Sonnet: Fooled by the Brush

Some instantly fall

fooled by the brush

obsessed, stoned and drunk

milked of path and home

lost in their treasure

consumed by the search

forever the whirl

once inhaled the curse

awash in the eye

believing no worse

that they see the end

to bloom with purpose

steady, life is your turn


- sean russell, or sean thomas, drawing by E.E. Cummings

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Sonnet: Vroom, Vroom

Originally posted on i type freehand:

Sag goes thy car’s physic, vroom vroom

drag he rough cane road and thistle

hast rider go watchman rustle

clung to the dash in thine missile

who for reconcile deeds per mile

delivered swift down this aisle

heart wrecked a racer doth beguile

His limit, thy rule, with a smile

trust be four wheels last a while

gainst a crescent moon his trial

sentence appears dawn to dial

incantations rouse this idol

shamed thus to task death so vile

sag goes thy car’s physic, vroom vroom

– sean russell, or sean thomas

photo ‘sunset on el rio 3 moons’ by cosmic vagabond,

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People of the Sea

August 12th, the sky was clear, as it normally is in this area

except it was noticeable that there were no birds

where they assembled naturally at the Beretenia bush

and the crested pine footing the beach

instead life was scattered and congressed

at the furry steeple coated seldom by the tide

where cardinals are bouncing through the wet sand

and chirping up others jutting out of piles of twig behind me

sticking to the fresh brine that kept the sea flyers busy on foot

it flooded the night before and there was a flow of dirty marsh

the shear swooped down on the stream leading to the beach

and perched on a “Shark Sighted” post appearing like a watchtower

peering into the stagnant tide

now owned by a single bobby who stooped and preyed

at will where the river met the feeding post

forming up a delta about the reflective breach

as egret lined its edges stumbling from its bank

picking off the hoard of cockroach

wing soaked by a murky churn

to be swallowed by mouths saturated with foam

and as I had been writing

and drinking my rum after a swim

more people of the sea came out

watching the clothed bodies taking pictures

beside the warning sign

when one of us looking quite fine began to pray

and fearing the moment, the clothed bodies put their cameras away

but looked back to hear her voice

praying to God, her “ancestor be safe

and that they may not be lost,”

as she wished this tiger shark “go away

that none must hail to them this

or any another day.”

And left her cleansed gift after receiving her blessing

a sighting God had split

from the vision celibate of sight

a break in the surf

a massively bright shark heading north


- sean russell, aka sean thomas, painting “sharkangel” by Hawk Alfredson



Family small

Attributing the Varieties of Human Suffering…

Freedom is anxiety inducing…most humans prefer a ‘catchism,’ a system resembling bureaucracy, to rule their experience rather than face the anguish of ambiguity.

It is preferred because such a system is specific in designation of a clear path to making it easiest for one to understand their value and requires less thinking to conduct their position on forming oneself’s progress if they feel they have earned their share, value, worth, or payed for it.  Reward becomes then readily involved in ones life; catchism provides this – a precise method of self integration into self acceptance, which has its own social rewards.  However unsatisfied, catchism is greatly rewarded in this process, as an individual surrenders both their intrinsic value, their time and body, which makes possible the concept of worth – creating a double devotion that upon resolving so releases ones value to the result of value being required to be redesigned so to be recognizable and handled – as it is no longer a person.

(One would absolutely love to believe they’d enjoy sitting and doing nothing or thinking they’d have the ability to rise and do exactly what it is they’d want to do, unfortunately, that would not be possible when everybody is free. There are others in this world. Their freedom will affect yours, either gracefully or gravely. However, catchism allows you to never discover this phenomena while still allowing your freedom to be afflicted, both by people as well as institutions, and may even require you contribute your life and body for it.)

To both detract the ‘detractable’ from learning their history and to second the hypothetical into fact, lending our historical existence depravity, that it was bad and that we would actually be “doomed to repeat it,” when what is most concrete, literally as evidenced, supports the bleakness of our past is set in modern-history. Basing major socioeconomic institutions on theories, presenting these theories in education, purporting their debasement, initiating them as fact or as has-been-established, even while these theories are, knowingly, consistently proven to be outdated, unfounded and fruitless is the culprit to a then truly poor history.  As many theories have and will lead to naturally reoccurring truths, most leave a hole into which human curiosity is vacuumed dedicatedly distracted onto losing centuries in misguidance and otherwise productive thought.

Attributing the varieties of human suffering to sin, social inequality or poor karma, that one is born of detriment, should seek quality of health, and one’s improvement can be acquired – controls sufficiency and alienates value from one’s physicality, separating the value of the individual body which is the ultimate worth at the core of monetary progression, causal to economic dynamism – may spare one the pain of empathy and the incredible responsibility of changing one’s environment.


catchism – a process or series of steps in an endeavor designed to achieve order.  To achieve an endeavor wherein, a party is indoctrinated away from their rights then pre-obligated into a method of payment.

(Payment can include achieving an endeavor first for an institution while away, sold or devoted, from their rights, submitting a fee, or surrendering confidential information to an institution.)  

*After a method of payment has been submitted, the party cannot recollect, nor retract their submission of rights regardless if their initiate endeavor has been achieved.


- sean russell, aka sean thomas, art by the same

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She is…

Originally posted on i type freehand:

She is,

Radiating a force the infinite hand cannot measure,

Nor the fate of love anticipate beyond a dream.

Yet this simple heart falls for her deep and distant universe

And goes adventuring for her small charms,

Guiding his ship through a mysterious romance,

Imagining, with certain bravery, in an upward gaze,

How the black chasm and the beat of the shark skin drum are played.

Would she laugh if I told her all about her galaxy?

And with all the absurdities in his heart

He gravitates toward her magnitude, this starry-eyed Crusoe,

Carefully charting the map to her heart.

– sean thomas

featured image from the “Godspeed” collection by Casey Diebold,, and

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It’s No Mistake (Meditation IV)

It’s no mistake to observe

a woman, a man, a stranger or an unfamiliar tone

let the ear and eye roam

or to think about the earthly curve

it’s serene to be

think from the back of the head at the center of the mind

like tides follow a pattern

gravity enforces shape

you can put nothingness into your pocket

sometimes time is nothingness

where is it

can there be a time time is truthful

toward shape or pattern and form

yes, time of day, but day forms without it according dictation of shape and cycles of patterns – bringing it colorings of particles


toward love perhaps

if time said love has a beginning and an end

and has limits, can I only understand this in the bonds of human paradox


perhaps love will forever elapse, never to start, never to cease

I’m surprised by the notion

by old farts  and ancient books about talismans, circles and potions

by the freedom of particles and devotional chemicals

how ritual and arcane were once practical

and daily we thought of intrigue, how to invoke the unseen, how to quench physiology

with either toil, word, or food

romanticizing mystery and the necessity of charm

for some find deathliness and horror wonderful and comforting

and others delight at softness and come alive in the subtleties of light moments

in every presence I see myself in it

am I being truthful enough to pause time

If I no longer love, or if I no longer think on time

Am I simply changing shape, following a pattern

would the labels old and aging apply if I knew neither concept: time and age

what is the gauge of other things having to do with me changing

if things are constantly moving, me, my thoughts, environment, a particle mess

whose in control of what, is time then a label

when I rarely feel separate from forgetfullness and memory

Lately, I feel like I float between feedback and resonance

I often force out of my vision the bottom left digital line of a ‘six’ to make it a ‘five’

when looking at the time on my cable box

how far we’ve come to sit at home and write nonsense

as was done thousands of centuries ago

I forget that I’m doing it and my forgetfullness begets itself forgetting

And I’ve gained a minute without remembering why

when I see that line go away

I now try to never assume that it’s foul or even if it’s fair

I simply observe it

but I always must step forward into the existence of my intuition

which requires no labels, I will not name them because it will be misinterpreted

I’ve enjoyed the misinterpretations enough to allow them to be ruined

but not these two, not here, not like this, that would be mad like the air that passes through me

but I repeatedly find that intuition is institutionalized like a baby crying when it’s slapped on the ass right out of the womb

Maybe others the same root

the inherent, or heir to the universe incline we are, in honor in task when lifting a helping hand, and enlisting one, or giving away my calorie to the blundering surrender of what’s innate

that’s my current plane of existence

my memory seems to serve me best if I don’t ask it

and then I forget why I need to know why I’m here

it’s no mistake that I’ve wondered why as many others must do

it’s no mistake to observe


- sean russell, aka sean thomas, graphic cut from P.M. Roussards ‘Conquistador’ painting


Home Sweeter Home

Unto the Gloom

Here I am again,

As sad a place I’ve been before

So long to my home

Only a few miles gone

Now growing forever long from you

Who from I should not be

Further I will though

Soon where I alone look beyond

Already in battle with the urge of wishing

You will need me there

Against the wind of judgement I am

Set to wonder, it is painful to not question

Is it empty in your room?

Can you feel my being gone?

And can you feel to be without, so

Not long I’ll leave you love,

Be where my prayers lay to rest

At home, there to help you dream

And go to see you sleep

In hope this goodbye goes

This night in peace, for future may keep

Yourself where I can believe

The image on a distant bed

Under the same moon of course

Unto the gloom

There is no remorse.


- Sean Russell, aka Sean Thomas, art by the same