February 14, 2013 § Leave a comment
When passion turns poison
When love corrodes
when the wounds salted
when hands can’t hold
And gold goes copper
And Cupid gone fallen Icarus
From his own arrow awry
when the illusions stripped
when you know but don’t want to say
when the weeds grip the last rose
when we are foam and dust
and you take your crown off
bow and drown softly in what was
then when we are ready to begin.
January 20, 2013 § Leave a comment
There’s a war goin on inside I can’t hide from it.
its in my stomach.
It’s in her eyes turnt to the size
of two full gold coins full poised pointed anointed
and poisoned and posing all the petals
pulled from the rose and it loves me it loves me not
Then it move its way up to the throat and it climb out and it cries out and it lies not.
And It spies often and it starts with the grave and it ends in a coffin and it spins with the globe and blinks like a strobelight hold tight or let loose it’s neck noosed take a gander at this giant goose egg.
December 13, 2012 § Leave a comment
I’d like to share my latest audio/art endeavor entitled The Alchemist. Alchemy is an old tradition in which it is believed that one substance can be transformed into another. In The Alchemist, I explore the idea that all humans are alchemists, in their amazing ability to transform thought into words and speech, that in turn impact and transform the world(s) on a number of levels— and the great responsibility that comes with it.
(headphones are recommended for listening)
written and performed by Askia Bilal
Produced by Tom Halpin
To see more artwork/hear more poetry visit my website: askianasirbilal.art
October 20, 2012 § 2 Comments
September 8, 2012 § 5 Comments
ink drawing with a touch of color
September 3, 2012 § 3 Comments
learn to listen closely…
to hear the wind
tell the leaves in the trees
pen and ink sketchbook drawing.
cherishing the trees.
feels good to draw again.
August 21, 2012 § Leave a comment
I miss your shimmering guts your gusto.
Miss your bloody beautiful shimmering skull non stop thinking
The madness that haunted you but made you who you were.
Your condition. Your temperament. The crook in your soul you called it.
You the leader of the Argonauts on a hunt for the golden fleece
You fought the one eyed beasts of your mind