He Piled up the past, set it ablaze. Under Sapphire twilight Specked with diamonds. The fox watched the red hot light From the safety of the briar Hungry winter flames Leapt out of oil and turpentine And the rubble of the past Was turned to ash
I have just finished a triptych, two years in the making. It began with a photograph and ended up on canvas. The art was inspired by many things. Even in my darkest moment, I was driven to pursue these abstracts. I wrote and published some strange poems under two different profiles on this site, both of those profiles have been deleted. I want to apologise if I said weird stuff. I wasn't right during 2021. Here is the art, the only positive to come out of the madness.
I could tell you what it means but where's the fun in that.
The wind roared through leafless trees Like winter waves on shingle shores Ash grey clouds bled across weakened blue. Parliments rode the wind. The black dog ran across sodden fields. The sun failed. Rain.
It was the day of nine o’clock G.C.S.E math’s exam. We lined up outside the lunch hall like conscripts awaiting basic training. The black painted mesh of the bike shed was flaking. I picked at it. I felt sick. I snuck into the drama block to smoke a roll up. It made me even sicker. I came back, I took my tie off, and then my jumper. ‘Where’s your tie?’ said Mr. Clumper. ‘I don’t feel well, you don’t need to a tie to pass an exam,’ I said. ‘Rules are rules. Put your tie back on.’ I obeyed. I looked at my friend. He was browsing a revision book. He was...
I’m grateful for the smell of wet leafy mud When sun warms the graveyard For the mud I walk above For the sea’s mercy When laughter melts misery For artists who suffered for us For musicians that warned and warmed and thrilled us The way trees sway in the wind