Which do you prefer? England or America?
To which I respond:
It's like asking to compare a circle to a square.
Both are shapes I have taken
and call Home.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Taking Off
Sky line aglow like a
fresh laceration
smooth smudge
the complete spectrum
perfect shades
take off into...
the scope twinkles
below
vast insignificance
of a man made universe
roads are serpents trails in motion
disappear with me
into immensity
fresh laceration
smooth smudge
the complete spectrum
perfect shades
take off into...
the scope twinkles
below
vast insignificance
of a man made universe
roads are serpents trails in motion
disappear with me
into immensity
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Whiskey a go go
Human Divinity
The Blossom
Pure Beauty
I saw the cool moon rise
and like the archer
he freed you from his bow
shot thru skin fuelled mornings
past street lights
palpitate curbs & concrete veins
you drank wine with
Dionysus
exhaled smoky chains
i watched those glazed eyes ignite
thru the satin haze
the discursive maze
within an urban midnight hour
and her cackle echoed
until it seemed to lift the night
to welcome the swelling sun
and her eternal golden rays
The Blossom
Pure Beauty
I saw the cool moon rise
and like the archer
he freed you from his bow
shot thru skin fuelled mornings
past street lights
palpitate curbs & concrete veins
you drank wine with
Dionysus
exhaled smoky chains
i watched those glazed eyes ignite
thru the satin haze
the discursive maze
within an urban midnight hour
and her cackle echoed
until it seemed to lift the night
to welcome the swelling sun
and her eternal golden rays
Friday, December 4, 2009
Portrait Of A Man
how many lovers in your head out
of your bed dreams
forgot or left unsaid
lost to being
rely on the gut
for seeing
thought fled to sail purple sea
expose that beating heart!
fleeting with flairs
soul to
sole
making our morals as we go
to
unknown places
with
unknown purposes
and
colour ourselves
perfect.
of your bed dreams
forgot or left unsaid
lost to being
rely on the gut
for seeing
thought fled to sail purple sea
expose that beating heart!
fleeting with flairs
soul to
sole
making our morals as we go
to
unknown places
with
unknown purposes
and
colour ourselves
perfect.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
For My Muse
I bled thru the days so I
could FEEL its colour
in the threadbare twilight
as the moon swells
sit and sift bruised as the dawn
Let the mind go up in smoke
send it up to the stars
where the fog can’t reach…
…memories make Fairytales
Hold you like the sky holds the sun
in cherry mind blossom
Make my head flower
could FEEL its colour
in the threadbare twilight
as the moon swells
sit and sift bruised as the dawn
Let the mind go up in smoke
send it up to the stars
where the fog can’t reach…
…memories make Fairytales
Hold you like the sky holds the sun
in cherry mind blossom
Make my head flower
word art thoughts
I woke at 7am, cracked open an eye to meet the light of rosebud dawn dragging color across the sky. My sheets nested round my face as though peeking out of an egg. I note the beauty and slip amniotic, back to sleep.
I read about the Arctic Ocean rising acidity levels online on the Guardian.co.uk, my favorite source. I like to look at the geographical photos. Get my fix of nature through a screen. I also like New Scientist, photos of exploding stars, black holes and multi dimensions. I wonder how I can make art out of it, what poetry? collecting images to print can be like piecing a puzzle as is writing a poem. Recalling people or place, perceptions and memories all like mosaics, and so are people. Like Russian dolls, cells within cells. And people are like the cells of the earth.
I wonder how what message I want to send? What voice does the artist have? Comment on? All reflective in a world of mirrors, eyes dart from the core and all is ever-present, connected on our own orbits, on our Message Movement.
I read about the Arctic Ocean rising acidity levels online on the Guardian.co.uk, my favorite source. I like to look at the geographical photos. Get my fix of nature through a screen. I also like New Scientist, photos of exploding stars, black holes and multi dimensions. I wonder how I can make art out of it, what poetry? collecting images to print can be like piecing a puzzle as is writing a poem. Recalling people or place, perceptions and memories all like mosaics, and so are people. Like Russian dolls, cells within cells. And people are like the cells of the earth.
I wonder how what message I want to send? What voice does the artist have? Comment on? All reflective in a world of mirrors, eyes dart from the core and all is ever-present, connected on our own orbits, on our Message Movement.
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