Painting (Remove filter)
Fall out.
Het berooide beeld bevat
dodelijke verfijnd smakende
tot braak vervallen componenten
Zo vredig stilgevallen
angstig neergeworpen
onverwachts ontrukt in
een hoogtepunt van
arrogant menselijk falen
Sluipende moordenaar cellen
besmetter kanker opkwekend
wekend en wenend over toekomstig
wegvallend leugenachtig verlies
De kinderen betalen de ultieme prijs
opgezwollen stervend
denken...
Friday 4th August 2023 8:59 pm
Sunsets
Erecting her easel
at the foot of the boardwalk
she mixes the paint
a hell-fire pink and crimson
and dips her brush to begin…
She paints
the end of all things
a voice lost to the fractured mind
the final moments of a life
a hand slipping away
She paints
farewell hospital conversations
her father’s beard as a cloud
she thins the blue paint with her tears
She colours in his eyes
L...
Wednesday 21st June 2023 3:51 pm
Minimalism
she's painting me
my portrait grows
she's had some trouble with my nose
a full-length nude
laid on a ramp
not easy when you're prone to cramp
she has carte blanche
her brush is free
she can do what she likes with me
today I lapsed
I got erect
she wandered closer to inspect
brushed my tackle
with sable hairs
soon we're nipping up the sta...
Thursday 9th September 2021 10:48 am
Murmur Love
Don’t be scared to put it out there
Don’t be scared to speak
sometimes what you choose to make
is pure gold
Don’t be afraid to paint what you love
Don’t be afraid to create
some things are bigger than you ever knew
eternal beyond our lives
I say go
and keep going
go and keep going
murmur love, if that’s all you’ve got
I love the way you carve it
I love the way you write
I love ...
Thursday 25th July 2019 3:28 pm
Poetry and the Cross-Pollination of Artistic Platforms
When people see a spectacular dancer,
They say, “Oh, that’s poetry in motion!”
And then they might see a moving painting,
And say, “That painting says it all—It’s like a poem!”
And good musicians are just considered poets.
I mean, Bob Dylan won a God-damned Nobel Prize
In literature, didn’t he?
But it doesn’t stop there. I’ve heard motorcycle
Races described at “pure poetry in action...
Monday 22nd April 2019 2:38 pm
The Artist [1]
In so few splashed acrylic lines
see Cornish fishing boats
take shape against the quay
the red hull and the yellow
See Cornish fishing boats
mirrored in the harbour sea
the red hull and the yellow
with the deep sky sunk below
Mirrored in the harbour sea
the jumble of masts and cranes
with the deep sky sunk below
and the distant sea above
The jumbl...
Friday 11th May 2018 12:10 pm
One Day!
One day I'll meet you In that place!!
I don't take drugs
I tried a couple times
So I can tell you what it feels like
I don't drink
Probably all the sips I've ever had
Could amount to 2 glasses of white wine and those sambuca shots when I was 17yrs old!
I love dancing
I don't seem to do it much
But I love moving
That I do everyday with Yoga
I love fashion and...
Saturday 20th May 2017 12:45 am
HURRICANE OF HURTS
Hate holds hard onto my heart
He has horrible hang ups
that harm my happiness
Hence my world was hindered
---
A husband he is not
but he is hot
If I could hire
a hit man
and hide
from the heat
It would be helpful
tho harsh
So I hesitate
---
I could not handle
his habbits
You reap what you harvest
My head is hazy
it needs a holiday
From ...
Friday 13th January 2017 8:25 pm
OpenMind website updates
We're proud to announce that our website has undergone renovations.
Please take a look at the new affiliated artist pages and the OpenMind Collective page.
Friday 31st August 2012 12:07 am
Rooftops (for Bruno Cordati)
The worst of the front was that trickle of rain
down the neck. Wet through, it felt like liberation.
And lice. Home on leave, people shunned him in trains.
Walled, hilltop village of his childhood:
as another war came, he returned to Barga.
Saw himself as immobile, a tree spreading roots.
When the Germans briefly retook his village
one self-portrait was damaged. The ...
Saturday 21st January 2012 5:51 pm
Going Home
Cars bumper to bumper
Gridlock
Trucks, buses, coaches
Idling
Engine noises,
Reverbs.
People walking
Cell phones to ears
Hand in hand
Close together,
Plotting.
Women chatting
Buddies hugging
The traffic moves
Relief – freedom
Like a dam burst
Open
All travelling
Going in the same direction.
Home.
Monday 16th November 2009 4:40 pm
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