The Jester’s Jester

the jester and her jester

 

Why are we not all born with a jester attached?

To be with us until we die. To keep us awake.

To remind us of the truth.

To fill mortality with laughter and the jingle of bells?

 

If the jester listens to her jester as the brain listens to the heart

She may eventually find peace amongst the flow and thrust

of our twisted ribbons.

Are we finally saved then, can I relax now

or did i get it wrong again?

 

It was only yesterday was it not

that the ferryman winked at me?

And although the days are losing definition

I’m certain it was the same day

you made a necklace out of acorns

and hung it around my neck, laughing.

 

We are blessed and sacrificed at the same moment.

The breast to the memory stone.

Not a circle but a spiral and all is suddenly Carnival,

bright and loud and gilded,

showing the folds and creases of pockets and wallets and bags

as we leave them at the door.

And unburdened

we are now

free to dance.

 

The Jester’s Jester. 18×14 in. 46×36 cm. Acrylic on panel.

Painting and poem by clinock.

The Profundity of Change

the profundity of change

“Breaking through the solid grid of references”

Thank you Jana for this perfect line. @jana_h_white / http://www.poetryoflight.org

The Profundity of Change. 20×16 in. 50×41 cm. Acrylic and mixed media on panel.

~~~~~~

“Therefore, love your solitude and try to sing out with the pain it causes you. For those who are near you are far away… and this shows that the space around you is beginning to grow vast…. be happy about your growth, in which of course you can’t take anyone with you, and be gentle with those who stay behind; be confident and calm in front of them and don’t torment them with your doubts and don’t frighten them with your faith or joy, which they wouldn’t be able to comprehend. Seek out some simple and true feeling of what you have in common with them, which doesn’t necessarily have to alter when you yourself change again and again; when you see them, love life in a form that is not your own and be indulgent toward those who are growing old, who are afraid of the aloneness that you trust…. and don’t expect any understanding; but believe in a love that is being stored up for you like an inheritance, and have faith that in this love there is a strength and a blessing so large that you can travel as far as you wish without having to step outside it.”
Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

“When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.”
Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

“We are no longer the knights who say Ni! We are now the knights who say ekki-ekki-ekki-ptang-zoom-boing!”  – Monty Python

 

 

Sharing is Caring

sharing is caring

Vancouver street art. Photo by Clinock.
Thanks and kudos to the street artist @ihatestencils 🙏

If you can afford to hoard please consider donating to the Food Bank in your neighborhood. Your help is desperately needed now. Thank you.

Instagram: @johnclinock

Portfolio: johnclinockart.com

Danse Macabre

Danse Macabre

cherry blossoms bloom

robins sing and ferns unfurl

the old moon returns

but who is this dark stranger casting shadows over the daffodils, lurking unseen in the April air, stalking us as we move uncertain through an astonished world?

~~~~~~

Poem and art by clinock.

Danse Macabre, 14×17 in. 36×43 cm. Acrylic and mixed media on paper

Instagram: @johnclinock

Portfolio: johnclinockart.com

 

Solitude

solitude

 

KEEPING QUIET
by Pablo Neruda

Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still.

For once on the face of the earth,
let’s not speak in any language;
let’s stop for one second,
and not move our arms so much.

It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines;
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.

Fisherman in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would look at his hurt hands.

Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victories with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.

What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about;
I want no truck with death.

If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with death.
Perhaps the earth can teach us
as when everything seems dead
and later proves to be alive.

Now I’ll count up to twelve
and you stay quiet and I will go.

____________________________

Solitude. Acrylic and mixed media on panel. 20×16 in. 50×41 cm.

Instagram: @johnclinock

Portfolio: johnclinockart.com