Prometheus
Jose Clemente Orozco ‘Prometheus’
Fresco 1930
Baby, baby drove up in a Cadillac
I said, "Jesus Christ! Where'd you get that Cadillac?"
She said, "Balls to you, big Daddy."
She ain't never coming back!
She ain't never coming back!
She ain't never coming back!
I said, "Jesus Christ! Where'd you get that Cadillac?"
She said, "Balls to you, big Daddy."
She ain't never coming back!
She ain't never coming back!
She ain't never coming back!
(Taylor Vince) The Clash
Still the stone carved
I’m afraid I thought this situation
Green eye to the sky
Not realised behind Zeus’
eye
The Caucasus Mountains
Are never that far away
From anyone
Stealing the golden secret
Making the golden sparkling red
Fire. That untameable beast
That licks and devours
The air as it consumes
Without prejudice devours.
Consequences weigh
Weigh heavy in the cold
Mountain air
The Caucasus Mountains
Brace in preparation
The unbreakable adamanite
Chains rattle a metallic
Paradiddle
Chained by Vulcan
Time to think
Every act has its home
As the eagle comes
Down each day
The eagle tears at the
Bitter meat – tormenting
Him - on and on….
There are choices
Afterwards times lines
To think and decided
That eternal sharp beak
Relief had to come
It had to in the form
Of Chiron the Centaur
Offered the ultimate
Finally freed by
Hercules
“Unchained”
“Unchained”
“Unchained”
“Unchained”
“UNBOUND….”
Self Portrait with Muse Otto Dix
1924
The muse like a Medusa
Irrepressible.
She takes hold of him and
pins
Him with her hypnotic
eyes
Relentlessly.
Through time, that time, time is running
away
Momentous
As the dog beholden
To the master, he is
subservient
Cosmogenesis.
The crisp blue gauze
lapis lazuli
Flittering in the
breeze
He is held by her and his need
for
Hamadryad.
He is both creator and subject of
the
allegorical
she charms him, she feeds
him
her breast must feed him and
others
infinitesimally
A Walk around the Hotel Courtyard,
Acatian. 1985
The morning, bright a
diamond
A spherical as the sun
In its own private infinitity
The day, yet to come to
fruition
As yet unwritten
The scribes prepare
The five trees a private
pentinity
Seeking light and earth
And Sangra and cigarettes
The igloo spindle that all roads lead
to
The eye begins its work
The arm and hand await
instruction.
Artists, physicist’s, and
philosophers’
Only understand as shadows
And paths mislead the masses.
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