My save haven.

Ravens and Doves are welcome.

The poetry & prose say it all. My own personal renaissance.

A time of development.

An enlightenment of age.

asylum-art:

_NSFW_

Lola Dupre

Lola Dupré is a collage artist and illustrator currently working near Avignon in the south of France. From 2000 to 2011, she worked in Glasgow, Scotland, at the Chateau Studios and then from the Chalet Studios. With scissors, glue, and whole lot of patience, Dupré creates unique visual landscapes that are inspired, humorous, and aesthetically pleasing. Recent clients and collaborators include, Nike + Doubleday & Cartwright, New York Magazine, Flair Magazine Italia and Die Welt.

(via asylum-art)

Who is this faerieWho doth stand so still amidst the weeds
She is a fair one, yet rarely is she so meekto reveal the face we all seek
To reach for mine handand watch her world proceed
The woods that are around usthe creatures that surround us
They look beyond what can be seen… 

[falling, flittering, glittering seeds
waters rushing and winds gushing
shooting—- is the scene;
my blood is spilled, against the trees so rough
I ask you, how many gallons until the atonement is enough
I have raped, murdered, and thieved deep into the night
pillaged the solemn woods, for a thought I thought right] 

What will be and what is, in the eyes of the childare as a faerie’s, at nature; wild
that faerie, that drags her arm uppoints her finger to make it all the same
shoots her gaze at us and drowns us with the blame

Who is this faerie
Who doth stand
so still amidst the weeds

She is a fair one,
yet rarely is she so meek
to reveal the face we all seek

To reach for mine hand
and watch her world proceed

The woods that are around us
the creatures that surround us

They look beyond what can be seen… 

[falling, flittering, glittering seeds

waters rushing and winds gushing

shooting—- is the scene;

my blood is spilled, against the trees so rough

I ask you, how many gallons until the atonement is enough

I have raped, murdered, and thieved deep into the night

pillaged the solemn woods, for a thought I thought right] 

What will be and what is, in the eyes of the child
are as a faerie’s, at nature; wild

that faerie, that drags her arm up
points her finger to make it all the same

shoots her gaze at us and drowns us with the blame

(Source: inewblogger, via pankmagazine)

bjorkfr:

Björk - Nouvel album en 2015photo : Páll Stefánsson

bjorkfr:

Björk - Nouvel album en 2015
photo : Páll Stefánsson

I’ll take this pen and pierce my veinsI’ll dip the nib into my ink
I’ll tear apart the martyrs and saintswith words like fire, and waters, I’ll think
and in thinking there’s not a single wasted flowno sobs or sighs gone down a sink, no sour voice or bitter note
No lost language or single faded word;our words shall be a spell to soar with the birdsTo reverberate and surgeto writhe, grow, live and purge
and when the binding begins to smell of sweetsit’ll have no place upon the shelves, 
let its pages flutter amongst the crowded streets
and remind us of ourselves
Crack open young minds, and knock on the doors of the old
remind all souls of the warmth of humansto not run and lock themselves awayto revere the written and spoken, remember it is no sin to sway
cults and poli have sworn in faith and lies, 
The hidden and choke-n have no tongues to tieno sparks of wisdom, only to consume and die
Words are to be shared, just as we share the air and waterthe greatest gift aside from love, are the gifts that are for all
we are meant to be one tribe, with stories and hearts, such a people could never fall
So, I ask you, what will you give to the world?Know what you have to say, and that you have worthdon’t waste this beautiful blue ball we call:
EARTH

I’ll take this pen and pierce my veins
I’ll dip the nib into my ink

I’ll tear apart the martyrs and saints
with words like fire, and waters, I’ll think

and in thinking there’s not a single wasted flow
no sobs or sighs gone down a sink, no sour voice or bitter note

No lost language or single faded word;
our words shall be a spell to soar with the birds

To reverberate and surge
to writhe, grow, live and purge

and when the binding begins to smell of sweets
it’ll have no place upon the shelves, 

let its pages flutter amongst the crowded streets

and remind us of ourselves

Crack open young minds, and knock on the doors of the old

remind all souls of the warmth of humans
to not run and lock themselves away
to revere the written and spoken, remember it is no sin to sway

cults and poli have sworn in faith and lies, 

The hidden and choke-n have no tongues to tie
no sparks of wisdom, only to consume and die

Words are to be shared, just as we share the air and water
the greatest gift aside from love, are the gifts that are for all

we are meant to be one tribe, with stories and hearts, 
such a people could never fall

So, I ask you, what will you give to the world?
Know what you have to say, and that you have worth
don’t waste this beautiful blue ball we call:

EARTH

(Source: weheartit.com, via feellng)

asylum-art:

Hyper Realistic Pencil Drawings byJono Dry

on deviantART

South African artist Jono Dry creates awesome large-scale pencil drawings, many of which are a beautiful blend of photorealistic style and surrealistic subject matter. A completely self-taught and very meticulous artist, Jono sometimes spends months on a single piece in order to achieve such an astonishing level of detail.

(via asylum-art)

— Joseph Campbell, The Power of Myth (pg. 174)

(Source: son-of-the-hell, via s-omniphobic)

(via s-omniphobic)

johnkhuc:

#canarywharf (at Canary Wharf)

johnkhuc:

#canarywharf (at Canary Wharf)

— Soraya Chemaly, School Dress Codes: The Funny-Not-Funny Video You Have to See (via killeveryoneespeciallyhippies)

(Source: m.huffpost.com, via restlessreverberation)