Demented Confessions 14 – Enigma

Version 2

Veiled whispers are reversed.

 Putti are lobotomized.

 The Tree of Life dries and withers.

 Language crumbles

and

disintegrates.

 

Beware of straight black lines she says

and

listen carefully

to the poetry

of clouds.

 

The sky is smudged charcoal.

Birds fly upside down through falling ash.

Time cracks open

torturing music,

fragmenting silence.

 

A mad man wears The Crown.

Oh don’t you hear

the old gods

laughing?

 

 

Poem and art by clinock.

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

Demented Confessions 8 – ’43’

43

she knew immediately

the symbolism, the references,

the memory, the confession.

 

there are people in my life

who know more about me than I do.

I make my confession to them.

 

 

Art and Poem by Clinock.

’43’. 6″ x 6″ (15.24 x 15.24 cm). Mixed media relief sculpture in cradled panel.

 

 

‘The 100’ # 97 – Dove

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…” the wars they will
be fought again
The holy dove
She will be caught again
bought and sold
and bought again
the dove is never free.”

Leonard Cohen. Anthem

 That which once was clearly read

now manifests in ciphers,

silent, broken and disintegrating.

Whatever the answer was,

in this parchment of peace,

it is gone now, forgotten,

fragmented and lost.

Dove 6

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Words and songs are smudged,

dark wings tear the light,

chaos reigns beneath the ordered surface

and the zero and the I,

tattooed in bar codes

indelibly across our eyes

binds us and blinds us.

Dove detail 2

And our blindness multiplies

with the hate and lies,

the killing, the hurting, the violence

wasting our hearts

to ashes, charcoal, stone,

and all we might become

is lacerated by darkness.

 

Dove detail 4

 But still we inhabit our dream

 as if the unbearable pain

was part of a stranger’s nightmare,

otherwise, we ask

how could we breath?

how could we sleep?

how could we believe in love?

Dove detail 3

So we claim neutrality,

pretend we do not see

the millions of bodies of falling doves

filling the sky like tears,

blood on white feathers

heaping around our feet

freezing us numb in holy snow.

 

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Mixed media collage and poem by clinock.

Thank you Steven @  http://poemimage.wordpress.com for design inspiration.