Category Archives: Poetry

Winning the dolarttry

Lottery: win a lot of money

DIY: do it yourself

Moneytree: doesn’t exist

Wishtree: tree with handwritten notes of well wishing tied to it with colorful yarn.

Oh I’m sorry.  Have you already won?  You already hold your winning ticket? 🙂

abstract found objects

winning the lottery
diy lottery
winning the dollertry
This is a day by day guide to help you EVEN BEGIN to think about actually winning the lottery.  I’m talking about the mega-million-bazillions here.
Day#1:  BOOM Bitches! Yeah!
You won.  Holy-Shit-Moment, yada-yada-yada.  Write down the exact amount you won.
EZPZ right?
Well.  Think about it and be realistic.
Seriously do this.  I know you have a pen and paper nearby.  This is going to be worth it, trust me.  What do you have to lose?  (only a true fortune, comfort, happiness, wealth, legacy, etcetera)
Done early?  It’s ok move on to the next day ahead of time if you are ready to advance. Hurry up!!!
Day#2: Shit gets real.
Before everyone you have ever known finds out you won, you must figure out what-the-muther-fucking-hell are you supposed to do with all that money.  Collect over the course of all those years?  Or you take the money all upfront with the penalty?  What will you invest into?  What are your ideal dream life scenarios, where are your homes and what do you do?  How much will you give to charity?  How much to your Mother/Father/etc?  How much to your closest friends?  How will you spend your time once you’ve sobered up and gotten bored?   Write it all down below the amount.
Day#4:  It will have taken this long to have figured it out and to have perfected your exact plan.  If you have written down, in real life, exactly what you would do, then you are serious about this and possess the will to succeed and achieve your dreams.  Now with your original list at home and a copy with you, you go to cash in your ticket.  Your plan goes to shit because as soon as you redeem your ticket in the store, you are shot by the clerk as you hand over the ticket.  You never saw the gun, it looked exactly like a camera.
Day#37:  you wake up.
All of your family is dead.
After the news story on Fox5, your place was filled with all your friends and family having a get together when the news helicopter backed into a cellphone tower and landed on your front lawn, sliding into your living room and exploding.
Day#42: you leave the hospital.
You find a place and immediately eat a hamburger.
You go to the bathroom and immediately throw up.
There is a lottery ticket behind the toilet and you can tell some dumbass dropped a winning ticket.  You wretch again and again.  You wash up and walk straight-the-fuck out.
Day#42.5: you find a pencil with an eraser and some fresh paper.
You write down your ideas for a business.  Exactly how you’ll earn cash on day number forty-three.  Exactly what supplies you’ll need.  The exact location.  How much food and water you will need, and transportation.  Everything can be written down.  Anything can be written down and sketched out.
Day#43: you liquidate everything you needed to (including the winning ticket from behind the toilet that you put into a ziplock baggie because you never pass up a little help even if it is from your enemies. fuck them, take their shit.)  And you get the sum you need to buy your business’s name and for your own two feet to hit the pavement.
You make your money, not as much as you hoped.  But you have the peoples contact info and a few other people that traded info.
Day#365:  One year will have past from the time you read about day one.
You will own your own business.  You will have a ton of new friends and fellow business-compatriots.  Enough to bounce ideas off of and start new collaborations, as well as continue earning money doing your day job which is your own business which your new friends and customers are helping you to carry on with.
Day #366:  You notice that actually all your family and friends are not dead and that you never won the original sum you wrote down.  But you find that only certain friends and family members are really worth spending time with and all the rest you have kindly ignored.  You see the value in always being polite, to kill them with kindness.  You see how doing so can reveal their true intentions.  You can see how some of them still struggle and pay hard earned money for a rigged game they do not fully understand.
We all have the dream.  We don’t all have a custom plan, that’s been revised counted less times and is still not perfect even now at day number, today’s date.
On what day will you realize you don’t need all your copies of your business model and you hand it to a homeless person on the same street you started out on…
On what day will you realize you don’t need to seek money, that instead money finds you because you do what you love doing so well because you’ve done it long enough to become a master.  A student and a master, practicing all the various things there are to do and love.
-Mark Weathers 2014-07-31-23:17

another day fights the dusk

rain drain graphite definite - 7/26/14
rain drain graphite definite – 7/26/14

The room grows dark,

dreamy light drains away and the impending tone is set.

In stone they write stories

in graves they write wars, gods fall to temper blades

history is splashed with more tears, marring the old words.

Lightning strikes as blind eyes in the sky’s scrapers

look down on the canopy tops at the receding hair line

sign the red dotted line, no cutting back

forever forsaken forgotten intricacies

lost jungles, darkness creeps

in broad daylight, with hidden eyes

plotting, afraid, desperate, alive

with mythic fangs, leaves remains

waiting for the chance

it will perish but it knows

it never ends.

-mw7-24-

iamthoswhobelieve 2014 crosses within crosses, two halves a whole
iamthoswhobelieve 2014
crosses within crosses, two halves a whole

 

Neon and Broken: Revealing the Hidden Beauty of the Wayside

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In an effort to point out the beauty of the mundane and broken, I’ve combined a lovely blurb about hidden secrets and broken charms with this digital photograph of a shattered, discarded golf ball on a wet asphalt.

“The human heart has hidden treasures, In secret kept, in silence sealed; The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures, Whose charms were broken if revealed.” – Charlotte Brontë

Neon Green Broken Golf Ball of Secret Beauty
Neon Green Broken Golf Ball of Secret Beauty by somethinghumble
Support the arts, $1.00 for each photocard at Zazzle

 

Amazingly Labyrinthian Existentialism

header image Mt Vernon Rd Labyrinth brick path with yellow flowers and green grass

As I continue to pace along this brick path I come to the center and ponder with depth the situation at hand. Before any of us knew it, we were all thrust into what appears to be some kind of generational loop of dynamically and intricately woven connections between individual instances of living manifestations of matter, some of which seems self-aware.  Here we all are journeying further and farther down our paths which were in part laid down by all who came before.  Careening through space on this boat named Earth we get to spin round and circle the Sun as is flows around and around with the rest of the Milky Way.  When you look up to the heavens a very different, very vast, and very long term perspective comes into view.  Dealings back here on ground level seem mundane and trivial in a galactic scale, but in the labyrinth of our lives we know there to be great passion, love and meaning.  There is great danger we must ward away, a bull headed monster roams this hedge maze.  He is greed, hunger, violence, brutality, injustice and lives within each of us. He is not to be forgotten, but is easily kept at bay by our good will and charity.

“I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.” – Frank Herbert, Dune

“Knowing others is wisdom, knowing yourself is Enlightenment.”  – Lao Tzu

“Regardless of the staggering dimensions of the world about us, the density of our ignorance, the risks of catastrophes to come, and our individual weakness within the immense collectivity, the fact remains that we are absolutely free today if we choose to will our existence in its finiteness, a finiteness which is open on the infinite. And in fact, any man who has known real loves, real revolts, real desires, and real will knows quite well that he has no need of any outside guarantee to be sure of his goals; their certitude comes from his own drive.”
― Simone de Beauvoir, The Ethics of Ambiguity

“He was free, free in every way, free to behave like a fool or a machine, free to accept, free to refuse, free to equivocate; to marry, to give up the game, to drag this death weight about with him for years to come. He could do what he liked, no one had the right to advise him, there would be for him no Good or Evil unless he thought them into being.”
― Jean-Paul Sartre

Gallery of collected labyrinthian imagery, please add your own in the comments below! 😀

Soft phantom lights glowing in the cold, dark night

Today I designed a moody cosmetics bag over at Zazzle. I’m not sure if anyone will ever buy the thing and make the design come into actual existence as a product, but even if that never happens it is still really cool to see my artsy photographs come to life on a random little bag. I’m looking forward to doing a whole bunch more of these babies so stay tuned!

 

The soft glowing ebbs flowingly
through the cold, dark night
rivers flow, the moon shines
light dances and fades knowingly
shapeshifting to our delight.

-Mark Weathers, January 4th 2014

And here we all are…

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And here we all are.  So insignificantly small when we look at the clear night sky, the winking stars so plentiful so far away and so long ago are telling us an important story.  A lesson about who we are, who we will be, how much time there is reminds us of how we fit in.  It’s all over in less than the blink of an eye.  The lifespan of a gnat, the life’s work of an ant, a flickering flame sending an ember on an upward journey.  Gone forever, unforgettable and with illusions of grandeur we rise and fall.  From the deepest depths we crash and roll, breaking with the tides, endless, for all eternity.  The hypnotic dull roar muted by clear glass doors, lulling us back to sleep.  Lost in dreams.  Alone with the hum of the fridge, the ticking of the clock as seconds pass forever, out the cold night’s breeze.  Men strong and desperate work for squanderings on pitching decks under false lights that hide the heavens.  And the fish die, giving themselves, ending their lives, as is their place, under the stars.

1.11.2013 – Mark Weathers

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