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The FiferWhat cheerful tune rose through your head, Édouard,
as your brush and paint knives marched with military precision
up and down the rough terrain of the canvas-fields?
What hypnotic movement of dancing fingers compelled you
to cadence color with bold marshaling strokes,
setting them en route to picturesque victory?
Whatever this music was is lost to the ears,
and the young guardsman has now marched past with imperial discipline
alongside the rest of his company, out of hearing range.
The mental orchestra stops, and in its stead
the hubbub of street chitchat falls back into place.
Luckily for you, your sketchbook has managed to trace the score.
You return to your studio with eyes raised high,
ready to set to work.
The commander does not complain when you ask for one of his boys
to pose in front of the canvas with his edgeless, fireless weapon poised,
raised to his lips at the ready.
Even though his instrument is far removed from a musket,
you tremble at its sound rising to meet you
PosthistoryIt is finished!
The capstone is set
with the delicate handiwork of a Polish-Russian
displaying his mastery over color and technique.
Philistines accuse him of depicting
black people loading coal at night,
ignoring the craft in his brushstrokes,
blind before the bare icon
of the end of history
sigh under this dictatorial supremacy,
the absolute apex and total terminus
of all high-minded philosophies.
Wounded, they go back
to their comfort foods and drinks,
reusing the simple
and not hoping to speak enlightened messages
How will they restart
find a replacement
for the rest of art,
when one act declares all others obsolete?
But they must restart--
for the sake of the times we find ourselves in,
and for everything else
[Insert MasterCard joke here]
AdventThe disk had slipped,
pulling your life down close to the ground
threatening to bury it
underneath the yellow brown, or at least
up to your neck
consigning the rest to entropy.
You spoke to them
before it dragged your consciousness under,
the paramedics complied--
buying you reprieve from having to live
in a prison
made of limp, senseless flesh.
The doctors braced you
in a cage of fixed steel; under their knives
they made you whole--
a mundane miracle at Christmas, a rebirth
from a womb
made of sanitized metal frames and screws.
Your descent from that roof
had marked your ascendancy, your mind renewed
recovering from your fall
you walk taller
even with the nails they put in your neck.
Liberty Island GreetingBehold our modern Liberty Island greeting:
A Starbucks cup for her torch,
A medallion around her neck,
A GAP sign in her arm.
Theres a gap in our thinking:
God bless Armani, brand that I love?
Its all good fun and games
But there has to be an end.
Take Justices blind blade to her flesh.
Drain the Black Blood corroding her arteries
And giving thirst to her heart.
Cut open her crown so the world can see her blurred dreams.
Lead her to Boston, Philadelphia, and Monticello,
Awaken our Fathers to their legacy
The Innocent Virgin wronged.
Let the faces on Mount Rushmore cringe in pain
And the Bell of Liberty split asunder;
America awakes to her Nightmare.
United we stood,
Destiny we manifested,
Freedom we defended.
Are we getting along?
Are we at our Promised Land?
Are we free at all?
We once took it easy and journeyed forth
But our energy had limits
Our head grew heavy and our sights dimmed
We stopped our journey
We forgot we couldnt buy a stairway
A little white pill.
Eat without food,
Your stomach stabs you
Like a screaming devil;
A painting about a woman on her monthly business
Floating in my head.
Stream of unconsciousness, solidified stupefaction,
Undiluted urging under of awareness,
Eyes swimming in tropical seas,
Queen Mab on heroin riding down on me
Bringing dreams of warmth
Like spring sunshine
Or thick winter parkas.
Words surface from my mental ocean
And breathe again, to move the once-idle hand
In industrious endeavor.
Fur and down caressing the skin,
My eyes submerge in darkness.
Driftwoods and TumbleweedsMy eyes have visited the greenest of hills
Where dragonflies skip in the dry air,
And the heat chokes out all save the most
Determined thoughts from the mind,
The most smog-covered of skies
Where fellow man seemed closer
Despite its decided foreignness to a man such as myself,
Who drifts everywhere and nowhere in the same breath,
With only suitcases and air-pressure-tormented ears
To mark my passage
Driftwood in all but name, with pretty words and wings
Instead of ocean currents and natural buoyancy.
It is beyond choice to wander.
My heart was buried in upstate sands,
That sacred plot where the lake numbs rather than bites
Under an orange sunshine,
And the sundown invites fireflies to the trees
To sing songs to the dissipating heat
And blink until you're lulled to sleep.
Quiet forgetfulness forgives all wrongs there,
Every wound mended and healed with no scars
In the calls of cicadas in daytime,
The hoof-fall of deer at night.
In that most secret place where flowers never die
The Suicide, or on EliotWe fear what we do not know.
I dreamed a vision where my flesh unwound itself
From sinew, where my legs collapsed
After supersonic death passed, and my intellect
Leaked out in streams from cracked cranium.
One measure of burned smoke soaked my soul
Better than ninety-seven ounces of ether ever could.
There are only personal apocalypses.
No motion pictures present the notion of darkness
With any accuracy.
For me no more the obstinacy of no regret--
Black can absorb any color;
No more the tenacity of living with no water
While disembodied voices tell me of ancient history.
(Aeschylus's epitaph does not fit my life
Of all pen and no spears; just stilettos
Stabbing through meager armor.)
This brain is not dry anymore.
No motion pictures present the notion of darkness
With any accuracy.
A box closes softly loud
Where Gerontion lies still.
The box is a size too big
For a small stature to fill.
The coffin portrait shows him in his prime,
Esoteric MysteryI saw him on a rainy day, him with sunglasses
Despite the overhanging darkness and smiling without a grin.
Droplets streamed down soul-concealing Ray-Ban lenses
Perched on the pale ridge of his nose. The raincoat
Hid the rest of him like an opaque shield.
Whispered mysteries chilled my neck,
Tapped my eardrums in strange silence.
I pause for eternity and walk away
As worlds end and begin again.
Just a second passes between Apocalypse and Genesis.
I thought I could see beyond them
Into colorless vibrant eyes.
Restaurant Restroom RhapsodyI-- I'm sorry.
I didn't mean to run away,
Turn you aside or leave you in the cold.
My thoughts were scrambled too fast
For me to react calmly,
Take it all in stride
And just nod as the truth came.
The rhythm of my thoughts
Just fell apart; the wineglass I was holding
Would have too, were it not for the inside of my head
Holding a vague idea
Of what was coming.
The main course must have arrived by now;
But I don't feel hungry, even though I know
The lasagna here
Leaves little room for words
How could I have not known who--
The signs were obvious, looking back.
My loins let me believe whatever I wanted to believe,
Blanking out intuition,
The cold faucet water
Helps me keep my thoughts straight, and prevent
Waves of panic from capsizing me.
How I wish it was vodka instead,
So I could drink
Don't look at me like that. Makes me edgy
When someone makes me feel in the wrong,
When you let me know I'm the one at fault.
I wish I could blame
LautrekToulouse-Lautrec without the cane
with good legs raging through the whores
and Parisian stores
free at last
to do his will
and be fulfilled
He will never paint again
No Other WayYou were never here to see me
but petrified decay floating
on waters of a life not seen enough days.
A life within a life, I believe will soon end.
It is not good enough to want to love.
You are not a far cry from your mothers nest
and it is not good enough to want to be sorry.
In the life of the lovers doomed to fail,
I see no other way out but to hate
but in the life of lovers scared of pain,
I see no other way.
They say you can't go home again.
But you can
you can visit that place where once you lived the real life
the best life
But your mind thinks newer thoughts
your heart beats to later music
Your love took the last plane south
to the ultimate polar archive
deep and deeper beneath the ice
Known only now as electrons moving in finest uncertainty
symbols of what once was
That sweet light gone dark
I did not go back for this
I do not want to know one last thought of this
I will never go back again
I always say this
and yet I always try it one more time
Rushmore ReduxI had wanted to help with Ziolkowski's art
I had wanted to honor Crazy Horse
They only wanted dynamite experts
And heavy equipment operators
His maquette points to the Black Hills
An impolite usage of an index finger
Crazy Horse cannot protest,
But his great grand children can
Standing Bear went off the reservation
No council meetings or powwow
A surprise attack on the Black Hills
Rushmore redux of a Red Man
Custer's corpse with pierced ear drums
Still doesn't hear
Andrew Myrick said "Let them eat grass!"
His dead mouth stuffed with it
The crime, on going
American natives still feel steel
Conquistadores shed their armor for
Business suits, but the gold remains
Where are the straight tongues?
Treaties and smallpox blankets
White men are very good at marketing
The Great Spirit knows this
Creep too DeepNot a sound,
Makes me move
In a rush,
Creepy as this may be,
Something is after me,
Quite as a mouse it runs
This disaster story
As just begun
The shadows of the night
To just hold so dear
My fear is overwhelming
And my heart is beating fast
Which breathe will be my last
I know you are there
I sit and stare
As I know tonight
Is the night
You were really there.
another soggy day
looking out the window at the sunshine
brilliant streets and happy lawns
fresh breeze and cheerful trees
I've seen the radar though
I know what's coming
hours of leaky roof
invisible tears until too late
drowning in water stains
not even whiskey and video will stop the rain
measure for measuremeasure for measure
...and the divine being measured itself
with instruments far smaller than its full being
their markings all irregular within themselves
and each device appearing different from all others
truth is found only beneath the skin
by feeling the Entire
I thought I'd hear the roar of water falling at the end of the world
but that was a childish dream given me by grown-ups
Now, as I approach the world's edge
as I leave the great river for just a moment
beaching on the shore to look ahead
I hear nothing
I paddle back into the river
content that it just stops
Lancelot Price 2012
Blue RoseBlue Rose of Illium,
entwine me with your thorns,
for the scars you leave on my skin
give more honor than battle-wounds.
Let my hands carry you
from the shadows of steel towers
into the hot sunshine,
so your petals may grow deep in color,
your leaves and stems more supple,
your roots firmly gripping the earth
where love plants you.
Blue Rose of Illium,
may I die with your name on my lips,
and fall close to where you stand
so my blood may enrich your soil,
and my bones wall you
against any who would uproot you
without knowing your true worth.
Keep in Touch!
^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More