fakenews: CHICKEN FRIED & CERTIFIED just a little 'Fake News...

fakenews: CHICKEN FRIED & CERTIFIED just a little 'Fake News...: let me tell you about the 'Country' MY  BARE COUNTRY FEET know the coolness of the fresh turned Earth behind a mule i...

'Plato's last stand' Mixed media 2013

BOOKS NOW AVAILABLE ON amazon.com FOLLOW THESE LINKS & THANK YOU!          

Inksanity by Helen Bird Art
The Way called Beautiful by Helen Bird

PS...these make AWESOME GIFTS :)

“Only the dead have seen the end of war.” 
― Plato

solar flair

'Solar Flair' Ink 2017

BOOKS NOW AVAILABLE ON amazon.com FOLLOW THESE LINKS & THANK YOU!          

Inksanity by Helen Bird Art
The Way called Beautiful by Helen Bird

PS...these make AWESOME GIFTS :)

“If you ask me what I came to do in this world, I, an artist, will answer you: I am here to live out loud.”

― Émile Zola

fakenews: GHOSTS IN A MEAT SUIT

fakenews: GHOSTS IN A MEAT SUIT: excuse me..EXCUSE ME!...a quick word people...ok, just a few things . . . WE ARE ALL ETERNAL SOULS...inside a meat suit...riding an ...

Rise of Atlantis

ink drawings by Helen Bird 2016

“First we thought the PC was a calculator. Then we found out how to turn numbers into letters with ASCII — and we thought it was a typewriter. Then we discovered graphics, and we thought it was a television. With the World Wide Web, we've realized it's a brochure.”

Douglas Adams

BOOKS NOW AVAILABLE ON amazon.com FOLLOW THESE LINKS & THANK YOU!          

Inksanity by Helen Bird Art
The Way called Beautiful by Helen Bird

PS...these make AWESOME GIFTS :)

fakenews: TRUE GHOST STORYI GREW UP with straight up aut...

fakenews: TRUE GHOST STORY



I GREW UP with straight up aut...: TRUE GHOST STORY I GREW UP with straight up authentic voodoo enchanted haunted ghost story graveyard campouts by railroad tracks with...

Postcards from The Edge

"All this world is heavy with the promise of greater things, and a day will come, one day in the unending succession of days, when beings who are now latent in our thoughts and hidden in our loins shall stand upon this earth as one stands upon a footstool and shall laugh and reach out their hands amidst the stars." H.G. Wells

BOOKS NOW AVAILABLE ON amazon.com           

Inksanity by Helen Bird Art
The Way called Beautiful by Helen Bird

Into The Abyss

"Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you." ― Friedrich Nietzsche
Inksanity piece from 2017 #helenbirdart get your copy now @ inksanity by Helen Bird art

INKSANITY

I JUST PUBLISHED MY SECOND BOOK...A COLLECTION OF INK DRAWINGS & QUOTES (FROM MY FAVORITE AUTHORS) 

FOLLOW THIS LINK.....

INKSANITY by Helen Bird Art

Here's a sneak peek...This piece is called 'KIng of Zing' and was inked in 2013

“Every morning I jump out of bed and step on a landmine. The landmine is me. After the explosion, I spend the rest of the day putting the pieces together.”

― Ray Bradbury, Zen in the Art of Writing

Invisibility

Amy told me,

"My Dad' bought me a bright lime green tee shirt one Christmas and when he gave it to me he said, 'Here...now go on, get yerself noticed!'" Her voice trailed off. Having spent six months, as a teenager, comatose, ventilated and tube fed through her stomach after a car accident and subsequent head injury, the rest of Amy's life was anything but un-noticable.

She became a heavy user of methamphetamine and her addiction, combined with the chronic depression and learning difficulties since the wreck contributed to the loss of her son in to foster care.

She had suffered terribly at the hands of an abusive ex-husband or boyfriend and what was left of her family, they really didn't care anymore. So, she drifted from city to city, travelling and existing by the seat of her only pair of pants. By no means slow or stupid, I found Amy to be very quick witted, curious and definitely street smart. Hitchhiking and hustling from place to place, she'd learned to trust no one.

Her voice was permanently hoarse from being trached and she readily showed me the scars on her belly. "See..." She continued, "When you're homeless you try real hard to not get noticed. People look right through ya anyway. they just don't wanna see you..."

My experience on the street was much different to Amy's but we shared the same feelings of isolation and vulnerability. Street life. It's beyond an edgy, space-time continuum thats all screwed up. A glorious absence of monotony. And immeasurable pain.

It's a two way street because you want people to see you, so that they can help you and understand how life can just beat you down so hard, that it can so easily happen to anyone.

But, mostly you don't want to be noticed at all. As if there could be a parallel dimension to slip un-noticed in to and avoid having to have contact with the rest of society ever again. Ashamed that your clothes are soiled. They smell and have been slept in. Embarassed that you haven't shaved or seen a dentist in a while. Quite a while.

You've bathed randomly at gas stations and truck stops, making do with what you can in the rest rooms. A backpack is a dead give-away and there's no way around it. You just need to carry your stuff, somehow, someway without looking like a turtle hauling his house full of junk and scrap metal.

We turn in to shells of our former selves. You keep your unwashed hair tied back and under a hat, making it easy to look down. Eye's to the ground.

I read somewhere that 'a home is a place where you are supposed to be able to leave the outside world behind.'

Imagine that. Now all of a sudden the outside is your home and all that you do is visible to the public.

Now, all of a sudden certain groups of people DO notice and recognize you, for example ‎the police and the criminal justice system. A cop told me one day, "To get outta here! I don't wanna ever see your face again!" I was on the way to the library. It readily felt like the local sheriff was running me out of town as soon as I got there.

So, what do you do? Hide in plain site and try to blend in. You learn fast, from other homeless, travellers, drifters and local eccentrics. Random samples of the roughly handled. They tell you where to not go, where the cops love to harass. "Don't cha ever cut across a parking lot downtown, they'll arrest ya for trespassing."

Invisibility becomes a way of life...physically, psychologically and socially.

An old friend will call you up and ask, "What's up? How ya doin'? Wanna do lunch this week?". I glance down at my nails, all dirty and uneven from painting and camping in the woods. "Uh-hum...Oh, I'm great! But...err, I'm pretty busy all week. But soon. OK?"

Helen Bird April 26th 2014

Published in The Contributor May 2014

Hollywood Is Dead

The chandeliers were the first to tremble...

 The audience, weighted down by Harry Winston diamonds & Botox treatments, looked up nervously...

 Initially, blinded by their own vanity, puffed up with self adulation & dosed with perfection for the occasion, they ignored the signs...

 Then the auditorium really started to shake. The very floor beneath their pedicured feet gave way to movie star screams & shear panic...

 No acting required...

 This was the real deal...La la land no more...

  Atmospheric rivers, unheard of ever before, had supremely doused the parched & unstable land...

 Fancy cars & limos swallowed whole by hungry & angry sink holes...

Mother Earth was pissed!!! And the last were to become first & the first, well...we know what became of them...

 Buried ball gowns, designer purses, tuxedos & statues...

 Ahhhh...Oscar schmOscar...

 Your world exists no more...

 A just punishment for such lavish lifestyles, many may say...

 The glaring imbalance of wealth, conspicuous consumption and wasted resources corrected by the great law of the Universe...

 The scales of justice reset by greedy mans' hands...

 A few blocks away, the untouchables cowered in makeshift camps on Skid Row...Praying to a God many thought had long gone...

 But with a faith this strong...so strong in the face of their adversity, the surrounding buildings swayed & fell away...

 The ground held fast under dirty shoeless feet...

 Salvation shone on Skid Row that day...

 And though dust swirled & people huddled closer together, their camps held fast...

 They emerged when the shaking stopped...

 Unharmed yet fragile...

 Shaken but not scared...

 Yes...it was The Big One, alright...

 And it finally came...

written by Helen L Bird March 2017 @Birdhelen #helenbirdart & photography...

In light of the recent Weinstein scandal, I felt this piece somehow as more appropriate today as it was back then, earlier on this year. As the growing disparity between the rich & poor, the have's & have not's grows wider, it seems as though 'their' house of cards is & will come down. Truth & justice WILL prevail...the first will become last & the last will become first. 

Photo: Helen Bird Golden Gate Bridge 2007

fakenews: WHEN I WOKE UP IN HOSPITAL, I COULD'NT move my ...

fakenews:


WHEN I WOKE UP IN HOSPITAL, I COULD'NT move my ...: WHEN I WOKE UP IN HOSPITAL, I COULD'NT move my arms or legs.  Oh, I wasn't paralyzed or anything . . . I was in four point r...

THE TURTLE

Excerpt from The Way Called Beautiful by Helen Bird 

AVAILABLE NOW ON amazon.com & ebook on kindle

THE TURTLE

"Those elders came from over there where the winds are always warm and cool.

How they got here long, long ago is a mystery to this Chaa-Moaakonnish.

It was a time when all life was Gitchi-Manitou.

And all life lived upon the back of this huge turtle.

At that time, the turtle had lots of room, so Gitchi-Manitou told all his red children

to hurry up and make love on turtle's back and be as many as the beautiful stars in the skies up above.

Turtle asked Gitchi-Manitou if he would but have some rest for a spell.

Turtle fell asleep and every once in a while he moves closest to where the waters lap at his side.

Where the warm winds blow cool breezes upon him and when turtle moves in his sleep, the whole of California quakes.

Someday in a time when this Chaa-Moaakmonish treats turtle too harshly, the

turtle will move to a different place.

We, the red man, call this our turtle island for that reason.

We are as fleas on a dog's tail and like fleas, we can fall off for good.

So I move through this life like turtle, slow and careful and when the time comes for Gitchi-Manitou to talk with me, I will only say,

"My beloved Creator, You own everything all over."

And I will ask,

"How did the turtle finally move?"

The answer is easy.

Always treat turtle with respect, like you treat yourself...

Do not be greedy, lustful, hunger for too much.

Just be in a patient way with yourself.

Soon enough there will be that time when you will have many questions to answer.

A time to be strong and do not always look at the other person, for he will not be there to blame you or you to blame him.

So be good to him in this life.

Some of us understand this way, and

“We know why."

                                                 

                                                      'Full Of Life'

                                            ink drawing by Helen Bird 2017