Monday, March 12, 2012

The Mag #108 Casa Azul: The Heart of Frida Kahlo




CASA AZUL The Heart of Frida Kahlo


she ought nought
she may never have thought
to herself
as she ought and did
in thought and deed
what she wanted to do
was she just another
artist prone to feeling and being alone
living her art with a broken heart?
she slide into sunlight-streamed
rooms darkened by black lace
over her face and
shoulders he
clothed her nakedness
undulating
heaving sighs tossed her about
whipped her into a frenzied mess
like a lapsed lover she had held onto
free floating she had backslide into oblivion
only to lick her too-deep wounds
likening the taste to sea salt and Diego
she peeked at these realms
layers of cortex outcroppings
to find him always there
to wear him like a crown
in her heart he was a painful miracle
a creative revolutionary of the times
in a place known as Mexico
she had multiple flowerings there
as this love had melted them together
kept them like wax and sugar eternal
they melded form eventually, fused faces
over years of coming together
they contain containers and volumes of themselves
nigh impossible to make all this happen again
and then what would if one could
would it bring about the beginning to come again
out of her to be worn away in this way, again?
to put away the worm that betrays us
yet we still celebrate?
after years of put on hold life
of stark dark eyes stare-down
keeping passions held close to the abreast
to be used and held in this way
for too many year, for far too long
on the bay of her moorings
all but she had noticed the lightening display
the Clap of Thunder overhead
sure she'd render asunder to surrender
the weary yearly display of pictures
hung over their heads like skeletal remains
sentinels vowing and warning of pending
passions culminating in sweet death
the deflowering process
so brighter than sublime
your sunshine of your love
spake glory louder than words
posed and positioned
all remains aloof
a sudden fit to laugh it off
she loosens her fall-away kimono
yesterday's dresses neatly hung
opened her love letters to herself
this line cast long shadows
forever flowers relinquish languor
leave fragrant blossoms once more
jasmine-scented your love of beauty remains
non-plussed by time or steady intake of tickle
pass on the passer-bys
as this show must go on
must stay and trickle
her blood on this rock
on this cloth's raiment
on this painted tin panel
on this bed of thorns
proof you need of miracle?
when all around you is this?
to her this rocky adventure
and alchemical wedding
her spine enervated for a moment
caught by the outcropping
her nerves fibre art
tenuous at best this taste of salt
wounded by a thousand moons
void of position
arrows left wanting, waiting
by river's edge
sun-ripened flesh
left fresh watermelon taste
these pleasure known to all
this is all
Viva la Vida
with no seeds
your weakness so sexy
succulent supine position
all sinewy slithering mud
under the seething teeth
drooling drip wrestling
Angelic us to Jacob's
stepped volcano
where she stood atop
nonstop PreColumbian love
she could let go
but never let on
she would be
disguised by love
disgusted at pain
distinguished at service
waiting unknown hours
drenched to the bone
through and through
he'd never be through with her
married again they clung like cling peaches
thoroughly invisible to others
save the passionate urgings of wet paint
turgid flesh pounding the pavement
just a wisp of a girl turned up
cloaked in a Buffalo blanket
one glam leg left dangling
foot in cold water playing
with missing heart
the spring run-off
with someone else
oxygen-filled
monkey-filled green space
then she could
infuse herself with new life
as she without breathe
could coax the soul fires
for a moment eyes closed
hung on like a hinge
onto the last image of love
she gasped "Oh"
lungs filled again
with multiple panspermia
wading out so far, too far out to her meet her lover
it must be she buttoned his shirt
and it was the bottom of the sixty-ninth
he's hope to put a tadpole in her briny ocean
seemingly eternity would not wait
the feeding frenzy was somewhere else
He longed to take her out
beyond mere eschatology
plunging deep into her cave
he urged her to Come out Frida
to awaken the feather serpentine design
Quetzalcoatl the Puppet in the Jacket
moment of her beauty never fading
the light always a wax'd candle lit flame
A Passion Play by playing a part, an actor
longing to play a part in her own production
she created doom on display
producing the plethora of intense passion
all items known to symbolize
a union of all we are
flowing river of carnal knowledge
edgy, finding self in the chasm
unisex before unity
defining her own terms
and thus she could now trust in his
she infused her jasmine ebony hair with ribbons
wore costumes he'd like, she'd like if he had of stayed
instead of strayed
to have children
she wanted this so badly
her skin warmed us by image
she infused her charmed life into us
all this that she was put into this
made us dream these strange dreams
these worlds of hers
remain alive
Casa Azul; House of Blues and Pain Factory
her lover's tent a place she called grounded
made a rustle, between the sheets
she dewy-eyed wild-eyed deer look
hair running wild down her cheeks
tears of joy painful to watch
her passing image bolts us into submission
she holds us captive
ignites the night with a thousand stars
here where these two supernova's meet
conspicuous rivers converge
in the art world
Frida; please glaze down from heaven
at the rooted ground strung with ribbons
see the place teaming with microscopic life
where crawfish breathe cement
and conch shells spew panspermia
and caw caw birds macaws and leave lucky reminders
did your monkeys lifeline or am I to throw on to you?
Your paintings cry "Help me Jesus" yet I did see some saviours
but not one could save you here,
I see you as a martyred saint for women without wombs...
Did you mend your broken heart?
Did you really come to terms with life
when you chose not to return?
as how could one remain oblivious to your pain
to that eternal jungle scream from you
Are you still broken heart mind and soul?
I know you are not in pain anymore
But you lived~!
held onto sheer pleasure too
to fly sky-high free floating love
as the message is this
"get into the pain to release it"
you knew this
sensed the burning of things
sensation of flesh-fed fires
and yet you produced flowers
odd though they may be after churned out
of burbling of love-drowned tongues
blurred lines long distant hissing
and danger in the desert
your defence; you have none
where these subterranean places meet you
and where you grew up
still longing to invite us
to Casa Azul
Feet, what do I need you for when I have wings to
fly?Read more: http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/f/frida_kahlo.html#ixzz1ov9TuQ4c
Chiccoreal

Monday, March 5, 2012

The Mag #107 First Attempt to Spoon the Moon (with much credo to Tess Kincaid)


The Mag #107

First Attempt to Spoon the Moon

Over the Moonerisms
Love O' Spoonerisms

I fancy that
Eye Nancy they

Trials and Tribulations
Troubles with Treble nay, shuns

Dishearten pleas
Discord en, please

Tangled up in Blue
Wrangled up n' Booze

Here's Looking at You Kid
Where's Nookie fg Ukulele?

I got my eye on you
Egad me honey

I LOVE YOU
ay Louvre vu
i open ewe
new open view


Very close and almost there...as if almost were a part of the brain that wants to hear something other than that which forms the lexicon of words. As we hear the sound, the sound forms comprehensive meaning only after we pull together all the loose sounds as meaningful threads which makes parts of words, words, then parts of speech, then constructs of sentences, paragraphs, essays, novels, tortes of all kinds (tarts of mocha). As such is the nature of speech and all that is in it does make this shock of the new (Shaka khan) and as all these new word form from the sounds of the VOWELS..and we put together so many cliche words to make a whole new Ball of whack, or bally wick (also known as a ball of wax). And I may I be so bold as to suggest our brains have fun tweaking these originating sounds to create new meaning? As creative as it gets on the down low or DE louvre and all the while (elderberry)will be doing just this all wrong (awry). So how now brown cow (Elbrus or http://inebriati.org/nuke/index.php) leads us on a wonderful trip down memory lane (mom relay) this is how these new words are formed~ Ha Ha (hey hey~)
do listen to "Tangled Up In Blue" with Bob Dylan (Wrangled up n Booze with Borderland)
(and thanks to the use of spellcheck for a new slant on spoonerisms plus I found a new mountain pic to put on my timeline which is getting less time and more line)
Chiccoreal

Sunday, February 26, 2012

The Mag #106 Can On The Moon




Can on The Moon Series by Andy JANE JONES Warhol and R.E.M.

Lyrics borrowed by commericial tm

Campbell Soup and the game of Life (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
Andy Warhol in the wrestling match (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
Monopoly, Twenty-one, Checkers, and Chess (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
Mister Andy Warhol in a cereal mess (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
Let's play Twister, let's play Risk (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
See you heaven if you make the list (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

Now, Andy did you hear about this one
Tell me, are you locked in the punch
Andy are you proofing on Elvis? Hey, baby
Are we losing touch
If you believed they put a can on the moon, can on the moon
If you believe there's nothing up his sleeve, then nothing is cool

Moses went walking with the staff of wood (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
Newton got beaned by the apple good (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
Egypt was troubled by the horrible asp (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
Mister Charles Darwin had the gall to ask (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

Now Andy did you hear about this one
Tell me, are you locked in the punch
Hey, Andy are you proofing on Elvis? Hey, baby.
Are you having fun
If you believed they put a can on the moon, can on the moon
If you believe there's nothing up his sleeve, then nothing is cool

Here's a little agit for the never-believer (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
Here's a little ghost for the offering (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
Here's a truck stop instead of Saint Peter's (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
Mister Andy Warhol's gone wrestling
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Now Andy did you hear about this one
Tell me, are you locked in the punch
Hey Andy are you proofing on Elvis, hey baby, are we losing touch
If you believed they put a can on the moon, can on the moon
If you believe there's nothing up his sleeve, then nothing is cool

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Andy_Warhol

lyrics slightly "altared" by R.E.M.

http://www.lyrics007.com/R.E.M.%20Lyrics/Man%20On%20The%20Moon%20Lyrics.html

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1hKSYgOGtos

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Revealing The Light: As I Began to Love Myself

Revealing The Light: As I Began to Love Myself: Attributed to Charlie Chaplin As I began to love myself I understood how much it can offend somebody as I try to force my desires on ...

Monday, February 20, 2012

Mag #105 **RING **RING It's For You QUESTIONS AND ODD ANSWERS



RING RING IT'S FOR YOU
WHO SAID THAT?
THERE'S NOBODY HERE!

CAN YOU PLEASE ANSWER THAT NON-STOP RINGING IN MY EARS?
I DON'T WANT TO, YOU GET IT!

ARE YOU ALWAYS GOING TO LET ME GET SO TICKED OFF BY LETTING IT RING OFF THE HOOK FOREVER?
IT IS ALWAYS TELEMARKETERS ANYWAY!

DON'T YOU HAVE CALL-DISPLAY?
I DON'T WANT TO BE REMINDED VISUALLY OF VERBAL ABUSE!

DID YOU FINALLY GET ON THE NO-CALL LIST?
YOU THINK I HAD TIME TO DO THAT WITH MY SCHEDULE!

YOU STILL HAVE A LAND-LINE?
IN CASE THE ELECTRICITY GOES OFF; YEAH!

IS THIS THE LAST TELEPHONE BOOTH IN THE UNIVERSE?
I THOUGHT IT DR WHO WANTING HIS TARDIS BACK!

HOW MUCH DOES IT COST TO PLACE A CALL TO MARS?
I THINK IT STILL ONLY COSTS A DIME BUT I'M IN A HITCHHIKER ON A BIKE TIME WARP!

WHO AM I SPEAKING TO... LET ME REPHRASE THIS; OF TO WHOM AM I SPEAKING?
NO DOUBT AN ECHO FROM YOUR DISTANT PAST ON THE FAR SIDE! A LITTLE GREEN MAN!

PLEASE SAY GOODNIGHT MY FAVOURITE MARTIAN?
NO, YOU HANG UP FIRST THEN I'LL SAY GOODNIGHT!

GOODNIGHT?
GOODNIGHT!

THANKS TESS KINCAID OF THE MAG FOR YOUR MOST AMAZING PHOTO PROMPT THIS WEEK~ PLEASE VISIT THE GREAT UNKNOWN HERE;
http://magpietales.blogspot.com/2012/02/mag-105.html

Monday, February 13, 2012

Mag #104 "the Birth of Venus"

Christoph Gilbert Photographer
```
^^^^^
The Birth of Venus
Her Birth
Delivered Us
Her life
enabled us
to love again
~~
We too, envisioned Her
As She so Blue
Waiting For Love to Conquer
She Became Us
and
we became her
~~
Emerging from the Deep Sleep of the Sea
to come to know her
better to help her
Dear
Venus
give
Birth to Herself
~~
Venus
by the
Sea
by the watery place
which had defined us
~~
Her Physical form
perfected
had left us
untouched
by other lovers
in her wake
Her
Aura had left
Deep imprints of Indigo blue
Our Lady of the Night Sweats
~~
Unphazed
tinged with Mars sanguine
Venus
United In Turgid Spirituality
we children knew
that Venus Knew US
A Force of ONE
swirl of Colours Spin
of Liquid Spun
Rainbow Arched Expanse
Her Ascendant
Rising
Higher than His High
almost too high
as we pitiful fools
seek her comfort
Upon our shameful lowdown
we are still high
~~
On Our Sorrowful Brows
her sweet sweat
brought nectar sweet
boughs to bend down
her heady intoxicating effects
unnoticed by those still in repose
asleep in her belly
astral bodies surrounding
vivid her flash pot flesh
she still favours flavours
~~
Mount Venus
Mare Tranquillus
since
we
shine
brighter than morning
sweetheart please star shine on me
leave tears of joy in my eyes
joy within our orbs we meet
as she regenerates us
our atrophy selves
leave us to awake
a ripple
leaves
her maiden hair
to ruffle our tailfeathers
her presence
her essence
her emphasis
emphatic symbol
~~
Cosmic Skin
our meat suit hung
Awakening
to
New Worlds
Dawn Early Light
Embodies
Clothe
the Naked Venus
in
memory of
Love
in the
Morning
~~~
As Love Sweet Sweat
loves to Lingers
hugs each contour of our
materialessness
our lightbody nonbody
not wanting to awake
she softly tiptoes across
heaven's firmament
too comfortable in her skin
to look back or lean forward
she embeds her passion
our spiral galaxy undulates around her
her serpentine
positions
undulating ventricals
expose our heartbeat
to let loose the tightly woven spiral of Jason's curls
Left so aloft
This Long after this eternity Ends
She rises
We arose
to welcome her
occasional appearance
~~~
Love
flows
motionlessly
on her seas
bobbing up and down
in measured rhythm
Her
latent
power
atrophied
energy
unspent
now
bursts forth
reclaiming
her
feminine ways
whiling away the hours
``
she
who
birthed the sun
Displays her showy Array
of spent energy
Her Armada
Interlocks Arms
Blockading
Any incoming advances
of her many amours
~~
Girded with God her army
flanks the front, the rear
the north south
the east west
all that we are
we were
these interlocking
blocks
she is a brick
Armature
We Make these concessions
to make this connection
We Swim sublime as we intermingle
our fluid veritas
We Shake Within Her
make her quaver
to relinquish her will
to Our Lady
Her realm is now Ours
The Body of The People Electric
As The Divine Surrounds Her Soul
The Harbinger of Love
pierces her sorrowful heart
Harmoniously Sung
~~
Songs of Venus
Sung by a Legion of Cupids
Rings Round Her Heart
Unlocking her secrets
Within Her Venetian Walls
Her Essential Oils spark our recall
Heaven-scented Essence rare
we claim her as
Our Own Beginning
~~
For there, within her
We find
Our Sacred Selves
~~~
Chiccoreal
Thank-you Tess Kincaid of The Mag (2012) for the inspirational Valentine's Day prompt.
Make a card here:

www.magpietales@blogspot.com

Happy Valentine's Day Bloggers

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

Mag #103 "I, Once A Refusenik"

a grave at the Novodevichy Cemetery, Moscow
"I, Once A Refusenik"
You can have this bloody ruby
after you pry it from my
cold dead hands
unaware of my body
my arms stiffened with rigor mortis
somewhat riddled by stray bullets
A spy at the Politburo
Phil Meghan
noticed my concrete holes
and covered them up
not really a coverup
I, Once A Refusenik
tight weave of crystalline form
always appreciated
now just needed by those in the know
by the dead heap of the night
the nameless come
unearthed the masses
underneath me
surrounding me
they desire the very thing
I hold
all of them
needing me?
no, wanting me!
so now, go ahead,
you newly dead
just take it!
Chiccoreal
Thanks Tess Kincaid of The Mag for the inspiring image with the Russian allure. Please transit here for a glimpse behind the scenes;