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They say home is where the heart is
and my heart is where the art lives.
So where is my home?
Art lives within us all
and begins an internal/external exchange...
a process
like humanity to trees.
We stop, relax, breathe
as one.
So where is my home?
First Contact was my spiritual home
gave meat and marrow to
broken sp...
Tuesday 8th November 2011 11:33 pm
you and us
YOU are surrounded by glass
Within that
The world
Can observe
The normality of dinner
The association of wealth
The body on the table
The watching of soaps
The entertaining of guests
The reading of books
Masturbation in bedrooms
The privacy of thought.
WE live under mirrors
And reflect them back at you
With that emotion
We coat o...
Wednesday 26th October 2011 12:00 am
feather, wood and bone
Wood and feather
brittle bone
silver leaf.
An obvious marriage
behind glass
to keepsafe.
There is a world
to know.
Place on paper.
It’s a poem
an heirloom.
If only I could fill
the box with wreathes of mist then
I could be an artist and a poet.
Smoke out the meaning.
Let it breathe.
Feather, wood and bone.
fo...
Sunday 26th June 2011 8:04 pm
Inward Reasons
`
On a hand-hewn pedestal
imagination coalesced;
on milk-white face alight
eyes sparkle with a liquid flame.
Some build ivory towers,
these hands raw from driven labour,
on scratched cheeks a stricken eye
ransoms a sculpted orphan dream.
Across time and Middle Sea
another calloused hand chiselled;
laughter on a pine-white...
Wednesday 30th March 2011 9:53 am
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