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Steampunk Café

Over the past year or so I started seeing all this stuff with inner works of clocks and such. I had never really taken notice that it was all labeled STEAMPUNK. When I did take notice I hadn't a clue what it meant. So feeling like an outsider wanting to get in and find out more about these rather interesting label and work I looked it up. I am now hooked on it, learning all I can and in the mean time finding wonderful works of art all over the internet. Steampunk is art all on it's own put it together with some creative hands and you have brilliance.

If you have information about this to help me better understand it please E-mail me at : Miraclekitty21@hotmail.com and please lable your e-mail STEAMPUNK.

My Other Blogs

namuko: Click for source.  It’s kind of rediculous how much I love Steampunk Couture. I also happen to love girls in tanktops.  Brown… sepia, coffee, coffee stained sepia colored old newspapers, torn pages in old books; espresso scented coffee bean jewelry, tea time with brass kettles, laced fingers golden knuckles… Cafes full of poets, vegan menus climbing walls like vines in a jungle.. Golden flaked luna moths floating through windows, landing in ash trays, coughing up fool’s gold… Flan drizzled in honey, like the coffee breath she breathes silently, flowing down me.. toes uncurl in the milky sunset, flesh painted in shadows swirling like milk tea… Rust flavored lips pursed in frustration; angry towers gnawing at the environment; broken boots and replaced buckles; flinging suspenders over shoulders in twilight; tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-pocket watch cracked, set to eight-oh-six…

namuko:

Click for source. 

It’s kind of rediculous how much I love Steampunk Couture. I also happen to love girls in tanktops. 

Brown… sepia, coffee, coffee stained sepia colored old newspapers, torn pages in old books; espresso scented coffee bean jewelry, tea time with brass kettles, laced fingers golden knuckles… Cafes full of poets, vegan menus climbing walls like vines in a jungle.. Golden flaked luna moths floating through windows, landing in ash trays, coughing up fool’s gold… Flan drizzled in honey, like the coffee breath she breathes silently, flowing down me.. toes uncurl in the milky sunset, flesh painted in shadows swirling like milk tea… Rust flavored lips pursed in frustration; angry towers gnawing at the environment; broken boots and replaced buckles; flinging suspenders over shoulders in twilight; tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-pocket watch cracked, set to eight-oh-six…

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Hi-Res Photo

10.18.2010 |
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