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Then There's Art

Wed, 07 Dec 2011 13:25:13 -0500

The world surrounding is scholastic
Interested in arithmetic, fiddling with discovered science
Expressing the expanding universe, its novae and nebulae
And then there’s Art

Halls are draped in ivy and pomp
As these halls drip in Pollack and paint
And a cool sense of disparage or distance
Keeps the artist caged in self-wrought iron

Freely they break out, into the tangible
When it suits to blend or rewards to reunite
Though it’s mostly a recharging of creativity
As he parsimoniously puffs on his filtered fate

There is an effort being made
To be different of dress or style or wit
As if recognition is born of obscurity and eccentricity
As if this is Art defined

We live to track, clock, organize
Scratching out, crossing out, checking off
Our world is boxed, packaged, and standardized
And then there’s Art

King of Pride

Mon, 05 Dec 2011 13:17:41 -0500

He is stately, for he must be-
The golden cub who has come to kingship
Who has fought with claw and ivory
On the backs of his muscled harem

For this is His Empire!
Of sand and Sun and the sweet desert rose
Built on granite and pride! Bones and dust
As well as the hungry, herding masses- his subjects

The jungle is His! The hissing, buzzing, sweating jungle
The growth above, below, and the souls within it
It is His majesty, His amber eyes surveying
All the Sun touches falls under His guiding paws

And cardinal sin is His, and with His family-
Pride is His, Pride is theirs, as it has always been
Survival is for the most Proud!
And the King stands tall on his high rock, reeking of it

To "B"

Tue, 11 Oct 2011 14:52:40 -0400

When backwards engineering
Beckons the age of free-enterprise
And bolsters the bastion of business-
One must barricade the benign
From a bevy of barbaric intervention

Yet the primal soul belies brief submission-
That of the bucking bronco, or golden, blazoned bull
The bristle-backed boar, all tusk and boring snout
The brick-a-brack of the bleating Billy-goat
Or the bitter, bickering badger, unmoving
As the noble bear- that silent behemoth
Beholds the barren wasteland of his youth
And is betrothed to the burned topsoil

But here and now, at the brink of the briny sea
Bubbles a bellowing swell
That bashes against and binds itself
To the old bridge’s ball-bearings
And brings down the last benevolent benefactors-
Who will board the bombast
Of bold new beginnings

A Stranger

Mon, 25 Jul 2011 17:18:46 -0400

You were a different soul-
A tortured youth, a gluttoned prince
The shaman, feathered and dancing
All sinew and ivory and pungent spice
A ricocheted bullet, on the wrong culture course

You were innocent and dangerous
A poet and a vagrant, homeless and sheltered
Brilliant in calculated naivety-
Doe-eyed and sharp-tongued, and wholly spectral-
For the rest of us, a lizard king

A demon who danced on color-wheel wings
Whose spiny back turned smooth for attention
Waterfalls in the desert birthed the oasis
And the wellspring of counter-cultured enlightenment-
The Indian sheds a single tear standing naked there, soldier

You are dead and ever-living, in a world of dream
Of wavering stacks of sounds and thoughts
Each counter-point, oddly constructed
Each voice a makeshift improvisation, routed in absent-mind
We’ll never know why you left us.

I see only the night

Mon, 25 Jul 2011 01:26:38 -0400

I see only the night
And the darker things hidden from my sight
The shrouded wrongs torn away from what’s right
I see only the night

I see above, the moon and stars
Beyond her timeless face on earthen jars
And further still, from my bed to Mars
I see above, the moon and stars

I smell the damp of morning dew
When spirits wait “Come hither to”
Where Avalon mists embrace you
I smell the damp of morning dew

I feel her touch, but she is dark
A sleeping mass, off-white and stark
She’s left unseen on my heart, a mark
I feel her touch, but she is dark

I see only the night
Who sets the Sun in his endless plight
The bane of loved ones who walk in the light
I see only the night

My Attempt at R.W. Emerson (unfinished)

Mon, 25 Jul 2011 01:20:24 -0400

For I am a son of the West
Whose fertile fathers fought for freedom
And gave to this land only their best
To suffer never again for a Kingdom

O, a pioneer’s son am I
Whose mothers slept under a wide azure sky
Who washed and sewed and built mud-brick houses
And swaddled their young in their blood-stained blouses

Yes, Fightin’ Jim and Jumping Jack were my kin
The men we know now were not heroes then
But simple servants that knew greater good
Who gave all for country, then more if they could

The One in Yellow

Mon, 25 Jul 2011 01:14:10 -0400

The way she walked, through humid parkway
To the barren threshold of higher thought
As I sit here calm, in conditioned air
Staring at her sun kissed face through a wall of glass

A tunic of over-washed yellow
A goldenrod hue, as it hung loosely on her caramel skin
She wore shorts-too short- of a faded denim
That cried for summer past, and gave up bronzed thighs

I only wonder at her motives-
I can only guess her name, lost in far off eyes
That my decrepit vision sees as blurred hazel-
But she is beautiful, if only surface matters.

On the other side of this granite fortress
The sun shines and hides, then peaks and leaves
The air is hot, and sticks to those who wade
But none of them matter. I am drawn to the one in yellow.

The Agent

Mon, 25 Jul 2011 00:52:23 -0400

I am within, an hypocrisy
And without, I am saboteur
Tasked with ruinous intent
To demolish or determine duality
And strike the greatest fear in men

It is in an element I have trained
One unnatural, degraded, transplanted-
A native son gone wild in obscurity-
Who is an imposter in a strange land
Fighting for queen and country

I will nod and shake and kiss and smile
And parrot functions of commonality
Master and manipulate an ideal tongue
To intrigue and deceive and undermine
All the while on the cusp of demolition

There will be no trace of my transactions
No hints, no slips, no conjured inconsistencies
My path is swept by ghost-white lies
And I have gathered all I need by you
Who has fallen for charisma’s child