fight to live

Trivial daunting
Light becomes haunting
Life less than living
I feel very guilty
So empty of filling
I’m wanting I’m yearning
I don’t cry. I should cry.
I’m much less more fortunate
My life is ornate
Privileged but burning
Crumbling for upkeep
Passion dwells hazy
In the corners of each eye
Always there but not fully
I can’t ever reach it
Too shy to exist
I must will it
And call it
And yearn

Sidewalk

Balancing on the edge of the sidewalk is tricky business.
One hearty gust of wind, and no matter how much arm-flailing,
falling from that ledge is inevitable.
A slight heart-skip and a step up later,
I find myself on the ledge once again.
I close my eyes and imagine i am on top of the tallest building.
Twilight has set upon the city, and a storm is rolling in.
I feel the first kisses of baby raindrops on my face.
The mist snaps at my senses, and my ankles start to wobble and strain.
It suddenly feels much higher up.
But I can’t step away from the ledge.
The fear of falling is hidden behind a veil of wonders.
The sun is flickering like a child’s heavy eyes,
upon the tops of cars lining roads like veins through the city.
The wild has come to reclaim their forest.
I see raccoons, and skunks, and possums,
and squirrels running feverishly free.
I wonder what falling would feel like.
I know my ankles and knees are in favour,
but my heart is hiding in my throat.
The wind is much stronger up here.
The baby drops have grown up into rain now.
I was once told that God is in the rain.
I wonder if He’ll give me wings.
I step forwards, heart swelling in my throat!
And it sinks back down as I land on cement.
Beside my sidewalk.
What limitations.

Light Age

Light Age, by Chelsea Papps.

acrylic on canvas

suspended, stuck.

Mother pleads for her boy not to go.
Man is done with rules and walls.
Bricks of limitations and expectations and
freedom is in the night.
It snakes around black with danger
and stars' cold stare.
Eyes of mothers; many children lost.
Dark whispers in directions and circles
always leading down to hit earth.
Pleasure before pain.
An acidic household corroding and peeling
at edges of skin and nerves
like fire, and a rope holding something special up.
Mother broken, blames the husband.
Man to boy. who rules this kingdom?
Of a flame and a rope and something special.
Tears flow hazy glazes over vision of too many backs turned.
Mother blames eternity and God's wicked humour.
Mother ready to fall at the lick of a flame.
~ Chelsea Papps

Trapped

A feather can float on a breath for it's lifetime. My feather tells me of freedom with rain and speckles illuminated in sun and rainbows with eight colours. My feather lives in my image until i inhale once again. ~ Chelsea Papps

One Loud Night: Ode to Sony

stereo blinks morse code
screen set to demo
if it had a brain
it could be my hero
soothe me deep into sleep
an embryonic floating state
coo softly in the corner
ease out all the notes like bate
draw me in now protect me
the house won't cease it's screaming
if you coddle me in thrumming
then i'll pretend that i'm just dreaming
draw me in...
~ Chelsea Papps

Completed Pieces and Exploratory Art

This one was inspired by my brother. It shows penguins trying to escape a burning field to pluto. The ozone is melting away, and if you look closely there is a clock in the centre of pluto. Very apocalyptic.










One of my creations; an angel. It holds it's soul (or spirit/essence) in it's hands.


















It has the ability of absorbing the spirit of animals into it's own, becoming one with them. With the spirit of a bird, he unveils wings.















Another abyss. It seems to contain the theme of mother nature, and the circle of life. There are fairies hidden throughout the picture.















A little girl, who wants to take her own path through life, even if it means falling into mistakes along the way.

This is how music affects me. I can float in it for what seems like eternity, electricity dancing overmy skin in rainbows and textures.













I use nudity as innocence. This is a watercolour of a blind girl seeing beauty through the sense of touch. A feather falls from her hand.





This picture contains a theme i've been developing. A cloud emerges from the head, illustrating the conscience, the sub-conscience, the spirit, anything. The emotion rains down from the cloud.










A girl trapped in walls. She projects a vision of a girl hugging a power tool as moustaches rain from her cloud. It's a joy the trapped girl will never be able to indulge in.

Clippings taken from the Sears Christmas Catalogue.















a drawing from my waking dreams. Sneakers rain down from the cloud.


















A rainbow shoots from the third eye changing bombs into birds. It's a very simple and child-like message.