from under the earth

Product Development Infographic

The Fashion design industry works year around almost a year in advance. this is a calendar year including seasons and what stage the produce is in at any given time.

Smart deco two thousand & eleven

This was the invitation for the second annual swing dance & silent film
party.
by Daniel Ramer

Kings with crowns upside down

Pawns & bishops at fray.
At war we wage our earthen way, at war we pretend to play.
Our strongholds we raise up to the sky, in brick we place or trust.
In the image of self righteous man, we worship our own dust.
But just as blind to the future as to our squandered past,
the kingdoms we have sculpted surely will not last.
The earth will tremble, the people rise,
our image rase to the ground,
to the echo upon the shores "be still" it's only sound.

Mom & Dad

My mom & dad

Week Ends

Oh to the grace of a good Creator, & the sacred Sabbath He so blessed, that He in all His foresight gave us a day, to sit in rest. But so often in our worldly hearts, we run rampant each day into the next. Reaching with empty hands clawing at success. But what then will that win us, but to each our early death?
Thank you dear sweet Savior for the day you were laid to rest, that then you rose the next, Oh how we... are doubly blessed.
Love Daniel

Intentional

A hive of anticipation whirls within my ribs.
Is this the start to something immeasurably exciting?
A war worth waging, a city worth saving, a cowardice worth fighting.
I think so... No! I know well, it is.

A flood of fears and doubts flutter behind my eyelids.
Will the tremble of my voice, expose me for what I feel.
Victory and defeat tinged with sourer and sweet, both palpably real.

yearlong poem

This is for my yesterday
Splitting the sky woe-lorn with light resounding.
The grey sheds away at this new days founding.

yearlong poem

Splinted moment and fracture is what we see.
But to those not plagued by time it might be, as eternity.

Yearlong poem

By all that I have done and all my means and measure.
If I were still in Yesterday I would be without pleasure.

yearlong poem

The still silent stream spirals on into the distant dawn.
This days cast anew, yesterday spills away into the bygone.

Today is the first day, so it marks the last line in this yearlong attempt to write a single 365 line poem. I hope to even include work backlogged form days I am away from internet.

Hopeful Romantic

The art and poem were both composed some time ago but I thought it a fitting start all the same.