Wordless Wednesday + Picture Perfect Party 22 May 2019

Mammof Toof! Click image to enlarge.

Photo taken 7 January 2017 at the Denver Museum of Nature and Science.

Photo copyright Cara Hartley/The Real Cie. You are welcome to use it, but please credit me.

Wordless Wednesday 15 May 2019

Image taken 7 January 2017 at the Denver Museum of Nature and Science

Click to enlarge

Image copyright Cara Hartley/The Real Cie

You are welcome to use it, but please credit me

Wordless Wednesday Fail: Spiraling Into the Past

Spiraling Into the Past, Version 6

Spiraling Into the Past, Version 7

Photoshop images by The Real Cie

Back in the present, Pepper listened to the strains she'd discovered all those years ago. Then they had been the sounds of freedom and rebellion. Now, although her love for these songs had never died, there was something quaint about them, accompanied by a heart-wrenching sense of loss.

From "Fetch," Team Netherworld's WIP Novel

Dedicated with love to Malcolm Young for everything he made possible

*********************************************

Hello, and welcome to another Wordless Wednesday Fail, where the Real Cie shows images (often things she's done in Photoshop) and refuses to comply with the "wordless" part of "Wordless Wednesday".

Youth is wasted on the young. When I bought this album, I was young (fourteen) and super stupid. I think I really believed these guys would be like they are on this album forever. Older than me but still young enough. Sassy, impish, but nowhere in the vicinity of actual evil, like some morons made them out to be. Actually, in spite of the provocative humor, they were really sweet people who just wanted to make the world a more enjoyable place. I loved that about them.

I never thought that less than a year after I bought this album that Bon Scott would be dead.

I could not have imagined that Phil Rudd would end up a meth addict, estranged from the band and in trouble with the law for making foolish, drug-fueled threats towards a person with whom he had a disagreement.

I certainly never thought that Malcolm Young, who created the band, would have his cognitive abilities destroyed to the point where he could no longer remember the works he created, where he didn't know the brother to whom he was so very close, and where he didn't even know who he himself was.

Y'all can't tell me that this plane of existence isn't Purgatory. I'm convinced that it is. Those of us who are stuck here are just trying to get by. Some of us, like these guys, try to make it a little nicer for their fellow inmates.

Maybe if we all learn the lesson that we need to treat each other a little more kindly, we can get out of here.

~Cie~

Not So Wordless Wednesday: Look Into My Soul

I am a Wordless Wednesday fail. I generally find myself having to explain my process or what the photo means.

Yeah...I never write down exactly what filters I use or in which order. There was a lot of overexposure and backlighting involved with this one.

~Cie~

Wordless Wednesday: Tiny, Delicate, Heartbreaking

Photoshop: The Real Cie

Original Image Copyright: / 123RF Stock Photo

Wordless Wednesday: You're Lost Little Boy Version 13

Click to Enlarge

(Not So) Wordless Wednesday: He Will Not Be Forgotten

Note:

The following song was written about a romantic breakup. It takes on a different connotation when applied to the scenario in which a person is losing their memories but another remembers everything for and about them. I never touched the person whom this post honors. He is something seraphic in my eyes, too good for this ugly world.

I struggled with whether or not to even post this, so if you comment, be decent about it, would ya?

Seven months to the day since I saw your face
You roam the earth like a fire holding out 'til the bitter end
You're holding on 'til the bitter end

I take a walk into town
It's like a dead-end street
The sidewalk sings your name underneath my feet
Echoes of forgotten love

Baby, where did you go?
Did you sail away over some distant ocean?
Darling, what we had
It cannot be taken
It cannot be stolen
And it won't be forgotten
No, it won't be forgotten

Summer disappears like a dream I had
And winter comes with a knife that cuts you down
And it never ends
Ooh, it never ends

I hurry past the place you like to drink alone
Seven months to the day you left me here on this avenue
And now I think of you

Baby, where did you go?
Did you sail away over some distant ocean?
Darling, what we had
It cannot be taken
It cannot be broken
And it won't be forgotten
No, it won't be forgotten

Seven months to the day and you don't leave a trace
I search the cracks in the ground, the tallest buildings
They never knew, oh they never knew

Baby, where did you go?
Did you sail away over some distant ocean?
Darling, what we had
It cannot be taken
It cannot be broken
And it won't be forgotten

Baby, where did you go?
Did you sail away over some distant ocean?
Darling, what we had
It cannot be taken
It cannot be stolen
And it won't be forgotten
No, it won't be forgotten

Cross-Posted to:

Dream About Me Sweet Brother

 (NSFW Blog, explicit gay erotica)

Poetry of the Netherworld

(Generally regarded as "Safe." Strong language, adult themes, occasional art nudes)

Rattling Bones Undead Musician Magazine

(Sometimes NSFW. Adult humor, strong language, occasional nudity in a humorous context)

(Not So) Wordless Wednesday: Never Forget

Let us never forget the inspiration behind so much of our recent work. 

Click to enlarge the image

Photoshop manip by Cie

Original Eye in the Sky image:

Copyright: zadvinskiy / 123RF Stock Photo

This wasn't long ago, but it was prior to the massive cerebral degeneration that leaves him unable to remember anything about his life. Even at that juncture, the eyes that were once bright and alert were now bewildered and frightened. It breaks our hearts.

He and others like him are worth remembering, even though they can't remember.

If caring is uncool, then we're proud to be uncool.

We won't ever forget.

Forget any of the supernatural horrors that we create. Those are small potatoes. Even they run crying for their mommy in the face of real-life abominations such as this.

Lewy Body Dementia is an evil force which steals the light from beautiful, bright eyes. It is a sociopathic murderer which kills dreams and memories. It is a thief that strikes in the night, leaving a sharp mind broken in shards like a fragile artifact smashed on a stone floor. It is pure malevolence. It must be stopped so no more lives are destroyed this way.

Tempest

for

Team Netherworld

Wordless Wednesday: September 24, 2014

Ya know what I love about Wordless Wednesday?

I can just take one of the photos I used in a post or for a Photoshop, slap it on the page, and publish it. It's the ultimate in lazy blogging for someone who loves to be lazy any chance she gets. Unfortunately, I don't get to be lazy very often. Even when I have down time, I tend to feel like I always have to be doing, doing, doing. 

I also don't tend to do a very good job with the Wordless part. 

"But Cheese, this is a poetry blog, not a picture blog."

Meh. Pictures? They're just wordless poetry!

~The Cheese~

30 Days of Haiga 2014: Day 10 + Wordless Wednesday

Click to Enlarge

Original Image:

Copyright: winter12345 / 123RF Stock Photo

Verse:

Opal Zushaquon

Photoshop Manipulation:

Cie Cheesemeister

The Original Image

Creator Note:

We're breaking the Wordless rule with this dual purpose post. The image was chosen and the Haiga was created in honor of a young friend of Cheesy's son, who lost his four year old son due to an anaphylactic reaction to a bee sting nearly a month ago today.

Some wounds never heal, and anyone who tells you that you should "get over" certain things is callous, ignorant, or both. With certain losses, the only thing we have found to be true is that you don't get over it, although given time you get used to it and the grief becomes less raw. 

~Opal and Cheesy~

Wordless Wednesday: Wild Rye

Tempest's Wordless Wednesday:

(Image found here.)

Wordless Wednesday: Guess How Tempest is Feeling

Wordless Wednesday: Tempest

Cross-Posted to:

Poetry of the Netherworld

Undead in the Netherworld