hip hip horray!
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
Requiem
I wrote this as an assignment for University after Krisjan's death. I still think it packs some good emotion though. Enjoy.
A Knights Homecoming
His pony stood still on the road.
She was the matted grey of an overcast November sky
with traces of quicksilver bursting off her muzzle.
Her kneecaps were crowned with white
and her hooves were cracked and flat from travel.
Her saddle was empty.
A carpet of leaves flooded the dyke on either side of the road
building upwards
until the fiery tongues of the dead foliage
were lapping at the gravel.
A wind blew over the hillcrest
and down into the woods
and sharply through the naked trees
like a ghost song.
I saw his pony on the road,
the phantom steed of a dead warrior –
and I saw that his banner was slung over the beasts neck,
it was his wounded soul.
I could feel that the saddle was still warm.
I crept close to his pony and whispered in her ear,
“Fear not for your purpose, though these are lonely days –
for you shall now carry us when we are wounded.”
The beast then snorted a cold breath
and stirred her hooves
and I took the banner from her neck
and laid it to rest among the White elms and Jack pines,
“Sleep easy now that you are free, my dear friend.”
From up the road
I could hear quite clearly
in the autumn stillness
the falling wail of our Companies trumpet
calling out to all Knights
far from home.
A Knights Homecoming
His pony stood still on the road.
She was the matted grey of an overcast November sky
with traces of quicksilver bursting off her muzzle.
Her kneecaps were crowned with white
and her hooves were cracked and flat from travel.
Her saddle was empty.
A carpet of leaves flooded the dyke on either side of the road
building upwards
until the fiery tongues of the dead foliage
were lapping at the gravel.
A wind blew over the hillcrest
and down into the woods
and sharply through the naked trees
like a ghost song.
I saw his pony on the road,
the phantom steed of a dead warrior –
and I saw that his banner was slung over the beasts neck,
it was his wounded soul.
I could feel that the saddle was still warm.
I crept close to his pony and whispered in her ear,
“Fear not for your purpose, though these are lonely days –
for you shall now carry us when we are wounded.”
The beast then snorted a cold breath
and stirred her hooves
and I took the banner from her neck
and laid it to rest among the White elms and Jack pines,
“Sleep easy now that you are free, my dear friend.”
From up the road
I could hear quite clearly
in the autumn stillness
the falling wail of our Companies trumpet
calling out to all Knights
far from home.
Monday, March 06, 2006
Untitled #2
spark the poetry in me
or
strike up the marching band
and watch my rhythm
As I become a pinpoint in your horizon.
or
strike up the marching band
and watch my rhythm
As I become a pinpoint in your horizon.
Untitled
Seated on the colour purple
in contested terrain
where untold delights await at inspiring prices
It strikes me as funny
the racism, hegemony, power monologues
while I sip the brew of world domination
in contested terrain
where untold delights await at inspiring prices
It strikes me as funny
the racism, hegemony, power monologues
while I sip the brew of world domination
Train (E-Stn)
E-stn showed
of the free wonder
and violet to the touch
E-stn pushed
and the threat
9 out of 10 times
E-stn squared of life
windows into the song
small and large and unusual
of the free wonder
and violet to the touch
E-stn pushed
and the threat
9 out of 10 times
E-stn squared of life
windows into the song
small and large and unusual
ScreenDoor
Searching for the three silos
only the birds knew the directionless
avenue of change
and spring was breaking through
you could hear its effort
as the screen-door slams
only the birds knew the directionless
avenue of change
and spring was breaking through
you could hear its effort
as the screen-door slams
LowDrone
This, all that is to know
trust for primary thoughts
Running, all this can be done
weary of the unreal
This is all you were
never been
Finding better
complicated only by
the low drone
trust for primary thoughts
Running, all this can be done
weary of the unreal
This is all you were
never been
Finding better
complicated only by
the low drone
Never Quit (this is your gift)
Touched by the light
touched by the shame
Never fight the push
towards growth and change
Undeniable prehension
of life's blessed rage
Where animals smell
and where animals pray
Give and give
until you cannot
then again
And then continue
the giving ways of wisdom
touched by the shame
Never fight the push
towards growth and change
Undeniable prehension
of life's blessed rage
Where animals smell
and where animals pray
Give and give
until you cannot
then again
And then continue
the giving ways of wisdom
The Great Dance
Nurses doctors dentists
it's all a game
Pedestals to be knocked down
and lovers to be renamed
The world is but a moment
touched by light and always change
So you give and you give
there's no other way
it's all a game
Pedestals to be knocked down
and lovers to be renamed
The world is but a moment
touched by light and always change
So you give and you give
there's no other way
Sunday, March 05, 2006
Saturday, March 04, 2006
Friday, March 03, 2006
Imagine simple breaths (after Uswak)
Imagine dimples light the curvature
of form and touch now spinning free
Slip the hands and ribs of heart
and silken yours and mine
so minds may beat in time
Wet electric arc the deep of ache
and tongues and broken breaths
Cross my trembling thighs
and wrap me 'round the deep inside
the soft that I may simply die
of form and touch now spinning free
Slip the hands and ribs of heart
and silken yours and mine
so minds may beat in time
Wet electric arc the deep of ache
and tongues and broken breaths
Cross my trembling thighs
and wrap me 'round the deep inside
the soft that I may simply die
Thursday, March 02, 2006
Is/Be
So this is what you get when you type in "Is/Be" in the google image search engine. A map of Spanish speaking countries. Go figure.
on criticism
Enjoy
i wish i could
being ripped apart
like some exotic
traction treatment
and the possible
ribcagecrack ecstacy
spinalcordislocation joy
i wish i could
being ripped apart
like some exotic
traction treatment
and the possible
ribcagecrack ecstacy
spinalcordislocation joy
Dream
My thoughts
and the space in between
feel sleek, slippery
knowing
peace
standing at the crossroads
wonderjoy
streaming
steadily down my face
and the space in between
feel sleek, slippery
knowing
peace
standing at the crossroads
wonderjoy
streaming
steadily down my face
funny
Cyrus Smith, a wpg artist who's part of the 2-6 group, has been sending a bunch of "5 Steps to..." emails out lately. they're pretty funny. i'll post more soon.
5 Steps to Surviving Constructive Criticism:
Step 1: It is not always you.
Step 2: The criticism can only ever be as good as your art is.
Step 3: If you have tried and tried again, try again!
Step 4: Heed all advice, but when you are about to create, forget everything you were told.
Step 5: If all else fails, make better art.
5 Steps to Surviving Constructive Criticism:
Step 1: It is not always you.
Step 2: The criticism can only ever be as good as your art is.
Step 3: If you have tried and tried again, try again!
Step 4: Heed all advice, but when you are about to create, forget everything you were told.
Step 5: If all else fails, make better art.
First
Thanks for the invitation to join the blog.
This photo is a joint effort, my daughter and I both holding the camera, with her aiming and then pressing the shutter button.
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
blog addiction
okay, so i lied. here i am again. blogging.
check out this link it's a tree planting art show page on my website-- all layout and design work by jen reeder.
http://www.lorneroberts.ca/BUGS_show.html#
check out this link it's a tree planting art show page on my website-- all layout and design work by jen reeder.
http://www.lorneroberts.ca/BUGS_show.html#
One Eyed One Horned
One eyed one Horned flying purple people eater.
Every day I eat twenty samosas and drink fifty chais. I give 2000 rupies to 100 beggers.
Im sick and gosh darned tired of art.
Labouring endlessly on my magical wooden seals. Celtic knots. Such knots that cannot be undone.
In the evenings I join the monks in their strange prayers. They seem like good people and I may join them in meditation when the wood carving is done.
The Boy in Nepal. Ive heard much from many sources. If you search on the internet now there's information. The monks here are calling him the second bhuda. In January he spontaneously combusted on camera. Breifly coming out of his medation he warned of his accumulating power.
Meanwhile I too am accumulating power. My purpose in coming here was to obtain the greater grace and guidance and blessing of Jah through communion with his various followers. I think it's working. This whole trip has been one long and strange prayer. Many holy places and things Ive done where I have been asked "what is your desire" and yet I have remained wishless. I beleive through this wishlessness Grace and Sidhis are obtained.
Strange that the only way to get what you want is to want nothing.
I remain silent. Don't flirt. Only speak when spoken to. When I take the guitar or simply with the voice, Ive felt a power that I haven't felt for a long while. And it is so good. The other night in the street I entered deep trance as if I was in the subways of Montreal and in the middle there were many people of various races dancing around and giving me amazing praises. Just When I awoke from the trance there was a dog sleeping under my legs and a tiny hindi begger boy curled up beside me.
Angel from Hell. Demon from Heaven.
Give Jah thanks and praises.
ps:
doog yllaer si ereh hsah eht
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Like a glove
A computer lets you make more mistakes faster than any other invention in human history, with the possible exception of handguns and tequila.
- Mitch Radcliffe
- Mitch Radcliffe
Monday, February 27, 2006
Help
This is my easel.
I`ve been staring at it, and nothing.
It`s been 2 days. Nothing. Not a Hing.
I`ve put a canvas on it, paper, wood-nothing.
Does this mean it`s time to put the guitar down for a while?
Does this mean I`ve exhausted my visual well?
What do the Alfa folks do in time such as these?
Is there a Viagra for artistic impotence?
Absynthe?
Absent?Abstinence?
It`s not so much a blank mind, but more of
an overwhelming wave of what topic to
explore. I bore easily.
Easely as well.
I used to mock those with blocks.
"Make a random L7 finger-frame in your surroundings, there`s your topic" I would say.
Not today, or yesterday. My formula is weak.
I need outside help.
Sunday, February 26, 2006
1378
that's how many posts there have been.
1378.
thanks for a fun year of blogging, all.
i hereby must temporarily resign, as i'm presently limiting myself to 2 hrs of net time a week.
keep it real in the meantime.
1378.
thanks for a fun year of blogging, all.
i hereby must temporarily resign, as i'm presently limiting myself to 2 hrs of net time a week.
keep it real in the meantime.
4 Noble Truths
1-- Life is suffering.
2-- The cause of suffering is desire.
3-- Ridding yourself of desire or attachments will aleviate (though not eliminate) suffering.
4-- The way to acheive this is the 8-fold path. The 8-fold path involves living with humility, compassion, simplicity, wisdom, love. And it involves meditating.
So what are you waiting for???
2-- The cause of suffering is desire.
3-- Ridding yourself of desire or attachments will aleviate (though not eliminate) suffering.
4-- The way to acheive this is the 8-fold path. The 8-fold path involves living with humility, compassion, simplicity, wisdom, love. And it involves meditating.
So what are you waiting for???
Angry love
Im gosh darned sick and tired of all you hypocritical sorcerors telling me that magic isn't real. Im sick and gosh darned tired of carrying all the magical esoteric weight myself. Can't you see this is a heavy burden? All the time beleiving in the invisible. While everyone around me laughs at my miraculous tricks saying "Silly Tiger, Tricks are for kids".
Face the facts people. Grow up. All the miracles, all your dreams, all your fantasies, all the aliens, cropcircles, 911 was a hoax, sasquatches, atlantis, all the smoke and fire that rises in tendrils just beyond your 2d vision. I breath them in and blow them out. The Life sustaining 4th dimension.
All your money, all your drama, all your cities and jobs and educations. Where will they be when you are dead?
Come join me on the black rainbow bridge that spans the thick oily river. Leave your shiny shoes on the other side. Apocalypse is coming and you won't need them where we're going.
Let's die together, drunk beyond belief on Coca Cola. Let's smoke cigarettes freely, unafraid of the mounties. Let's ride the wild sacred cow with one hand waving free.
Let's climb into the grandfather tree and go to sleep for 6 years. Like Guatama. Or his reincarnation.
Johnny Cash and June Carter are dead, why don't we reincarnate them. Ill take pills, you talk in a country accent, we'll tour all the prisons and make a fortune.
Robin Hood and little John running through the forest laughing back and forth at what the other has to say. Reminiscin this'n that'n having such a good time. Odelade odelade golly what a day.
Never ever thinking there was danger in the water. Drinking and drinking and guzzling it down. Never ever thinking a scheming sherrif and his posse had followed them, and were gathering around.
Saturday, February 25, 2006
Friday, February 24, 2006
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