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Digital Collage

I employ Adobe Illustrator and Photoshop sometimes in tandem to compose, colorize, create texture and depth in my scenes.  

  • Bloody Carillon
    Bloody Carillon

    A musical instrument consisting of a set of 23 or more bronze bells played by striking a keyboard of batons tuned in chromatic order. The keys are connected to wires or rods that are in turn connected to the bells. when a key is struck, the wire or rod causes the clapper to strike the corresponding bell, producing a musical note.  The largest carillon (counting only the bells) weighs nearly 100 tons, making it one of the heaviest metal instruments and can be heard from miles away. “The carillon chimed from the foreboding church, calling all those wretched sinners to worship.” Marred by malicious servitude, this carillon has mutated from its peaceful and communal context into an instrument of death. When this profane carillon rings it sounds like sirens shrieking and thunder crashing, the music it produces is a tocsin of destruction, an anthem for slaughter

  • Liminal Messaging
    Liminal Messaging

    at the end of September I am reminded of my fondness for autumn when Bittersweet memories of a disillusioned summer and falling leaves flood me with nostalgia. Burning maple leaves, short-circuiting wires incinerating monarch butterflies, and flames dance throughout the scene, evoking danger. Shadowy, overlapping faces invoke emotional tension, creating the illusion of an overextended psyche.

  • Walking on the Corpses of Alien Stars
    Walking on the Corpses of Alien Stars

    Walking on the Corpses of Alien Stars

  • Our time folds
    Our time folds

    when I stop to look at my watch 

    I notice time never does 

    as it continues turning 

    our hands in imperfect circles

    Our time hardly folds

    into perfect corners

     

    time is not a relative

    I will not be its slave

    Through all the ages

    with many changing faces

    Clocks have never 

    been my friend

  • Queen of Swords
    Queen of Swords

    Standing tall, herself a stone like her stalwart hall

    The Queen of Swords commands a quality of sternity

    Righteous ambition in her aesthetic goals

    Composed mind, calculating, cold

    No half measures she’s the whole package

    Sharper than a saber's edge

    always centered in attention

  • Her Tyrannical Vanity
    Her Tyrannical Vanity

    Her crime, Seeing only 

    herself Imposed prison. 

    a weathered Victorian vanity

    Begot only punishment,

    as a world without wonder 

    had rendered her blind. 

  • Amor Tiburone
    Amor Tiburone

    Oh my Bonita, dear Maria, 

    Im sending you my chilling, 

    February love, En la forma 

    de un Valentina dia shark.

    Your warm blood attracts

    Amor Tiburones

    con Lasers beaming 

    heat-seeking your heart-beating 

    Oh Maria, Submarina

    you’re an easy target 

    for my requin to find

    While mi corazón attacks me

    tu Sangre Caliente

    attracts Amor Tiburones

    con Lasers beaming

    Someone stop me from 

    Sending you my chilling

    February love en la forma

    De un Valentina dia shark

    •

    • Writing Speaks

    Poetry 

    • Virginia's Glade

      I wonder when it became commonplace 

      to sit out of a life, a try we all should have given 

      I apologize, I apologize for not giving up 

      on a world we all could have believed in. 

      I wonder why we’d rather rape the world

      confiscate her land, compete for a missing piece, 

      all four corners, puzzle complete 

      instead of taking a chance on peace

       

      only after pain do we contemplate 

      how everything we seem to complicate 

      Allow me to apologize to the planet

      I apologize for giving up on our world 

      small blue dot we all could have and believed in. 

      I wonder why we would rather be 

      locking up and burying our dirty secrets, 

      why we would rather leave our bones

       

      to hollow out wherein they remain 

      instead of turning into a skeleton key

      unlocking a door that could release us 

      shed the weight of material enslavement. 
    • Disarmaments

      Bloody sweet catharsis, 

      I love the feeling 

      you give me the most 

      you always know what to say

      only with the acknowledgment

      of the truth in pain, you teach me

      How easy it is to take it all away

      No longer will I hold you only within 

      Ill release you by talking about it

      If I was a book you wrote all over 

      i’d ask What’s on your mind?

      I’ll be patient and listen

      I’ll be a loyal scribe.

      Because the pen is a doctor 

      and we are inpatients of time.

      Will you lay your wounds on me?

      Rest your headache on my armoire

      I will be a respit for broken arms

      Now spread your tired wings 

      in silent meditations

      seek solace in daily affirmations

      say your worst, make me a target 

      take my words and mark them,

      then fly far away from me

      Scatter all horrible things.

      I thought Your hearth was 
    • No Passenger

      NO PASSENGER

      By Raphael Foer 

       

      Wrought from Jupiter’s cyclonic dome 

      I hoped Minerva would know me 

      well enough to show me 

      that sooner or later It would be time 

      for one of us to flow down 

      an old kingdoms rivers

      and drown in denial.

      but were scared to be alone

      so well remain budding 

       

      every night I would replay you for a fool 

      and were playing the old rolls 

      growing poor from always 

      paying the toll for it

       

      I used to hope that at some point 

      you would know It would be time 

      for one of us to leave the safety

      of our thin skin, thick castle walls behind 

       

      I’ll send my phalanx to cross over

      Roman bridges, only when it comes time 

      to burn the pontis down and watch 

      centurions drown in stygian rivers 

       

      would Charuns decrepit gondola wait for us 
    • Changeling

      Changeling

      By Raphael Foer

       

      Take a trillion lives 

      For each soul that ever was

      and bleed them into one. 

      A virus spread to all corners won.

       

      Take a trillion beliefs 

      for each mind that ever thought

      now bleed them into one,

      I cry for those silenced prophets.

       

      like a vulture, savage scavenger,

      profit off the Vibrant Cultures.

      Eat them whole, erase their colors, 

      what made them special, now a carcass. 

       

      Another Indian trail smothered,

      branch broken, native path stolen.

      In the name of the gospel build shrines

      for the Enslavement of all peoples. 

       

      Rape their women, pave over nature,

      Rewrite their stories, gut them like a pig.

      Drain the blood, and wring the cloth 

      of saturation until nothing remains. 

       

      This cognitive bias, I call it