Iliterate Poet

A dumping ground for my works in progress.

29 May 2012

Random Ramblings

1.I heard an art curator say that in order to be successful in art, one has to be appealing to the masses and I nearly fell over. After gathering my calm and intellect, I walked over to the "expert", and simply uttered: "Success is defined by the individual who experiences it", then off I walked to the bus stop feeling somewhat satisfied with my witty riposte ... until I realised I couldn't afford the fare home.

2.I don't just say ironic things, I create maps of wooded areas that lead through a sarcastic discourse, which eventually leads to the heart of the irony, considering of course that your brain doesn't first explode before completing the complex and multidimensional journey.

3.The imposition is that one must participate in the act of creating daily, to be considered as creating or a creator; this is a logical fallacy. When one creates on Monday, that creation lives on until at least tueday night.

4.I used to be a tea-leaf reader, then they brought out instant teabags, so now I search through the murky beige liquid remnants. I find one lone tea leaf particle which must have escaped the group, out of the bag, in order that it pass the message. Having studied this oracle for clues the answer became clear: Stop.

5.You can't blame them, after all, they are faced with so much dross on a daily basis, is it any wonder they don't have time to search for real talent, or the inclination if said talent doesn't come wrapped in its retail box, marked ready for dispatch. To them it's all about the finances and pleasing sponsors; which is part of life. To the said talent though, it is about the exposure, so at some point a compromise should be sought, and of course, in favor of the said talent, lest that talent fade and dwindle under the constraints of a hierarchy bearing down....

6.An organisation requires elements to make up the whole, how can one say and know for sure that a "peaceful" organisation won't have rouge elements hiding in its bowels.

7.Trying to create art without concerning oneself with humanity in a meaningful way is like trying to move all of the snow from the Antarctica to Australia in one wheelbarrow.

8.One would have to admit that at low guard one can find that elitism directed at oneself (especially from an inferior opponent) can be annoying to the point of ignoring this pointless specimen for the rest of their natural; but moreover, elitism feels absofuckinglutly empowering when one retorts with one's own impeccable elitist style wrapped in wit which beguiles the self-proclaimed king of kings or queen of queens. 

9.If you piss in the rain don't expect anyone to notice.
If you piss in the wind and rain expect wet feet
If you piss in a toilet on command, you'll go far.

10.I assure you my humour is a blessing rather than an impediment, even though, often resulting in false accusations of treating talent development with tardiness , for if these hands were tied and I could not laugh at this fact, I would surely turn tardiness into complete withdrawal and any talent that did so lurk in the bowels of me, would dissipate like the energy in a photon hitting a brick wall made of nanospikes. Think chicken and egg! Egg and chicken! Now I'm feeling peckish.

11 May 2012

Found Art

As this morning is such a lovely sunny day I thought I'd take some of my art outside and photograph it for you. As many of you know, I haven't written much poetry lately - if you didn't already know - that's because I've been busy creating art (Digital images and videos, Wood carvings, sculpture, paintings, mixed media and the next thing to tackle is Glass). This is just a small selection from my found art series. I have quite a few new projects on the go too, more ideas than time to produce them all, which is another thing I'm working at changing. Anyway, I hope that you enjoy what you see. 

I should probably do a write up for each piece, but I've only posted these for the people who have asked me what I'm working on - I had intended to wait until I got around to creating my new Artist website before putting any pics up, but it seemed churlish to make you wait.

 I've also added a few poems over the last two weeks for you word hungry folk and I intend to get some more recordings done for you audio-types; Kinesthetic-types will have to visit me in person. 

Jack's Back Talking Crap

Its mind is whack with feet clad in jack
As Subtle as a knife plunged into back
No Cropped moustache and flat cap
Just filled with pride and talking crap
Blaming, flaming lightening brigade

It comes in brown dressed for downtown
As subtle as a brick-smashed-crown
No bolts displayed just policies played
No sceptre raised, discrimination praised
Blaming, flaming lightening brigade

It creeps along if brains are asleep
It plays the songs of insecure fools:
Blame is a culture it's not our fault!
Was the song they sang in revolt
Now sit when we say, dance and halt!
Came the second verse of their assault.

Yellow spawn, golden prawn, mustard primates
Blaming, flaming, lightening brigade.

9 May 2012

To The Lost: The Prize And The Cost

1.Which cause is more than that of peace?
What mighty triumph trumps equilibrium?
To feign it's worth for fighting to cease.

For gold as a tainted love, delivered Abrin.
Noxious clouds fowl in stench released.
From Nature's beauty born, twisted to win.

2.A nobler path to follow in hapless vein.
How much cost a life to live in peace?
Abridged between hopeless and gain.

Remorseless still and sleepless night.
Tearful acid rains on life's every brow;
And even Granite relinquishes it right. 

3.Tis choice alone should decide the sun.
A quart for a quart, an Illusion or taught?
How much cost a life to rest in the run?

A daydream worth owning on dark nights.
A struggle worth more than struggling for. 
Directing in the winds of time's starry lights.

4.A World's weight in gold, to a chrysophilist.
A Fruit-filled plate - full - to a starving child.
How much cost a life to live in peace?

To wit, whichever ransom stole us, our keepers.
Remember well this, our collective lease:
Tis all our brows, laughers and weepers.

5.What other prize can forfeit frightened eyes?
To heal a wound, repair the weary and the blind?
How much cost a life to be rid of these lies?

And just how much cost a life to live in peace?