Creepy Doodle

Easy Creeep 2

Creepy Doodle Pg. 1

As the Crow Flies

I will sit upon my throne in this rousing coliseum of nature’s curses

Oceans of leaves applaud me from the cheap seats

A pious crow calls to his flock a prayer of remembrance

The choir sings

-Laura Chowanski

"My Palace, My Prison"

"As the Crow Flies"

Applique Fabric Art by Laura Chowanski of Xcentric Designs

Look Closer and you will see where the crow flies and why he cries out.

PAST

PRESENT

FUTURE?

This is where I keep "As the Crow Flies" on my bedroom wall.

The fan my son brought me back from China.

On the left I have a CROW mirror I bought from an Artisan a while ago - my Grandmother's prayer drape over it.

The plate on the mirror says:

Wherever crows are

there is Magic

The Mother-of-pearl inlay letter opener on the right my husband's Grandfather brought back from Korea.

The watercolor of Rottenburg, Germany, on the left I bought from a Polish woman near a bridge within the walled city.

(Girl trip with my Mom when My brother worked in Munchen.)

On the right is a plate etching of King Kong climbing the Empire State Building I bought at a craft fair near Columbus Circle in NYC.

(My husband proposed to me at the top of the Empire State Building)

The picture on the bottom is my son doing a karate kick in front of a large Buddha on the top of a mountain in China.

Body Dump in my Brain

 




There's No Telling How Many Bodies are Buried in the Woods of My Dreams.
                 Laura Chowanski

Obsession Bag; 

an appliqued, bitchen, fabric pouch necklace that holds your obsession close to your broken heart.

(fits credit cards, ID and room keys)

MADE BY: Laura Chowanski of

 XCENTRIC DESIGNS

"Who Cries for the Weeping Angel"

There’s a girl on the corner in a long black coat

That covers the hole from her gut to her throat.

I wouldn’t have noticed, I would have passes by,

But the pain that I saw she spoke with her eyes.

“They say I am forsaken, broken and lost.”

She carries her heart in a cardboard box.

Her voice was like moonlight, disturbingly sweet,

“May I ask you a question? “

My heart skipped a beat.

What seized me with pain was a ghost from the past,

I knew with whom she spoke

I would be the last.

“Someday for this kindness a debt will be paid”,

Her icy fingers on my cheek she gently did lay.

“If I ask you to choose between me and a lie,

Would you give me your heart or leave me to die?”

A tear silently fell: her voice was quite weak,

Leaving a trail of blood down her cheek.

“If I said I choose you. Would your sorrow be gone?

Would it give you the strength and courage to go on?”

“Alas, there’s no heart in my breast to keep beating,

It’s my soul the after-life needs to be greeting.”

For a girl long ago and this sorrowful wretch,

I placed her cold hand over the warmth in my chest.

At that moment, she shimmered, and drifted away,

Rest in peace for a beauty that died on this day

The eerie night whispers: the wind sings a son

You have now been forgiven

 by the one you had wronged.

Who weeps for me, the girl with no heart?

Will you dance in the darkness or tear me apart?

Promise me love and tell me you care,

Rescue me from my heart-wrenching nightmare.

Who weeps for an angel that fell far from grace?

Will you give me a kiss?

Wipe the blood from my face?

Who lays their battered hand on her cold carved stone?

Resting warm flesh above her sweet bones.

Who cries for the wretched finally at peace?

Who gave a damn

when her breath

Finally did cease?

He once said he loved her: once gave her his heart.

Does he regret her madness in which he had part?

Who cries for the weeping Angel?

Buried,

             Dead,

 and

                                                                                                                     Gone.

She’ll whisper in your ear if you sing her a song.

Laura Chowanski   1/26/2011