Welcome to Hell.
Her laugh was wearing off.Those people make our endcontingent on the air…ouch.Sour he mustn’t behe bet without saying.It was a long nodat the waking hoursas I was leavingunder a hem with herin search of our particular problem.The awful nightis hardly ever seen.Everyone can believebut what makes you thinkwithout batting an eyelash?She talks aboutfixing up the lousy dread…replace our fire.You can’t just tell her your heart?
She’s so lonely,sad.Helplessly be her.She doesn’t hear what I say.

-More of my work @ www.arguspaul.com

Welcome to Hell.


Her laugh was wearing off.
Those people make our end
contingent on the air…
ouch.

Sour he mustn’t be
he bet without saying.

It was a long nod
at the waking hours
as I was leaving
under a hem with her
in search of our particular problem.

The awful night
is hardly ever seen.

Everyone can believe
but what makes you think
without batting an eyelash?

She talks about
fixing up the lousy dread…
replace our fire.

You can’t just tell her your heart?

She’s so lonely,
sad.

Helplessly be her.

She doesn’t hear what I say.
-More of my work @ www.arguspaul.com
I know you feel 
strange trembling devil
shaking me big
in that kettle.
She never did drink, 
to it she tried, 
but I conceal myself.
                                                                                                                                           
I enter with 
an instant big.

She made me
and she makes me 
drink blood.
                                                                                                                                            
Blood,
my blood.
Blood,
I give blood.
                                                                                                                                           
Woman have you?
I do not wake you
silencing this child.                                                                                                                                            
-More of my work @ www.arguspaul.com

I know you feel 

strange trembling devil
shaking me big
in that kettle.

She never did drink, 
to it she tried, 
but I conceal myself.
                                                                                                                                           
I enter with 
an instant big.
She made me
and she makes me 
drink blood.
                                                                                                                                            
Blood,
my blood.
Blood,
I give blood.
                                                                                                                                           
Woman have you?
I do not wake you
silencing this child.                                                                                                                                            
-More of my work @ www.arguspaul.com

Hey Tumblr friends,

Recently, my found poem artwork has received a lot of attention and I wanted to thank everyone by sharing my found poem/art book with everyone. It’s free.

Thank you again and hopefully I’ll have a new ebook art soon. The next one will be based on my street photography in Korea, so keep your eyes peeled.

Best and warmest wishes,

A Paul

A good man is dead
when dogs jump breathlessly.                                                                                                



We stand under the gray light.
I’m the small figure waiting
slowly without seasons                                                                                                  
              

and that man wouldn’t care
if he never made the train…                                                                                                       


And what suddenly
caught his attention
he might have forgot.                                                                                                                                


Down the last
yellow brick road,
an unsteady wall
had held him
silently until
a little distance
then breathed,                                                                                                                                   

                                                                                                                                           
"Art is possible to you.
Go on up the corner.”                                                                                                                                       



But that gave him
a wild look
of misery.                                                                                                                         
                                                                                                                                            
-More of my work @ www.arguspaul.com

A good man is dead

when dogs jump breathlessly.                                                                                                
We stand under the gray light.
I’m the small figure waiting
slowly without seasons                                                                                                  
              
and that man wouldn’t care
if he never made the train…                                                                                                       
And what suddenly
caught his attention
he might have forgot.                                                                                                                                
Down the last
yellow brick road,
an unsteady wall
had held him
silently until
a little distance
then breathed,                                                                                                                                   
                                                                                                                                           
"Art is possible to you.
Go on up the corner.”                                                                                                                                       
But that gave him
a wild look
of misery.                                                                                                                         
                                                                                                                                            
-More of my work @ www.arguspaul.com