Wherein history careened
Like a stray bullet
nb: the prominent Pop Artist James Rosenquist painted ‘President Elect’ (featured image) in 1961, nearly 3 years before JFK’s assassination by Lee Harvey Oswald. But take a closer look at the image and you will see that it is astoundingly prophetic of the assassination. The sleek section of the car recalls the motorcade where it all happened, and the harrowing Zapruder footage of Jackie Kennedy clambering across the hood of the Lincoln Continental. Even the mirrored surface of the Wheel in Rosenquist’s painting appears to me as a perfect rendition of the Texas School Book Depository, where Oswald calmly waits, along with the bullet whose tenuous trajectory would dramatically alter the course of history. But the truly haunting image is located in the dead centre: a piece of cake bleached of all colour, torn apart by those deathly pale hands which reach from the pristine visage of JFK, an image which represents the moment of the bullet’s impact…
Hark, shameful wretches!
To mother’s belly banished,
Crave quench the famished
Continue reading “TITUS’ BANQUET”
‘Ware of prophecy
For hate and blood it thickens
Flee, pretty chickens
Continue reading “MACBETH”
Shards of ancient stone
Conjure dreams of mythic hue,
Temples by moonlight
Continue reading “TEMPLE DREAMS”
Curator of cascading cavalcades and causeways of carnality,
Virtuoso of vivisection, mosaics of calamity,
In whose worlds a prosaic insanity festers midst cortex;
Synergies of synapse and syntax, an existential vortex.
Through a geometric rhetoric of plaza and high rise,
Come parables comparable to Freudian mythologies.
Where avian conclaves of Loplopian apostles soar,
As the corpses of collossi are numbly washed ashore.
Marooned tycoons wander in some highway purgatory,
Metro meets Mecca: all hail the gods of multi-storey.
A Triassic redux as concrete jungles plunge neath tide,
From Shanghai to Shepperton he pedalled, forever wide-eyed…
Latent gospel plucked from slumber
Writhing as seething logic tears asunder
These retinal confessionals which drawn
From the tattered slacks of droning hacks whose dawn
Is borne from fleeting mania amongst ceaseless cognitive curfews
Where spontaneous poetic passions percolate like zeppelins doing corkscrews
Where cubist contortions reign and the blighted blatherings of historians
Wither into stony columns of drivel and whitespace – trivial emporiums
Which shy away from the kaleidoscopic sensorium of surreality
An exclusive realm of poets and purveyors of psyche, far beyond mere animality
NB: featured image is Max Ernst’s ‘triumph of surrealism’ (1937)