It must have happened to all of you at least once. You are looking at the trash bin, a switch or a wall plug and suddenly see a face. You tell someone about it, think it’s interesting for a while and then move on. Well, not this guy.
Keith Larsen sees faces in things all the time, but he decided to embrace them. He creates characters out of those faces, draws them and even writes a poem for each character. The final outcome is really interesting. You can check out some of his works below.
Can we talk about the elephant in the room?
Or just about anything your mind consumes.
There to help when you need the support
No matter the baggage, no need to abort.
Hooked on assistance, nothings irrelevant
You will always have help, including this happy hook elephant.
Please dispose of your gum and butts.
Keeping the streets clean, this is a must.
All this cigarette smoke, causing me to choke.
Scuba gear for protection, it’s my eyes you poke.
Don’t turn London’s streets into a sea of rubbish
I’m Cecil the Scuba bin, you can find me in public.
I’m Ellie D, the amphibious illuminator.
The frog that toggles on during a power failure.
I’m not green like Kermit, and I don’t tell jokes
But, keep me in mind next time the electric croaks.
I’m tired of cleaning up after you.
Whether it’s a mess you created, or something destroyed.
My face is the solution, and I’m relatively annoyed.
Sitting in the corner, like I don’t even matter.
Until your klutzy self, makes a messy splatter.
I have no more energy, I’m much too wiped
But, I really mustache you, who created the quantum theory of light?
I’m a dandy dapper dampener.
Fires tickle my fancy, those are no match for me.
Remove my monocle you must, for the water to flee.
When it comes to parking, I know I’m a nuisance
But when your dog pees, I’m somehow translucent.
I’m a damn dampened hydrant.
Ting tang walla walla bing bang.
I’m a rusted rake, a trusted fake.
Hiding behind my mask as you take the medicine I make.
I collect all that is natural, dried leaves and all.
Homeopathy is the term, if I recall.
My tines are feathers, oxidized from the weather.
Come to me, the witch doctor, so you can feel healthy and better.
You’re in the bathroom at the urinal urine spilling. A sloth in transit with its oxygen filling. Arms resting in place, smile on its face, slowly but surely, it’s no race. Happy you’re there, the sloth happily stares. As you finish and flush, to the cosmos, no rush.
Grab my beak if it’s laundry you seek. You barely see me, maybe once a week. How can I not have this disappointed look? I dry your clothes as you read a book. I’m dryer duck, and for a buck, I dry the shirts you tuck. Handle my bill if you will, tweak left for your garments. I’ll see you next week, but please, no more vomit.
But I’m just like you, I talk and listen
My inner’s calm, yet I’m lookin’ crazy
Push my teef when you’re feelin’ lazy.
Did you hear the news? Pull down my ears is how I’m used.
Newspapers are what I dispense.
Be up to date with your current events.
Look at new gizmos and gadgets, clothes and jackets.
Just about anything worth to mention.
You can call me Yorker, your yellow news dispensing gremlin.