Demented Confessions 18 – Caught

Caught 2

 

Fish, mouse, poet,

hooked and guillotined,

snagged and gridded and greened,

caught in the act,

enchanted.

 

From before the beginning

there was no possibility of escape.

I learned to love the pointy end,

confess with blood and colours on my tongue

and be still.

~~~~~~

 

Poem and art by clinock.

Caught. 8″ x 8″ (20 x 20 cm). Mixed media relief in cradled panel.

tête-à-tête (renovation art 5)

Tete a teteTete a tete 2

better eye to eye

than head to head

but better head to head

than back to back

 

this is the dueling stance,

ten paces gentlemen

then turn and kill

and may the best man win

 

how do we measure

‘the best’, and ‘man’

while the ‘not quite so best’

die again and again?

 

Sacrifice is an archaic prayer

of blood, shadows and dark power

but still we feed the endless fires

and the insatiable gods

 

 

Art and Poem by Clinock

Sculpture: tête-à-tête by Clinock. H. 8″ x W. 6″ x D. 8″ (varies). Fired and acrylic stained clay / feathers / screws / beads / painted wood base.

Full Moon in Leo

full_moon_leo

Full moon in Leo,

your red dress ripped,

my arms and legs torn

by brambles,

ciphers of blood

writing our story.

 

Transmitting

another style of day

she floods our veins and

volcanic passages

erupt through forests

where we lie down.

 

Lunatics,

our bodies gone

we chase our breath,

defy gravity,

cross the Great Water

into the mystery.

 

We are lost

with the lost moths,

beating our wings

against reflections

in the window of the mirror

of the sun.

 

 Moon image courtesy of Google Images. / Poem by clinock.

Edited redux.

Autumn Blues.

autumnbluesSummer’s blood

thinned by foghorns

and chilling rain

turns tentative,

injecting veins

with a shivering

stuttering neon.

blues detail1Stretched by wind

skin is tightened

into geometries

of angled cold,

light weakens,

eyes struggle

against sleep.

blues detail2

The season moves

with the languorous

throb and angst

of Tchaikovsky

grinding October blues

through the smoky air

of burning leaves.

blues detail3

blues detail4

Are these the colours

of rusting memories

of a summer gone?

the falling glories

of the wings of trees?

or the ragged motley

of a jester at a wake?

 

painting and poem by clinock (edited redux)

Eggs of Isis

Eggs of Isis 4

Isis

goddess

burning desire

fecund magic flames

igniting life’s passion

as over and over

 she conjures

surrender

wonder

love

we are

her eggs

her fruitful

full ripe bodies

 fertile  gardens of longing

surfaces penetrating sighing depths

parting hidden veils of loving

 exploring moist heat

soft caverns of fire

exiting

entering

closing

 opening

 opening more

 inviting us to dance

this waltz of birth and death and love

again and again and again

in blood and tears

and laughter

our shells

slowly

dissolving

into

rounded arcs

of light

 

acrylic mixed media painting and poem by clinock.