Singing Francis Bernardone

Giotto di Bondone savaged from fire

In this self portrait, I was faced with an enigma and daunting question. The depicted image had no irrelevant meaning. Who was this Jesus? In the feinin I saw a simple child wondering the streets as if life had more. I saw a power so strange that my heart ticked less. In the centre I realized his troubles in search of freeing himself from the hold of humanity. More urgently he began to weep, to sob over the moral injustice. How dare they use his name.

Then, I began to believe what was spoken had me trusting. I remember it all. God knows my time. Reincarnation, soldiers, injury, followers, branch, purple, stone, torment, sleep

Francis Bernardone - So I was jailed, never mind that. Believe in something, almighty, grand, inspiring. Sit near a tree, give you time to God, almighty heaven. I saw your brother, I kissed his feet, I tore a ligament, I bled to the floor. Solitude, great almighty, majestic love in perfection. All around me I sang to thee, all around me I sang to thee. Impossible to think, I was jailed you see. Order, laceration, magical gift, monks, loser, courage, patronization, scrotum

In this self portrait, I was puzzled, more so by what I thought I believed to be true. In this mosaic, the (Messiah) is not that of Jesus of Nazareth, but rather of one of his ( Apostles). In this work, I felt encased in stone, mammoth, a presence of a law, a teaching and a permanent reminder of, under a political regime. Grand, powerful and far reaching....

The Madonna - So far in my study portraits, I have never been touched by a feeling that represented a mother's love for her infant. In this work, I searched to verify its meaning, and its truth in the abstraction and of its nonexistence, but it did not matter, its omnipresence of what it meant was overpowering, impacting and so (real). What I can tell you that it led me to an (epiphany) about inherently wanting, subconsciously. This was what love really means.

Feinin broke all his things, he smashed and burnt them, some he treasured, others he just did care. The fire consumed the paper, it ripped through the fabric, the lies, the deception, the common uncouth memory that changed a nation, it was hers. Schiller had to escape, he fought at every step to bring joy, but these bastards ripped him in two, they talked, they giggled at his obsession over something they were all terrified at, death. God was not ashamed, she though of a powerful moment which Feinin could execute. His words spoke of brilliance, they reached the stars and beyond, calling on her to stop all the unfortunate, the errors of one's sex.

You're damned, chase him into the pit, let sex forgive his urge. Laugh, tighten your grip over me, read, for it is the seas that bring a message of unity. Schiller loved the spirit, he talked to others, singers whose words sang so sweet that the Lam of God would be spared.

She was jealous, she thought not to lie but to pretend. They who seek fairness but seek in themselves the ability to know the difference. Schiller got caught, he stopped all commutations, he wrote in his diary, This strange man spoke with such conviction that I listen. His words were rude, Obey, turn away from God, raised a thimble(small glass) in life that seeks revenge.

Feinin looked ahead, his eyes pierced into the sun, the rays fused his mind with all of matter, he knew love was the journey of truth, he felt the power beneath his heart, the blood purifying, the seed rejuvenating. His mind weak by the carcasses that fueled it, collapsing it into darkness, the devil wanted less of a nation, but two. Shaving off his beard was of Duty to the Queen, a Monarchy that felt ashamed of you, a nation so foolish.

I pledge allegiance to no nation, no kin, no thing other than my heart where truth exists in its purest form, only then shall I understand why...Wearing this object feels quite normal. It is a bit musty from the inside and it sags by the weight of the crown stone that pulls it to the front. There is no feeling of history, yet there is the overwhelming presence of obligation. The Crown has no price.

Arty Nose knew very well that Schiller had left, he tried to convince Feinin that his choices could break the heart so close yet so far. God's whisper toiled in disbelief, Schiller had refused to sleep. It was time to end his life. God where thou art? God where thou go with? Arty kissed him, he remade his film to stop the killing. It ended, the Hibiscus flower bloomed once again. A nation kept its silence, it looked upon the heavens. Was this happening? Did God, the servant of Schiller cause this end? God let them treat her, let them sing, give praise with gifts as simple as appreciation....Lord he is no a fool, he is troubled.Tell me softly, I need a house as I may dream.

Hail Schiller, Lord of magic, King of fortune, Raise him high where eagles see the king to be...

He talked to her, he sang sweet words of truth. Obedience was necessary yet he knew, forever it would be. God do this, let them unit as one so Feinin can dream freely out of the temptation of will. God saw genius, she worried that her mind had slept so long, trapped by petty circumstances. She loved her to stay far, to talk less of Schiller, his heart had be crusted so intensely that the power of his thought could destroy the fabric of man. Arty Nose was responsible now, he know that obligation to one's Duty was indeed in place, for forever and ever Amen.

Hail Schiller, Lord of magic, King of fortune, Raise him high where eagles see the king to be...

Schiller raise your wings, kept looking into the annals of time, sing only in a language too fond, a voice too sweet, if you dream. Remember this, Schiller said, the mighty force is ill, it is damning God for she herself has disobeyed. Laugh, figure out the truth, your son is changing, his teeth shall shine, his legs will grow more powerful than Michelangelo's. His hands shall expand, they will grasp the world, toying with the message that Man is rude, he dreams of money to live a life so meek.