Ask me anything   My name's Tanner Palm, I draw and write stuff. This blog is dedicated to the skate rats , radical street bum/bumettes, sidewalk serpentines, dead heads, live heads, basket cases, brief cases, comic lovers, or if your just here, and you don't remember how you got here,.. So dig it.

This site has no heads or tails to it, just me messing around, I have a story in the making, but until it's written and drawn, i'll continue posting bits and pieces of whatever here

Letter to a fellow artist and friend.

Letter to a fellow artist and friend.

— 3 days ago with 1 note
#surreal  #painter  #poetry  #letter 
On the road comic. (True story)

On the road comic. (True story)

— 3 days ago with 1 note
the prodigal children

The prodigal children have died
And woke in the sea.

Their finger paintings are locked
Away in Smithsonian sub basements.

They wear the same
Fairy wings, parting the
Bone crushing blackness. Still
Children. Still bound for pain
But they swim in sync, a school
Of candy scales and immortality.

Soon they will surface and feel
A million years pass. Naked
And painted on the shore of
One island, one radio of static
And one deaf, screaming head.

They will throw their stained
Wings on a lone rock, and
It will emphasize but not
Comfort their delusion.

The waves will wash them
And the colors will drain back
To the immortal sea.

They will be camoflauged
Under the fate of unforgiving sun
To sleep forever

And only the smallest of
Lifeforms will continue to
Dance on their adult bodies.

— 3 days ago with 3 notes
#edm  #rave  #festival  #candy  #dubstep  #edc  #bonnaroo. pitchfork  #lollapalooza 
I’ve created a monster

I’ve created a monster

— 4 days ago with 4 notes
Valley sketch. Panic man

Valley sketch. Panic man

— 4 days ago with 3 notes

Stirring inside canvas. (Dismembered, and nothing to remember) morning announcements to the staff and then orchestra music. Far away you can hear explosions, and the walls of the tent glow like a paper lantern. “Who am I?” He asks the nurse who writes on a clipboard. “You are the artist, you are crippled, the voice of the world. “But how can that be if this is all I know?” “Relax.. Swallow this and the question” she hands him a Dixie cup. “You are important, you are inspiration for the masses” the girl next to him (always on her side) and near death is beautiful he thinks. A constellation of freackles and auburn flowing down sharp shoulder blades. He dosnt need to see her face to know she’s beautiful. Paintings pile up next to her bed, grotesque sad faces, each one more childish than the last, but familiar to him. He tugs on her blanket and whispers “I understand” the nurse finishes writing and puts her hand on his cold forehead. “Close your eyes and let the music take you.” He does and she opens the labtop for him. His fingers begin writing a story to the ups and downs of Mozart. A story of animal snarl fire and instinct. He realizes then that he’s watching himself like a ghost and he weeps. The nurse puts her hand on his shoulder so he knows he’s not really dead. “You are special, you may see only a corpse, but he is you, the deepest subconscious and knowing inside of you, we help you to free him. You cry for him but he cries for the entire world.” “I do not understand.” She chuckles “your the artist, you will never understand” eventually he falls back into himself, and come morning he finds himself chimed to the same iv stand. He does not remember having legs, but from the knees down he can feel the phantom itch. He looks to the girls newest painting, not a face but quote. “If you understand then why do you cry?” He tugs at her blanket again, this time almost stripping her. “Hey, you can hear me can’t you? Please say something, I feel so alone here” she rolls over exposing a crater of what was once a face. “How could this console you?” “I assure you it does, I too have no face, and up until now I’ve never looked, but trust me, you have no idea how good it feels to see it for the first time in your eyes” “your crazy, its just the meds talking.” “But we haven’t gotten them yet” “so were both….right now?” “-yes I think we are, can you see yourself also?” “Yes, I look like a monster” “no. Your beautiful, your real and not a dream” “now you really sound crayzy” he takes her hand. “Will you leave with me?” “But you cannot walk?” “Will you carry me?” “Where?” “Whereever, whatevers out there. Am I getting ahead of myself? If I am I’m sorry.” “No…no your not., I can see myself in you now. Really i can. and I trust you can see through this horrid Halloween mask.” A tear falls to her scratchy blanket. The man smiles. ” if we die we will at least where we came from, who we might have been, and if we live I will never let you go.” The skeleton girl groans as she stands for the first time. And she sees all her paintings for the first time too. Similar wounded faces childishly finger painted.and she feels like a toddler on weak wobbling knees. She picks him up and cradles him like a child. They walk down the aisle of beds and the corpses all cry and cheer them on like a wedding. “What shall we call ourselves then?” She asks him. He touches her face. “Survivors. Not artists, not suffering but just surviving.” They exit the canvas hospital in a flash of light. And they see it, the ruins of all those beautiful souls and buildings. They look to the sky where the war ravages on and they see only stars, they Realize then that they too are only stars, and they burn…. They walk into the unknown and burn

— 6 days ago

“To sethsquatch” Brother, we are the endless smoke Break, (scrolling scrolling scrolling) ————————————————— The endless pixilated funeral and to Them we are ghost’s, but to me You are alive and well. ——————————- I see you With your phone, But I also see you driving & Loving her even though she’s young And confused, (the road danger The smoke danger,) and I hear Your music, I obsessively change The tune, (Im sorry) & I see you nervously gripping The wheel, violent with intention And I wonder how you do it, I’ve forgotten what it feel’s like To not want to let go of something, But I see you and even though I’m a year older, you’re a million Miles ahead, (Remember this) —————————————- If you get married I’ll be the Proud rusty cans dragging behind you ———————————————- If she leaves you l will grab the wheel Even though I have no idea How to steer —————————————- I will play your song, I will pretend to feel your Pain as we are both holding our Bloody faces under the over pass, ———————————————— Because brother, you make me proud, And I know I know, (this is another speed driven rant) But I mean it from the deepest part Of our belated childhood existanse, ———————————————————- I mean it from my college dropouts & treatment bullshit mind fucked over And over again (Just fucking myself) ————————————— Because all along you were the one With both hands on the wheel, ——————————— You were the one who drove This dirty ass impala, & I thank you, ————— I hope she never leaves you And if she does, I’ll ride with as We break the bridge’s rail And land in a fucking river —————————— I’ll fucking be there to make Sure we both die

— 1 week ago
#tumbler poetry  #poet  #friend  #tanner palm  #poetry 
"Parlor trick’s and wedding bell’s"

(-It’s quiet inside)

Just faint country music being played

And torn throats being cleared,

(Generations of love dead to this bar)


A young man enters,

Just a chin of stubble

And shade beneath his brim


(Out for blood)

He spits to the peanut shell

And pull tab floor, then

Slowly, (& For only their sake)

Looks up from under

The old weathered hat


The drunks roll eye

And go back to their drinks,


Every fly knows him

Without having to meet him

(They recognize his face)


(A forehead line

& Wolf tooth snarl)


“Rest in peace you fucker”

–The bartender whispers,


“And If he is anything

Like you, well then

God help us all.”


The kid curls nostril

And smells for something that

Won’t put up a defense



He says to himself &

Walks toward the girl

In the far back corner


(Hanging above her

Is the framed photo

Of a retriever holding

His first trophy pheasant)


“Be a dog” -He tells him self,


“Father said to always be the dog”


He sits down in the stool across from her

And loudly slaps a pack of smokes

And Zippo on the table


(She look’s up from her dream

Starring at the waxy table,

But doesn’t really wake.)


“You smoke?” –He asks


“Can’t afford it, and only when I’m drunk”


“Then let’s get drunk,

Here, take the whole pack,

I have another”


The man whistles for the bartender

But doesn’t turn from her,


“Bartender, two double whiskeys, two

Ice cubes in each, if there is 3 or 4

I send them back”


Eye’s roll again and the

Bartender snorts beer from his nose,

Knowing all too well that drink by bow


“Hey beautiful, do you want to see

Me do a trick?” -He asks her


“Shoot” she say’s, (unimpressed)


(He take’s father’s colt

From an old army holster on his hip)


“Jesus, it was a figure of speech, ok?

I’ll watch your stupid trick”


(She’s not scared of the gun,

But instead the man holding it,

The same way that her father once did,)


“Darling, this is my trick, now pay attention ”


He takes something from an

Ammo belt slung over

His shoulder


“Ok, now stick this in your mouth”


(A man two chairs down tries to

Muffle laughter)


“Excuse me but where do you get of-?”


“Just look” -he interrupts


He is looking down to her,

(Signaling to grab the little cup

In his hand)


She knows that

it isnt an offer


“Like this, see?”


-He shows her, biting down

On it, his front teeth

Securing it by the lip of rim


“Like this?” (She mock’s, making her voice deep,

& scratchy)


“Exactly, now stay sitting there,

And when I get to that other

Wall, I want you to stiffen your whole

Body & close your eyes real tight

Like you just came”


He begins counting paces,

Foot by foot across

The bar room floor


“And then what?”

-She shouts to him, (The bald

Heads looking back and

Fourth from lover to lover)


“Just do what I say, ok?”


He positions himself

Exactly a yard from the wall

And exactly 55 paces

Of space between,

And she nod’s with cup in teeth

(Already starting to wince)


“Good, now, close your eye’s

And think about something

That really ticks you off,

Something other than this of course”


(She thinks of father.) &



With smoke now

Escaping from the barrel

And a tear escaping

Her left eye to the floor,

(She takes a deep breath,

Spit’s the hot metal

Cup into her hand

& Shakes out the bullet)


She notices then that the cup

Was silver plated and

Rusted metal underneath


“Well, at least you

Can afford nice things” -She tells him


“Yea, women like you can always

Spot the nicest thing from a

Room full of crooked men like us”


He spins the rifle

With it’s hair thin trigger

Then holsters it


“But I can give you more than

Just money”


(She thinks about his offer), &

Lights a cigarette from

The full pack he gave her,


“You have any more tricks?” -She asks


“Uh no, I just finished learning this one”


(That’s it. The jig is up,

He’s a broken character, a cover blown)


He considers

Running, but if he did that

He would shame

The good family name


“Well I can’t just see the same thing again and again”


-She says, blowing smoke in his face


“Us women, when we see the nicest thing

In the room, well sometimes we realize that

We want something nicer”


(His shoulders sink)


“But you already know that, don’t you?”


-She prod’s him, (seeing that he’s about ten years younger now)


“Well I could always learn some more tricks

For you, it’s just that this one took so long to learn”


“Oh please, how hard could it be?”


She takes the gun from his

Holster, and all the men

Start to laugh

& Knock

Glasses in celebration,

Knowing that once again they

Can pick up women in

Their own bar


“I mean seriously, the only thing that

YOU did was shoot the gun, why

Don’t you try catching it for once?”


She take’s the engraved

Colt and walks

20 feet from him to the

Middle of the bar,

(Everyone is turned

Around with big excited eye’s)


She closes both

Eyes & pulls the trigger




The gun kicks

Her in the nose

And the impact

Knocks her back

Into a pool table


(The boy had no time

To think or reason)

And so he

Took it to the brow


Spraying the painting, and landing in her chair


The only thing that his father ever told

Him about in life was how to shoot a gun,

And it’s the only thing that her 

Father ever showed her how to do

(Back when she was young enough

To never put up a fight)


He never showed her how to hold it though in the end. 


(Both families, & all generations lost to this bar)

— 3 weeks ago
#poetry  #tanner palm  #short story  #western short story  #western  #cowboy  #love  #murder