Presented with love and gratitude. Poem “Ascension/Bring me higher” was written by me. Big ups to my homey, the 9th century poet, Cynewulf. My poem is inspired by his awesome work, Christ II. Images are from Tokyo Fashion Edge Magazine Volume 35, September 2019, with an overlay of handwritten runic and English scripts in watercolour. Have a healing week ahead.
Dominae Sol serenat omnia
Based on Mediaeval Latin verses in the Codex Buranus. Below, you will see the English translation.
The Sun is my Empress, She shines over everything
I was tempted to put the full text here. However, I remembered that Chrome’s translation software would chew it up. I hope the two images render without any issues. If there are any, let me know. The raw text is available, so please contact me if you would like to have it.
Image: Postcard I received recently of Anna Ishii’s 2019 work, “Charming and mesmerising” – 193 cm x 193 cm oil on canvas.
Go out in the morning,
into the tabernacles and the courts.
Blessed are the souls that receive you;
they will be comforted.
Do not faint from toil; find rest
in mine house. Sleep, and see
a mystery in the early moments,
before the trumpets will sound.
Continue to the city, touching
all who praise thee for thy works.
Blessed are the faithful that rejoice
in thy labour; they will obtain
gladness even until the latter rain.
I will not age
nor show how frail I am,
nor let the flower of my glory fall away.
Yea, I will bless them that sow in joy
and wait to taste the bounteous supper.
Mine riches shall I heap upon their heads.
Therefore, feel not disquiet,
but hope. Walk in righteousness,
and be worthy. Weep not for days,
but return to me. And measure not
my devotion in a handsbreadth;
surely, it will endure
Thank you, everyone, for your encouraging words on my last post. This poem is based on Johannes Brahms’ Ein Deutsches Requiem (A German Requiem). English text: King James Bible. Original image: Nghia Do Thanh. Musical inspiration: Junkie XL’s Brothers in arms.
One is a crowd.
My addiction of choice is your past.
Its powerful spell makes me anxious,
creates a tension that is so deep.
You are cocky and terrific. Grinding
right there is the hardest thing in the world.
But your stuff was beautiful and
the consummation was
a thing of enchantment.
I genuflect under control.
The second half makes me want to get
squelched so fast into several pews.
The three-part thing was so spontaneous.
You are a pretty raw wonder. You did
something really special with your stick.
Took a minute for it to sink in.
Just love to picture it.
How beautiful to know
it all works inside me.
Truthfully, strong man, morality
is all stupidity and foolishness.
I think I’m pouting, yet taking it
painfully is humbling.
The comments remind me of a time when humans had a sense of humour and understood sarcasm. Originally published May 25, 2015. Image by Diana Vartanova via Unsplash.
P.S. Still unable to see any notifications for this post five hours after posting. Please leave a comment so I can holler at you.
Cheer me on, Oblivia
as I wind up from the knees
to rend from Earth this nemesis
of everlasting peace
Aiming at the nose bridge
of the Grand Chaos Machine
bracing with the groundswell
fully charged, I launch again
Swing that arm around now
Come on David, let her fly
Holding up your left hand
as a shield against the sky
watch that middle finger
you must use it as a guide
Clean your stones; less friction
Count, release and it is done
Lead, my faithful vanguard
Gather, kindred, go that way
On your trusting footprints
shines the mighty light of day
Come on, children, walk this way…
Note: I wrote this poem at the end of March and hid it, thinking I would never need to publish it. Clearly, I was kidding myself. Tammy, and Jeanne, this poem might be all I can do. Photo credit: Archangel Michael defeats the Evil One, St Michaelis Church Tombamasta, Hamburg, Germany; image via Pinterest.
These photographs were taken on Thursday and Friday (May 19/20), in a small port town, where I attended an art conference. May is the month in which I return home to do laundry and repack my luggage. I hope it’s been a good month for you.
Notes had been sent asking after my whereabouts. I hadn’t indulged in my favoured Earl Grey, tiramisu and panna cotta combo for months. This is my day off, so I presented myself at my friends’ patisserie just after 11.00 (dessert before breakfast, people) and got to work. Eating, that is.
As for play time, this is what I got up to. Special thanks go to Egbert Starr for permission to work on this composition using excerpts from his brilliant prose poem, The Gallows’ Horse. Please visit his blog to read the full version.
Featured magazine – Numéro, Tokyo, April, 2016. Vol 95: Perfume ads; “Dark Romanticism” and “Pretty Killer” editorials by Ellen Von Unwerth with art direction by Yuni Yoshida.
Prose poetry excerpted from “The Gallows’ Horse” by Egbert Starr.
I said to the wise man I met, “Love.” And I said to the crone the same. To children, I said to them, “Love one another.” To kings, philosophers, chemists, scientists of every kind, my message was exactly so.
I remembered from the land above the flower of my treachery. I remembered my rage and anger and my fulsome seductions of a thousand Persephones. How pleased I was! How capable! How incisive and cross-quotable my demonic possibilities. I was in the world of common men without compare!
Epic prose poetry, and it tasted fantastic. My friends and I chatted while I worked, so they were my guest editors. Thank you for reading, too. Enjoy a sip of all right until we meet again. SB
Gouache on wood panel (wet/processed photo)
Ad septentrio video
haec ceram caelum clara
supra mare stella Martis
To the North and I hail
in full this wax horizon
a Martian sea*
(Original; starting point of a colour study)
Meaning: Dust yourself off and try again. Notes: I didn’t realise until Thursday afternoon that the painting resembles the horizon as seen from Victoria Crater, Mars. *As you know, Mars is dry; however, 19th century areographers used “sea”, “lake” and “ocean” while mapping the planet. Thank you so much for viewing.
Winter ices fire
in this midnight garden
where you left
me waiting in the haze
of a bucolic frost
It etches crystals
and invades my brea-
But it seems …
Winter’s glance is bare
She whispers every-
twisters in this maze
With promises sublime
she sends my sighs
on down the wire
and I hope they’ll
Frost | SB
Photo: My index finger on a frosted car window one very cold morning in January.
The actuary’s gaunt face presented harshly against the hush of apprehension that gripped the room. The Empress veiled herself with a blank expression. When no one was looking, she released a slow eye roll.
Etiquette dictated that she not show scorn or deference. Today was particularly challenging. On the eve of expansion, the actuary stopped to raise a challenge. He had discovered two spots on a six inch map. The surveyors looked confused. But they quietly agreed that this was a democracy, and let him have his say.
Trailing off the table were yards of hemp scroll. Empress Tikki wanted to wrap it around his neck. “One more passage and then we’re whole, one last signing is the end I’m told…”
Shadowed by nervous ministers, the actuary started clearing his throat. The metallic timbre induced, in the Empress, a maddening primal scream. “Be impermanent in this please, do not drag it out another note…”
♫ Gffmh-gmffh gffmh-gmffmh gffmh-gmffh fhmm
hmmfh fmmgh fhmm hmmfh gffmh-hhhmm ♫
“Pray the deities, restore my soul,” muttered the Empress, “we are held hostage by a mating goat.” She flashed a smile to restore decorum. The actuary had until sunrise to interrogate the two moth stains.
Empress Tikki | SB
Where blended charcoal
and zealous labour horizons hold
up silent towers tall and bright
we rise, undaunted,
through the night
Flight | SB
She pumps the pain
All access hurt
A short seduction
Four nights of mirth
One drunk admission
more blues champagne
his tears are flowing
Allure’s a vision
in love at midnight
aboard a train
That window’s frosted
and winter thrills
to watch them burning
from fiery sills
Love days are over
those times they were
like crescent shadows
where moon deceives
When tears were falling
with autumn leaves
she caught the dew drops
on silken sleeves
She pumps the pain…
+(❆ڼ❆)~ ∗♞͂ ∗ ♞͂ ∗ ✩ ⃛
Access/Allure | SB
Monica Bellucci and Daniel Craig in SPECTRE
courtesy H&K/JME Photo via Telegraph UK
I comfort all souls
in the palm of my hand
so more life will flow
from our primitive band
Fifty thousand passengers
all pearls in a clam
Forty thousand citizens
slow rhythm, love jam
mix beats on this shore
They’re dancing and laughing
and pass plenty more
embracing the night
as prism’s jet hue
then pull straight ahead
and march in this queue
For one drop in an ocean
(That’s when I am with you)
I’ll rise up and greet
this carnal deluge
Photo credit and special thanks: Butterfly by Aria Appleford.
In moments of serenity
Habitués, as I recall,
recline in vintage lounges
and sup their timeless treks
The gold flecks in your eyes
define my sacred pledge
Just promise …
you’ll love me if
we ever meet again
We’re moments from serenity
so join me, let us fight
for Love, for real,
uncloaks the darkest knight
Through moon drops let her beam
down rays of silver suns
until our rock’s serene
until all hearts
( ◜◒◝ )♡ ♡〜
Photo credit: Léa Seydoux in Spectre via Standard UK