KRIKOS – Word of Mouth

BASTART exhibit July 1st-8th Loft 55

FOR PURCHASES USE EMAIL FOR INQUIRIES OR VISIT MY STORE ON ETSY: https://www.etsy.com/shop/BASTARTE?ref=l2-shopheader-name Like, follow & purchase original politically inspired anti-art pieces, part of the official Bastart collection by Syrian-Armenian artist Krikos. Currently residing in Orlando, FL. Visit my page, twitter & instagram @KRIKOS88. All commissions and professional inquiries can be sent to KRIKOSoffocial@gmail.com. I haveContinue reading “BASTART exhibit July 1st-8th Loft 55”

Israel?

Is the two-state solution, like the entirety of the concept of a ‘Modern Israel” – a farce? Demographics, as well as rational science, as well as religion, altogether, show that Palestinians not only outnumber Jews – they are living under apartheid-like conditions; without sovereignty, dignity, and and natural human rights. The tale is that thisContinue reading “Israel?”

they spread lies to make it seem like we don’t have enough resources to be individual dreamers.

Searching for the inner me. Almost there. Praying,

Searching for the inner me. Almost there. Praying, at least, that I am almost there. I can smell it, in the air. Really.

I would say Obama did a splendid job

I would say Obama did a splendid job at the White House Correspondents Dinner. I always enjoy watching it every year. Honestly, every time I see Obama speak, it reaffirms my belief that he is on the right path towards justice.

The world is strange. I have certain desires.

The world is strange. I have certain desires. Things are mapped out for me. I can’t ignore what I want. I must mold it. Create into it. I have my loves.

Too much on my mind right now. A spliff would be nice. Debating a lot. Life decisions. Friendships. Careers. Kind of tired of irrational faith. Tired of irrational perfectionism. Tired of being limited by my self. Tired of being convinced that I do not deserve glory. Sick of not embracing my sickness, my elite quality.Continue reading

Sometimes we forget the horrors of slavery. We forget the horrors of our own suffering. I remember though. I remember very well. Now even, I fear it. I want my truth. I want my freedom, Lord.

%d bloggers like this: