Tuesday, February 16, 2016

Jonathan Beale- Three Poems

The Earth Enslaved

The earth enslaved: Diego Rivera, fresco, 1926 University of Chapingo, Mexico

Capitalism as two grotesques
Reliant upon the vie of the second side.
The cloud of dictators affects the sight
And senses of the masses.
The sun rises as they are in their fields;
Either owned by or chained by the
The dictatorial that blindly squeeze…
And squeeze…. and squeeze…

On, and on, and on, and on….
The named of the land.  Whose
Invisible venom is the parasitic
Worm that drives this viciously
Circular scenario, the curved body
Exhausted, spent, left with nothing.

Self-portrait as Mars (Selbstbildnis als Mars) 1915

The world was at war - a year in.
The inner chaos of the mind.
A war of absolutes.
The world spat and spewed
Fresh generations to 
New and newer depths
To inflict pain upon.  
The eye drinks in the red
Red of the blood of
The good and the bad.
Here, in his mind
Deformities’ of the undefinable
Shards, crosses, skulls, & blood.
Remain in his mind forever
In this raucous collage
Of his final desperation.

Mullholland Drive: The Road to the Studio 1980 David Hockney

‘When I started living up in the Hollywood Hills, I drove every day down to my studio.  I became fascinated by all these wiggly lines and they began to enter the paintings.  From the hills, Los Angeles is a completely different experience.  In fact, these pictures are more realistic than you might think.  When you look at Mulholland Drive –and Drive is not the name of the road, but the act of driving – your eye moves around the painting at about the same speed as the car drives along the road.’  David Hockney.

Every route makes its own plans
The tread marks of each
Journey seen in relapse photography

The season division and then
Months division and on to
The weekly daily and hourly.

The act of the ‘drive’ – driving.
A means to an end and an extension
Just another living space

Watching the others in their spaces
Passing along drowning
In metaphors – similes

Each time takes anticipation
And draws on reflection to make
A wider sea of anticipation

To drown or make generative
Watching the tennis courts empty
Or watching a game in passing

Sunglassed masses
In their machines smoking
Looking like spiders or ants

The automated formication
Motion du-dah-du-dah
Ants like men follow singular paths

In this cartographers hallucination
I drew upon the journey
That just goes on ad infinitum …  

No comments:

Post a Comment