Mexico – Carnaval, (metamorfosis)

Parade make up SMA

Carnivales

butterfly

us.

we paint our faces

decorate our bodies with coloured music

emerge into ritual

 

we transform our selves

shedding skins we thought were us

casting our masks into fire

 

Carnivales

butterfly

us.

the Old Ones open their arms

welcome us

singing our secret names

 

we prepare our hearts

to dance with the spirits

of the sun

~~~~~~

 

 

Photo and Poem by Clinock

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

just because…

italian manikins

 

 

Photo by Clinock

Redux September 2011 – Night Dance

night-dance-pastel1

 

Haunted, he wears his ghost lightly.

Woven on phantom air

the dream descends like spent ashes.

 

Singing, with pointed sticks

he marks the wing of the lightning,

 as only a father might do.

 

Entangled in ghost tossed clouds

he follows his fractured dreaming

like a mother’s goodbye.

 

Haunted and enchanted,

he summons the cast of the moon,

the wash and cry of the sea.

 

The borders of sleep are burning.

 

 

Poem and pastel drawing by Clinock

Shaman (renovation art 3)

shaman-3

shaman

Shape shifter,

Sometimes winged,

Sometimes four legged.

Woman, man, fish, amoeba,

Bone and card reader,

Weaver of dreams,

Midwife and mortician,

Magician and Fool.

 

Beyond right and wrong,

Always and forever

He is deeply here

At the pulsing center

Of my life,

And I dance his mystery

Into drumming kaleidoscopes

Of wonder.

 

Art and Poem by Clinock.

Sculpture: Shaman, by Clinock. H. 13″ x W. 5″ x D. 5″. Fired and stained clay.

Harvest Moon

Harvest-Moon-Image-Courtesy-of

She spells and conjures me

beyond resistance.

She strings and dances me

through frantic streets,

her hapless marionette,

clacking limbs

and wooden heart.

 

I am played and plucked

with ivory fingers

my strings vibrating

as she paints me

with this lunar grin,

new moon on her back

Cheshire feline fading.

 

It cannot last, this phantom face,

this bright madness.

She has me by the balls

and won’t let go.

She pulls me inside out

and whispers secrets

I don’t want to know.

 

Mistress, muse and madam,

Priestess and lover.

She commands me

and all my gestures.

Such brief moments

of elaborate ecstasy,

endlessly repeated,

is all i ask.

 

moon photo thanks to Google Images / poem by clinock

fāz/Wise Women

Wise Women

 

“And we’ll walk the paths that the old ones walk
And we’ll dance the dances they taught us
And we’ll sing the songs that the old ones sang
For the magick now has caught us.”

 

Wise Women. 18×14″. Acrylic on paper on panel. by clinock.

fāz/Spirit Voices

Spirit Voices

I listened to Paul Simon’s album over and over

as I painted this in the heat of Mexico,

and my brushes danced,

and I danced.

 

Are these images my spirit guides?

Is this how spirit guides are sent?

Is it possible that ‘grace’ can still be?

 

 

Spirit Voices. 18×14″. Acrylic on paper on panel. By clinock.

 

Spirit Voices