are asleep and the chandelier inside flickers through the iron gate, bragging with each flash, showy with its two newly replaced bulbs.

The others look on, jealous, trying to keep up. They’re on their last limb. 

Athena stands, coyly in the garden, shy, a come hither look in her eye, and a blue yarn around her neck. I’m afraid to take it off, in fear that her granite head might fall off , tumbling to the ground, smashing on the bricks below. Bricks covered in fluorescent chalks to mask their antiquity. Or at her feet, it might crash, upon the soil, above the donuts my itchy dog has buried in the dirt. That have learned to co-exist with the worms and the jerusalem crickets.

Nervous of destroying the only clear conscious she has left.

lulabox:

flower | via Tumblr en We Heart It.

lulabox:

flower | via Tumblr en We Heart It.

So it seems another year has passed by. Another pink moon, blessed by the red moon eclipse, followed by Easter as most people call it.

I celebrate Eostre and Ishtar this time of year.
Both beautiful strong goddesses that bring the combined message of War, Sex, Love, Fertility, Birth and of course rebirth.
The shedding off of skin in order to make room for new skin. New Ideas, New Art, and New Love.
I’ve been working on a batch of new songs lately, feeling thankful to all of you that have reminded me what I’m doing isn’t entirely selfish, but to hopefully be heard and affective to you. I feel humbled, and appreciative and ready to embrace this new path and in light of that, decided to post my favorite song from my EP, “Solstice” and tell you a bit about why I wrote it and where I’m heading towards next.
Solstice, I wrote in a time of confusion, to illustrate my weaknesses. As much as I like to take the high road and strive for the esoteric and the earth, the naturally formed crystals, getting back to the root of all roots. The Book of the Dead, I was reading at the time, looking for an answer to it all. 
It’s hard with modern conveniences and the quick fixes that have sprung out of this ADD generation to sometimes just BE PRESENT. I am a scatterbrain that worries about money, feels guilty about eating horrible food, wastes too much time on reality TV and that is what I consider my Achilles Heel. I’ve got it. And it’s me. I am my own worst enemy when it comes to clearing a path for the greater good. For the higher art and understanding. 
We’re living in a time where it’s easy to get distracted by flashy things, and high stakes. Occum’s razor teaches us that the quickest way to happiness, or to the answer, is the shortest path. The most obvious journey. 
So by calling out my flaws, the duplicitousness of it all, I’m hoping to shine a light on all corners of the darkness. 
Let’s make life easier for our neighbors, for our friends, for our sisters and our brothers. Let’s elevate. 
So here’s that song… and with that… I’m creating new room to give birth to this next batch of things. Always up.. Sometimes sideways.. But always moving. 
I love and cherish all of you and your support and hope you feel me like I feel y’all. 
Love Love Love.
~ Cillie
What a dream!

What a dream!

amospoe:

"This happens. This is something that happens."
— from “Magnolia” by Paul Thomas Anderson

amospoe:

"This happens. This is something that happens."

— from “Magnolia” by Paul Thomas Anderson

Cillie Barnes - Veranda RAC Mix
835 plays

someonetoldmeabout:

I’ve never heard a sweeter betrayal.

Cillie Barnes - Veranda RAC Mix