Tampilkan postingan dengan label angel. Tampilkan semua postingan
Tampilkan postingan dengan label angel. Tampilkan semua postingan

Selasa, 04 Agustus 2015

Tom's Guardian Angel (at the NYC Tattoo Convention)

Yesterday we posted work on Stacy, who I met at the NYC Tattoo Convention in June. She shared work from both Rose Hardy and Justin Weatherholtz from Kings Avenue Tattoo. She was accompanied by Tom, who also had this work by Justin:


Tom, when asked about the tattoo, just referred to her as his guardian angel.

Thanks to Tom for sharing this stunning tattoo with us here on Tattoosday!

This entry is ©2015 Tattoosday.


If you are seeing this on another website other than Tattoosday, without attribution, please note that it has been copied without the author's permission and is in violation of copyright laws. Please feel free to visit http://tattoosday.blogspot.com and read our original content. Please let me know if you saw this elsewhere so I contact the webmaster of the offending site and advise them of this violation in their Terms of Use Agreement.

Minggu, 19 April 2015

The Tattooed Poets Project: David Krilivsky

Our next tattooed poet is David Krilivsky. David sent us a wide array of his tattoos:









David tells us:
"Almost all of my tattoos are religious in nature. I was raised in a family which is Catholic on both sides all the way down the line. It was part of my daily life: Catholic school, Sunday mass, etc. While I no longer practice my faith, it was the stories, and particularly the images, that have stayed with me and become part of my fabric, and, over the years, part of my body. Whether it's my sleeve devoted to the death of Christ or the portrait of St. Sebastian, my tattoos represent a belief I no longer subscribe to but secretly hope is true. They are monuments to the haunting images of my youth. Monuments to the haunting images still playing on a loop in my mind in my adulthood. I cannot separate my self from that which shaped me, and from my choices in tattoos it's evident I don't want to even if I could."
He credited all of his work displayed here to Josh Jones from Good Ink Tattoo in Waterbury, Vermont.

David tells us that the poem he sent us, My Inventory is a Wilderness, takes its title from a letter written by Larry Eigner and was first published at Weird Deer. He invites you yo listen to the audio recording here


My Inventory is a Wilderness

I have taken stock.

I am not a river.

Not even stones
in a river are my bones,

not smoothed by current
or skipped by teenagers

ditching school to smoke weed
in the woods out of an empty soda can.

I shake rusted fishhooks from my hair,
tie line around my wrists until they bleed.

My thoughts are a character in a Bergman film
riding a horse along a jagged path,

no, lying in my brother’s arms
on the bottom of an abandoned boat.

My eyes.

My tongue is a tree.

My words are fallen twigs
that snap under the weight of your boot.

My love is a plane somewhere on the side of a mountain.

My guilt is a sonata by Scriabin
listened to on headphones as the plane went down.

I smash my teeth with a rock to relieve the pain.

I write letters addressed to no one pleading for forgiveness,
then burn them in a pile of leaves.

My hands are ash.

My limbs smolder.

When I try to sleep, ghosts lean against my lids,
blow rings from phantom cigarettes.

I tell them to leave, but don't mean it.

~ ~ ~

David Krilivsky holds an MFA in Poetry from Queens University of Charlotte. His work can be found at Weird Deer, Poets & Artists, Found Poetry Review, Uut Poetry, and elsewhere. He lives in Burlington, Vermont.

Thanks to David for contributing to the Tattooed Poets Project on Tattoosday!

This entry is ©2015 Tattoosday. The poem and tattoos are reprinted with the poet's permission.


If you are reading this on another web site other than Tattoosday, without attribution, please note that it has been copied without the author's permission and is in violation of copyright laws. Please feel free to visit http://tattoosday.blogspot.com and read our original content. Please let me know if you saw this elsewhere so I contact the webmaster of the offending site and advise them of this violation in their Terms of Use Agreement.

Minggu, 12 April 2015

Vincent Francone's Angel and Devil Tattoos (The Tattooed Poets Project)

Our next tattooed poet is Vincent Francone. Vincent has two amazing tattoos on his upper arms:



Vincent explains:
"I got the angel tattoo first. It was meant to be a caricature of my (then) girlfriend (now my wife). A year later, I decided to get a demonic version. I was looking to create a theme-- the angel on one shoulder, the devil on the other. That sums up my life-- always fighting to decide what to do with two distinct voices in each ear pulling me in opposite directions. The shop for both was Deluxe Tattoo in Chicago. The artist was Tim Biedron."
Incidentally, work by Tim Biedron has appeared previously on Tattoosday here.

Vincent sent us the following poem:

A True Account of Talking to the Sun in Chicago

The sun wouldn’t take my call
at first, so I insisted,
sent a friend request,
bombarded him with emails
until finally, out of frustration,
he relented.

“Francone, what is it?
What’s so goddamn important
you have bug me
while I’m working,
which, in case you didn’t realize,
is always?”

“Well…” I had nothing
to ask, I just wanted
to be in contact,
but the sun insisted:
“Let me guess,
you’re hoping to be

the next Mayakovsky
or O’Hara
the first two poets I spoke to
but—sorry to be
the bearer of bad news—
lots of minor poets

have invoked me in
their minor poems
and pretended to speak with me
so I no longer have much
to say to poets
minor or major.”

I was dejected,
as you can imagine,
but pressed regardless
like a stubborn dog:
“Couldn’t you
advise me anyway?”

“Sure,” he said:
“go and get your MFA.
It might be folly,
and a lot of cash
it’ll cost but it’s worthwhile
if you’re into writing balderdash.”

“I’ve tried,” I lied,
“but it was a drag,
more times than not
I wrote what my
professors wanted,
which was a lot of rot.”

“I’ve seen it,
your grad school verse,
and I’ve seen your others;
you could do a lot worse
than write what your
professors want.

But you could probably
do better, but
who cares?
Poems won’t change
either of us. 
And there’s so damned many!

Who can read them all?
I used to keep up
but I’m tired—
too much being written, I’m
overwhelmed. Francone,
why add to the deluge?”

“Because,” I said,
“where else
but in a poem
would I get to use
the word deluge?”
He rolled his eyes,

said: “That’s the trouble
right there: when
in everyday conversation
would you use deluge?
Never—so why put it
in a poem?

To make your poem seem
like a poem?
That’s the cheapest
poet’s trick.
It only further
alienates the audience,

which is a small lot
to start with.
Better stick to straight
talk, nothing so
polysyllabic 
and no tortured symbols!

Keep it direct,
keep it pure,
just say what you feel
and try to feel something
other than self-pity,
dull as all get out—

don’t bore the poor world
with your self-doubt.”
I had no retort— no more
to state, having indeed
done as the sun said
not to do too often,

written bad poems
riddled with ennui
that I had no right
to have pretended to feel;
I wrote them because
that’s what I thought

a poet did—that’s
what I was taught.
“Hogwash,” said the sun,
reading my thoughts.
“Of course I read your
thoughts—a good bit better

than your poems.
Anyway, if that’s what
they taught you,
then you’d best forget
all you learned
in graduate school.”

“How can I? The bill
comes each month.”
“Well,” said the sun,
having the last word
as he always will
“looks like you’re the fool.”

~ ~ ~

Vincent Francone is a writer living in Chicago whose work has appeared in Spectrum, Rhino, New City, The Oklahoma Review and other journals. He won 1st prize in the 2009 Illinois Emerging Writers Competition and is polishing a book for publication. Read his blog at www.zombiedante.blogspot.com and look at his collection of smug writer poses at www.faceandhands.blogspot.com

Thanks to Vincent for his contribution to the tattooed Poets Project on Tattoosday!

This entry is ©2015 Tattoosday. The poem and tattoos are reprinted with the poet's permission.

If you are reading this on another web site other than Tattoosday, without attribution, please note that it has been copied without the author's permission and is in violation of copyright laws. Please feel free to visit http://tattoosday.blogspot.com and read our original content. Please let me know if you saw this elsewhere so I contact the webmaster of the offending site and advise them of this violation in their Terms of Use Agreement.

Selasa, 22 April 2014

The Tattooed Poets Project: Paul Scot August

Our next tattooed poet is Paul Scot August, who shared two tattoos with us. On his right shoulder sits an angel:


and on his left shoulder is a demon:


Paul tells us:
"Both designs are taken from the same M.C. Escher print.
 
The print was given to me by someone I was once close to, and the angel was inspired by her, and many years later after that person's true nature and dark side came out, I got the demon from the same print. Interestingly, when I got the first one, tattooing was illegal in Milwaukee County, so I had it done at the artist's apartment on the sly. The demon was done years later in a shop."

Paul sent us this poem, which was originally published in South Dakota Review [Spring 2012]. He adds it, "is not related to the tattoos or the person that inspired them, but seems to fit well with them."

Elegy with Great Black Wings

There was this woman I once loved, and who may have
loved me in return, whose death came to me in a single
paragraph on the sidebar of page seventeen, section three
of the Sunday Tribune, while I was eating my breakfast
a decade after the last time we’d kissed each other
goodbye. By then she had moved out west for work and I
had married someone else and had two kids, and then she
was offered a better job and returned to live in the Midwest,
and I had begun my path leading toward my ensuing divorce.
We never reunited nor spoke.
     There didn’t seem to be a need.
But at one time I thought she would be the one with whom
I woke up next to on gray winter mornings, the falling snow
mixing with the remaining stars, a glittering of the northern
sky that would seem as unreal to us as my then expectations.
We even walked through a small town up north one summer
weekend and looked at homes for sale as if we might buy one.

Now the thought, as unrealistic as our thoughts were back then,
that had we ended up together, had we tried to love one another
even in the face of facts pointing toward obvious conclusions,
that perhaps she would not have been living alone in that city,
and those three men who followed her home that winter night
would not have done to her what they did to her, before crushing
her larynx and leaving with seventeen dollars from her wallet.

So I drove down to northern Illinois to attend her memorial
service, not knowing if I’d be remembered by anyone there,
or if the sight of her closed casket would set off a rush of regret,
or love, or fear, or indifference in the face of grief. And then
the sight of her stooped and broken parents, aged far beyond
my memories of them, and a stunned boyfriend who could not
bear to even enter the room, and bar friends with boozy breath
and red-rimmed eyes telling stories to brace against their own fear
set me running to the parking lot and my car, starting the engine
and driving away, sitting inside the exact opposite of silence,
seeing her face in my mind and trying to remember the sound
of her voice.
But all I could hear on the way back to my home
in Wisconsin was the sound of angels, their great black wings
moving at a frequency just below the surface of all other sound,
their silver voices rising in what she and I would have called
song, but what is to them merely their native tongue, mixed
together with the sound of somebody weeping.

~ ~ ~

Paul Scot August is originally from Chicago but has spent more than half of his life now in Wisconsin. He has an MA in Creative Writing from UW-Milwaukee and is a former poetry editor of The Cream City Review. He has been nominated three times for a Pushcart Prize. His poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Stoneboat, Heron Tree, Connotation-Press, Mead: the Magazine of Literature & Libations, Lindenwood Review, Louisville Review, South Dakota Review, Tygerburning, Midwestern Gothic, Los Angeles Review, Dunes Review, Naugatuck River Review, Passages North and elsewhere. His first book is completed and looking for a publisher.

Thanks to Paul for sharing his poem and tattoos with us here on The Tattooed Poets Project on Tattoosday!

This entry is ©2014 Tattoosday. The poem and tattoos are reprinted with the poet's permission.

If you are reading this on another web site other than Tattoosday, without attribution, please note that it has been copied without the author's permission and is in violation of copyright laws. Please feel free to visit http://tattoosday.blogspot.com and read our original content. Please let me know if you saw this elsewhere so I contact the webmaster of the offending site and advise them of this violation in their Terms of Use Agreement.

Senin, 05 Agustus 2013

Johnny Shares His Angels and Demons

I met Johnny on the Coney Island boardwalk, and he allowed me to take a photo of his back to share with Tattoosday readers:


The top of the back reads "Brooklyn" and the bottom sums it up: Angels & Demons.

Johnny explained:
"It's just the passions of my life. I went through turmoil and came out of it. So, basically, I'm wearing on my skin, my griefs, my sins and my dislikes."
He couldn't be specific about who did what, but he said that the majority of the work was done by Coney Island Vinny and Michael Angelo, two staples of old-school Brooklyn tattooing.

Thanks to Johnny for sharing his back tattoos with us here on Tattoosday!