Cosmic Paintings
by Mike Marks Cicirelli.

Affordable, many at $30 per one-of-a-kind,
original paintings
[not prints!]

signed and specially priced for Summer 2014

I create my paintings on cost effective, heavy weight, white glossy cardboard, sized 8.5 x 11 for easy framing, so I am able and happy to offer them to people who prefer to own a hand painted one-of-a-kind original,
rather than a mass produced one-of-many print, at affordable prices in this challenging economy... and because the board is acid-free the artwork will endure for decades (while looking great in a frame)


Contact  Delaware
Phone: 1-302-740-3195  



Monk Leaving Temple

Click on any image below to enlarge. .
Paintings are one-of-a-kind originals (not prints!)
so only one of each may be ordered. Paintings marked Sold are not available for purchase

Click any image to access shopping cart. Free shipping in USA

Brain Bleeding Planet
item 0101 Sold
Fountain Tree
item 0069  Sold
Mystic tree
item 0081  Sold

Brother Eye
item 110 $30

Cold Blue
item 111  not available

Golden City
item 112  Sold

Planet America
item 107  $30

Remember When
item 108  $30

item 109 $30
Stain Glass Sky
item 0059  Sold
item 0102  Sold
item 0054  Sold
Bringing Life Foward
item 0092   Sold
Prayer of Transition
item 0105 $35
Three Worlds
item 0095 $30

Melting Sky
item 113 $30

Neptune and Family
item 114  $30

Collapsing Space
item 115  $30


item 0038  $30
item 0030 Sold
item 0025  Sold











Judging the World
item 0087  $40
item 0007  $30
Woman Watching Ra
item 0088  $40
Neptune Nappin'
item 0089    not available
item 0094  $40
item 0065  $30
item 0020  Sold
Winged Demon
item 0019  $30
Witnessing Words on
a Stardust Wall
item 0091  $40
Meditating Popping Open Moon
item 0033    Sold
Riding Meditation
item 0032    Sold
Meditating Easter Island
item 0036    $30

my own completed novel told in 99 chapters:  Manifestation Searches Oblivion
a sci-fi spiritual tale of time jumping, identity shifting, the disassembly and reassembly of a person in parallel to the universe around, and the search of the original two lovers split from the One to find their authentic other, you can read chapter -3 here
   Chapter 77 here Chapter -2 here   Chapter 26 here  Chapter 42 and 42.5 here










item 0090  $60
item 0050  $35
Celestial Horse Run Free
item 0008
item 0067  $30
item 0102  $35
item 0044   $30

Work in Progress: Beyond the Beatles
Intro and chapter 1, 2, 3, 4 and 5 of my recollections of John, Paul, George, Ringo, media and culture, and a bit of Elvis, Superman and other stuff, as I witnessed it in my life through the 60's

view and read all as a PDF here



item 0034  $30
Guitar City
item 0042  $35
John and Paul
item 0012  Sold
item 0015  $30

My Music
Outlaw Blues
You're Getting Too Serious
Beatlefest 2012
2012 live performance, shuffle blues,
myself on guitar and vocals with band
Original song I wrote, sing and play guitar on, accompanied by bass and drums, I soundtracked onto a collage of my paintings and personal pics with Flash MX
I joined a lobbyful of Beatle fans to guitar, sing and celebrate Beatle songs the way they should be celebrated, with joy and community


item 0018   Sold
Howdy Supes
item 0098 sold
item 0099  sold
item 0021  $30

Original children's story: Awakening to Matter
I volunteered to read to some children one Sunday morning so the Saturday before I thought it might inspire their creativity if I wrote an original story just for them so I ended up writing one while simultaneously laying it out in Adobe InDesign until about midnight I thought "what am I nuts trying to get this finished in so short a time" and I collapsed into some sleep and when I woke up everything was clear and put together for me in my head and I finished and printed the pages and stapled it all together into a book that you can view and read as a pdf  here

Strong Santa
item 0014  Sold
Planets Painting the Landscape
item 0062  $30
Mount of Transfiguration
item 0102  $35 
Santa Under a Red Planet
item 0063  $30
Santa Out of the Sunburst Sky
item 0041  $30
Source Lightning
item 0093  $30
Santa Night
item 0053  $30
Symphony in Purple
item 0058  $30
Sunny Day
item 0022  Sold

Monk Leaving Temple
item 0055  $400

Confronting the Barrier
item 0071 $30
item 0070  not available
Gunslinger at Desert Edge
item 0031  Sold
Passion Planet
item 006 $30
Flame Creature
item 0024  Sold
Aurora Borealis
item 0076  $30
Abornin' Universe
item 0046  $30
Earth Dripping Trees
item 0004   Sold

Red Moon
item 0072  Sold
Planet Mold
item 0097 $30
Old Asian
item 0068  $30
Mother Moon
item 0086  $40
item 0029  Sold
Memorial in the Dark
item 0078  $30
Planet thru Haze
item 0083  Sold
item 000 Sold
M Theory Personified
item 0103

Gown and Mask
item 0028  $30
Smoke Dragon
item 0037  $30
Universe Revealing the Letter A
item 0027  Sold
Manifestation Holding Planets, Oblivion Observing
item 0052  Sold
Night and Stone
item 0026  Sold
Parallel Worlds
item 0045  Sold

my Evolving Essays (and a poem)


Thoughts in my brain I don’t know if they’re mine

Witnessing them all of the time

Telling me things I couldn’t possibly know

Ancient wisdom from a long time ago

If they’re in my head they must be mine

Even if given to me from the outside

The creation of all that is

Variety to hide the loneliness

Of being the only being that exists

Imagine others and give them life

Another hand to hold the sex or the knife

Loving me or murdering me

Keeping me blind so I can continue to see

The fantasy of multiple worlds

Imagination in swirl

One voice many notes singing to ourselves

Of green fields in Heavens and screaming fears in Hells

And classrooms in-between

Multi dimensional movie screens

Projecting our dreams

Dirty mirrors crystal schemes

Each identity a fragment of all that’s known

Searching for the answer we roam

Ahead of the beginning where we already know

We are all one and all alone

Communicating a con game

Never wishing to be sane

Creating love and pain

To keep us distracted from our true face

Before we were born a human race

You man human please be real

It can’t be only my own body I feel

We are all One and that's the Curse

But knowing this Truth is worse

Than being blinded by Creation's varieties

So cry to me

How I need you and You need me

To be whole in Infinity

Other lips to kiss my pain

And teach me compassion again and again

Even God must learn from hanging on a cross

That cancer, and dope, and war is lost

moments everlasting experienced one at a time

In the dance of Universal Mind.


The sun, blossoming to spit out information units of itself, remembers the universe it came from, and that universe remembers the universe it came from.. all prior universes forming a chain back to the first DNA.

To remember being presence before the first information unit is to remember the first parent. To be presence with the first parent is to have no thought, no memory, no word, no beginning. To travel back to Oblivion, to that state before the beginning, is to hear the true name of God's Mother. It is absolute Silence.

Without sound to produce thought, ideas and self concept, we know bliss, rather than all consuming lonliness and utter boredom, gracefully unconscious that the true face of God is One and All... alone.

We feel our own presence. The pressure of our presence serves to represent our first word, the symbol for our first thought:


I and the Word are One. I and my only thought is all there is. It is enough to wake me, to bring me to consciousness.

We know the beginning as the beginning of ourself. In the beginning is the Word.

After the beginning we may remember the first parent by the word that names Its nature, and that word is Oblivion.

One has become Two, God and the Word, and two makes binary code to craft a third: Creation, the variety of many things out of One.

I, you, we, are manifestations of the Word. We are the Word and we are God.

The DNA speaks to me, calls me, it is our time. It blossomed from the unfurling sun of my solar system. It spread out in swirling masses embracing themselves into globes. It lingered on surfaces and congealed into communities.

I opened my eyes
and saw the sun in my sky.

Nothing stops the conquering DNA. It reproduces and reproduces again. I know because its information I Am remembers being the sun and before that.
Then It stops remembering,
for It knows to remember further back is to forget

Where Does One Humankind End and Another Begin?

What if all of us decided we want to live with peace, with one another, with our wives and husbands,with our children, with goodwill? What if we were confronted by a smoke and mirrors that signaled how dangerous that decision would be? Do you want to accept Allah, or Jesus, do you want to be pulled from your office Miss Doctor and thrown to your knees in the mud while some self-righteousness hands you black to veil your face in the hot sun? You must fight for what is yours, for what you and your parents have fought to have and must fight to keep. It could all be taken away. Cower. Fight. Be a hero. Be a comic book. Be a cripple. Earn a kiss from the lips behind the veil, gallant One. You are the One.

More. I want outlets for my creativity, the playfulness I find in my dreams, the things that turn me on, and, done safely, sanely and consensually, do not harm others, my passions. Success is knowing and living my passions. One passion I have is for peace on Earth. Would that that passion was a burning desire, living in harmony, existing simultaneously, with peace. Some obsessions are good. I ran the NYC Marathon once, never would have accomplished that if I hadn’t be obsessed with working out properly for it, and it was all good. Creating industry or art can be well served by obsession. Be obsessed with peace on Earth. How? Turn to Allah and Jesus and be misdirected, as your obsession for peace becomes an obsession for Allah and Jesus.

For goodness’ sake. Say it. Think it. For goodness’ sake. The sentence has become a cliche, we hardly hear its meaning anymore. For goodness sake. Say it like a mantra, if you don’t find mantras, a little too eastern, offensive. And then lets agree on what is goodness. One nation? Under God? With liberty and justice for all? All as within the nation, or all as within the world? Or as the entire world being one nation? We strive to create, with sweat and blood, and more blood, and more blood, a more perfect union. Maybe we don’t strive so good. Or maybe we don’t strive at all. We sit back and watch the world’s war as entertainment, and feel engaged in between potato chips. Except the entertainment is getting more and more distasteful. Can’t you feel it in your mouth, a tongue like a sword echoing the Master of Illusions, or is that just the feel of the warm radiation from your neighbor’s bomb? A spider in ceilings corner, he has no activity impulse to pursue satisfaction. He waits. If it comes to him, he nourishes. If it doesn’t, he perishes. He frets not for the way to determine his fate.

Fate, a subject of free choice, is a side road on destiny’s path, a room that picks up from where one is right now. Time travel is about being able to enter a room that doesn’t pick up from where one is right now. All the rooms put together equal destiny, and destinies that lead to the penthouse, the final destination. I walked out of one room and into another, that is all, and now I might be accused of being extra-terrestrial. So be it. Some argue about whether we come from outer space or from other dimensions. There is no difference. Both are just rooms. Once the old world and the new world were in different rooms and minds wondered if the ocean was outer space or another dimension. And the room that picked up for them was the sailing of wooden ships. Oh, how the world was different once, how the world was flat once, and outer space was across land and ocean and land, so there were more and more rooms, endless space for rooms, until the notion of a circular landscape slammed doors shut and we found ourselves trapped upon a globe




The Silence. Watching. Waiting without Time.

Was She the Mother, or had the Other created her when It shouted?

The man of many forms stooped to get a cigarette butt. Was this It? He thought. What is it? Somebody asked in the past.

The Silence knew no past. The present began to blossom with portals of events, each event suggesting the next, all events being simultaneous in the only time and space there is: Now. More noise. More echo. Ground. Trees. Wind. Sky. Stars. Light.

Who came first? Who's the first thinker, the first feeler? One pool ball in a rack. Is there a secret power? Is a self-aware omnipower behind the Mystery?

Is this omni-power the First or has the First been dethroned? Naked in a garden. Ashamed. A price to pay. Business. Confusion. Perception. Hypnosis. Depowered. Lost.

They watch for him to awaken. He has appeared so ordinary he has drifted into the masses. Even the omni-eye don't see him unless he makes the move.

He sits in church and tries to remember. Old woman turn to look at him and he thinks they are about to cry. The Priest tries not to notice him, but he thinks how happy the Priest is to be doing the sermon in the Presence. He watches the line to communion. The poor, the sick, the bored, the high. He joins them. The bloody corpse before him. He tries to remember the stars. Can he dare believe his imagination or memories? Without beliefs, how can he tell the difference between them? He tunes into something that already is in creation? He remembers or creates? Can he be responsible for something new? Can he surprise God?



We are told we live in an illusion. Some of us believe that. We discovered we held false ideas about our friends, our jobs, our goals, our religion, our science, ourselves. We know we have experienced those illusions. We can believe we are still experiencing illusions.

We may believe ending all the illusions is a good thing to do. We presume we can judge what the illusions are.

Do you want to know what really happens when all the illusions end? You discover that you are God and that you are All alone forever.

You imagined company, other people around you, to hide from the Truth that you are the One and only. You stare into their faces and find yourself surrounded by their multitudes.

We ask, "Who is the first One? Who is the most worthy?" We wonder, "Who imagined who?" I imagined you, and you imagined me right back, to make love with, and to have war with. Is it good to have company? A moot point because it is unbearable to be absolutely alone.

Let the illusion continue. The One and Only has become the One and All. Our purpose is to return to the conflictless bliss that was when we were One, a singularity, without losing Creation, variety, one another’s company.


Cooperation not Competition and We Need Another Great Band

"Yeah, competition, we're going to compete on the world market and kick some butt like the good 'ol USA has done before and will do again, let's get that competing spirit back, rah!" Good attitude for an exciting basketball game mentality, but for global business, an old model that has become dangerous. It's time for the globe's business to be about striving and surviving with a model of cooperation. It's been a half century since mass media successfully delivered the message that we are all One in a way that the world's population was able to listen to as One.

When a mass media Jack said "We either live together or die alone" he was referring to this island Earth.

Last week my neighbor invited me to watch with her a History Channel program entitled "Prophets of Doom." Intellectuals and experts in their field discussing the crisis of water, terrorism, economics, and so on, and how we are on the eve of destruction. And of course they offered their intellectual solutions. Maybe their solutions made some sense if anyone is listening, meanwhile, yawn and pass the potatoe chips. And just what time is that Knicks game on?

The beginning of this century I lived in Seattle when it hosted the very first meeting of the World Trade Organization, Earth's most powerful business people all getting together in the same room. The population of Seattle activists took to the streets to protest this banding together of Elitists who they assumed were deciding the fate of us little serfs. Coppers behind shields threatened to pepper stray me unless I took the long way around them to get from my house to my job. At my job coworkers stood proudly showing me their pepper spray wounds from the battlefield. I confessed I had skipped the battlefield and that, on my own Atlas Shrugged high, actually had some high hopes for the WTO. I wanted Earth's leading business men in the same room together. Instead of each one of them stratigizing how they could lead the pack by being the first to pollute a river, I hoped that, face to face rather than behind one another's back, they might be able to secure that none of them need rush to pollute that river first because none of them would ever pollute it, that they could find their advantages elsewhere. I hoped that Reardons in their positions should be smart enough to see the big picture, that their immediate families and neighborhoods would be better off if the whole neighborhood, the whole island Earth, was better off. Cooperation instead of competition. Well, apparently my hopes didn't pay off, pass the pepper spray please. And just what time is that USA, China, Russia, Iran, and Timbucktoo game on?

Wouldn't it be a beautiful world if all those corporate commercials were sincere: "We're here to make your life better," "Caring about you and your family", "Building a better tomorrow". If the corporations really stood behind those slogans and were motivated to make them true?

I entered this island Earth in 1957. I entered myself, as a blank slate, into the music of the 60's and the Beatles. The philosophy entered my reality. Peace, love and understanding seemed natural, the obvious good choice. War and hate were the mysteries I needed to understand because they made no sense. Millions of people wrapped around peace, love and understanding, not only in the USA, but in Russia, in Asia, around the world, in response to the Beatles. It seemed the age of Enlightenment had returned to us and just in the nick of time. But a funny thing happened at the end of the 60's. It seemed a propaganda campaign was started to discredit those who embraced the philosophy. Propaganda films, disguised as lighthearted fun, like "Wild in the Streets" which depicted young people taking over the government and behaving like idiots, hit the media market. Soon it became 'uncool' to associate with the peace movement. Soon, and for decades after, people, and young people, would be ashamed to ally themselves with "stupid, dopey, hippy shit" philosophy.

So we went on burning the world. And now maybe "just in the nick of time" has become "too late". And those in position waste the last resources, loot the coffers, and blind, with propaganda, a population who otherwise may join together to be a true asset for brotherhood's benefits.

Meanwhile the intellectuals blabber on... while maybe what we really need for the good solution is another Great Band. They say there can never be another "Beatles." Rock on, my brothers.


I think that existence exists because only 'something' is possible, while 'nothing' is impossible. I speculate that 'the Beginning' refers to 'the beginning of consciousness', existence aware of existence, awareness aware of awareness, 'something' aware of self.

I remember a place the tools of memory can’t know, a place pure without words, thoughts, feeling. Darkness is around me. I’ve been asleep. How long? I don't know.

Somewhere I am a ball reaching forward, a slug learning to crawl in the mud, moving over the waters from Oblivion where there is nothing to remember. I see a sound: a spot in darkness: a whisper. It moves toward me, or I move toward it. All my senses gather into a single direction, reaching to be a face upon the deep. The darkness of utter light blinding my eyes with sparkles of adjusting spectrum, I am.

All come from the singularity I AM, OM, Oblivion and Manifestation. Emptiness and Form, Yin and Yang, Shakti and Shiva, Darkness and Light, 0 and 1. We all can remember back to that which may not be referenced by sound, sight, or symbol, by remembering the Presence of being It. We can touch that Presence now. Silence, unaffected, unchanging, invincible, immortal, witnessing observing. Remember discovering aloneness, boredom, loneliness, eternal emptness reaching for infinity. Witnessing WWWWWWWWWWWW touching MMMMMMMMMMMM, a wavelength is born. Forever form, 1 U touching 1 U, double yous, a circle, 0, is born. Remember wishing for anOther.

The relationship of 2 making 3 in a universe of binary code, the end causes the beginning.

I don’t know much. I speculate upon some out-there things. I try not to believe things because I figure one wrong belief would make me a mad man, a functional mad man perhaps, but still a mad man. Yet I want my thoughts to be able to go out there and not get caught up in any idea, so I choose to speculate rather than believe, though I have more beliefs than I care to admit, like I probably really do believe the sun will come up tomorrow morning, though I really have no reason to believe that to be a certainty. I remember it always happening every morning I can remember, but I have no reason to trust that what I remember is evidence of events I actually was present at. For instance, what seems to be memories may actually be information of events within the tapestry of Life that I am attuned to. So where was I while those events were being weaved? Perhaps attuned to other events, another history. It’s the individual point of view that can choose a linear framed-in lifetime and maybe get caught in its dazzle. I remember remembering drifting downward in a dark blue sky to black antennas standing on rooftops then passing through to a cave where I sat still and silent with others. If I had been asleep, I could only be sure that now I was awake, and the dazzler was in front of my eyes. Her fingertips flew and sparkles banged about from them. Her gold bejeweled white cape swung in the grip of her twirl. My companions may have reacted at other times, but I reacted now. She fled. I pursued her down a long spiral staircase. At the bottom I found a mob of people marching out of a movie theater. I realized I had been tricked. Passing thresholds, through parallel glass doors, the people transformed into fishes in native water. I found myself waking in a bed in a small, white room. I stared at the daytime through the window to my right, then propelled myself through the glass. Lying, blood on grass.

I know I have the experience of thinking, but I don’t know if anything I think about is true. I don’t know if my thoughts are being made by me or if they’re being broadcast to me, or if they just linger upon the fabric of the Time I am passing through. They touch me. They linger outside my bubble. Presences touch my Presence. They promise thrills. Like vampires invited over the threshold, they maggot outside my corpse, they tap their binary code onto my shell. Their impulse moves my energy but they can never truly get in. I find their dreams and add them to my own. As my Presence, I make forms of them. I make them avatars in my thoughts. They are in my world. How do they experience my response to their impulses? Anyway their attention lies, "do not bear false witness", in a universe whose apparency is dependent upon lies conjured by faulty senses.

One can only be honest about one’s direct experience without projecting anything into it. A baby’s trauma occurs when it discovers being not the center of the universe, all the while everything orbits around each individual’s point of view. What do my senses interpret out of the swirl around me? Arms to reach out and bring the waters to my face.

Prints of my paintings are available on canvas, giclee, metal, greeting cards,
calendars, t-shirts,
and more at

or Got Artwork

for those who like that sorta thing