Sleeping Prophet (Edgar Cayce)

Sleeping Prophet (Edgar Cayce)

Sterling Hundley created this spiffy piece of art. Very morbid with a twist of relief, that’s the vibe it gave after staring at it for a while. I enjoy the shades of blues he used and the shadow of the couch against the wall gives it some sort of Grim Reaper effect. It’s a great piece of art to look at while listening to The Smiths. Give it a try.


Two Poems From Jonathan Bauer


How can you go about your day,
When I’m shouting out in misery?
All you have is fairy tales,
And all I have is me.
My valentine’s coming,
And when they find me,
My fingernails will cut the sails,
And stop this sorrow ship.These lights make passion in the storms.
I can’t stay in the forest anymore.
Ribbons float above the fading sky.
Sinister, oh please be mine.
This zombie’s coming,
And when he finds me.
My glitter sinner lullaby
Will remain a treasure.

Vanishing Act

Losing our way, evident of what I felt.
The congruence of love and hate. Rumors.
The whitest sympathy in the blackest scrutiny.
Blackest malice, we can find happiness.I’m not yours, and you not mine.
You claim to take me to the sky,
Like Aladdin you say, but with nothing to hold.
I grasped the first piece of fabric from your shirt.
Flying is a lie, the night only carrying fear.
I blew the candles out when we landed.
No love, just choking. Dying, my love.Sugar skulls, death on the mind.
The face of perfection, tainted by my hand.
Time being started and not finished.
Incomplete thoughts, ruined by neglect.
These ranges trapping us runaways, alone and afraid.
Hold me closer, and we can feel again.
Do you care? Am I just guts in my words?
Meaningless, or worse: a stain. Disdain for myself.
I finally admit defeat, and the audience applauds.
I pull the trigger, and they rise to their feet.


“I’m Jonathan, I’m a Monster, I’m a blogger, I cuss like a sailor, I talk really fast, and I find myself in many awkward social situations that are ‘way beyond my maturity level’ (first Juno reference). Essentially, all you need to know is I am art, I am writing, I am music, and my work is fantastic. VALIDATE ME.”


Sal Dali, my favorite artist & everyone’s favorite weirdo. He had an intense fear of grasshoppers and showing his feet. Sal was über surr3al. My favorite piece from him would be Meditative Rose (Rosa Meditativa) of 1958. This piece is just so simple yet it expresses tons of emotion and most of his other artwork has so much going on that you forget the beauty.
~Sal Dali is my vato~             -SAm


A Reptile Dysfunction

So, welcome to the MARKS literary journal where we begin every blog post with so. So, we consist of Melissa, Ana, Ryan, Kym, and Sam. We all have unique personalities so don’t expect everything to be as clean as cornbread on this here blog. Here you’ll find a multitude of knick-knacks, paddy-whacks, and dog-bones. You’ll find poetry, stories, sweaters, cannibals, Scottish fold cats, chicken noodle soup, tiger-skin rugs, essays, garlic bread (you need to have garlic bread), fond childhood memories, Clint Eastood’s frown, art, Five Guys’ fries, catacombs, combs, Honey Combs, Chocolate Lucky Charms (. . . sometimes), Frida Kahlo’s eyebrow, puke, reviews, powdery straws, old Christmas Lists, John Hughes, Wes Anderson, your mom’s high school picture, opinions, twirly moustaches (otherwise known as knobs), Spanish muffin-tops, problems, movies, thrift store shopping lists, rants, submissions, and possibly where the wild things are. So enjoy the view. – MARKS