acts of art 13 -Marina Abramovic

 

 

for all who have loved deeply

for all who have said goodbye

because there was no other way

for the grace and courage of those

who can look into anothers eyes

feel the pain and loneliness

tearing the heart

and not turn away

 

I couldn’t decide which to use. Both bring tears every time I watch. Both evoke emotions I have no name for.

 

Anthem for a new year

 

IMG_2904_2_2

“Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in…”

 

From this heart to all of yours…may your New Year be filled with love, creativity and magic…we build the doors and then we pass through them…

“every heart, every heart / to love will come / but like a refugee…”

“For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne.
We’ll drink a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.”

Photo by clinock

P.S. My new year’s resolution is to remain cheerfully cooperative with the primal flux.

 

 

One Time

one time 2

 

it was just one time

running from was running to

and the whole world changed

 

it was only once

twilight of an isolated

and then it was night

 

it was just one time

two beaten souls smudged by love

and separation

 

it was only once

but that’s all it took to fly

and the whole world changed

~~~~~~

 

art and haiku by Clinock.

art: mixed media on panel. 10 x 8 inch. 25 x 20 cm.

 

October 2013 – Ghosts Pass By

ghosts_3

Ghosts pass by.

Abandoning armchairs,

stubbing out cigars,

quaffing the final drop

of vintage port

they float away,

down the back stairs,

checking their auras

in the cracked mirror

as they go.

 

Ghosts pass by.

Evicted from rooms

of haunted sleep,

they pass on, like wind,

like a Fellini parade,

a dust blown cavalcade

of ragged motley

seeking another home,

another creaking attic,

another empty shell.

 

Ghosts pass by.

Swathed in scars and chains,

autumn leaves and broken hearts

they pass the open window

of my glorious night.

Weeping phantoms,

restless souls and spirits,

their gaze is losing me

and I watch their sad ambling

with eyes of dawn.

 

Ghosts pass by

in feather boas, painted rags,

stained armor and cloaks of stars;

a susurration of shadows

shimmering with enchantment;

tears and whispers in the night.

Ghosts pass by, darkly inviting

but I turn and touch the sun,

and am exorcised again

in pulsing light.

~~~

 

Acrylic painting and poem by Clinock

Edited redux from October 2013

 

the Wonder, the Love, the Tears

 

To do the useful thing,

to say the courageous thing,

to contemplate the beautiful thing,

that is enough for one man’s life.

Sept 2014 – Ghosts – Joan of Arc

joan of arc

 

Seeking sanctuary from the burn

I trespass her ice and holy dance

and am caught, unmasked,

between flaming carapace and tundric flesh.

 

She rises with a purer love

in fiery blizzards I cannot name,

consuming me in smoldering tears

by which I navigate her bright beauty.

 

There are red mysteries in her conflagration

binding me with smoking tongues,

releasing me in blinding light,

fusing me forever to this silent ghost of ash and passion.

 

Painting and Poem by Clinock