i'm no advocate of petty vandalism unless it has artistic merit. a car antenna bent into a squiggle is fine. a car antenna just bent is a waste. popular music has been turned into a stage for individuals, masquerading as musicians, to attract significant others. the artform is secondary, reproduction: primary. if a poet was to write with urgency all the time, she would turn to stone. so, i let my hair grow the way it pleases, the wind is my gel, the finishing touches applied by breezes.
new works completed:
writing »»»
the banalisation of liverpool
extract:
“'ugliness, poor design, stupid waste.' the new build sought only to conglomerate existing structures, not to threaten. the new tenements, espousing inner city living, are bland reconfigurations of brick and mortar, indemnifying the unity of the moneyed. no architectural rebellion, no challenge to the skyline or the eyeline has been implemented, no liverpool revolution, only dash renovation to make room for transportation of citizens in and out of the city. the city must be rejected, it’s edifices denounced.”
the confusion of beauty
extract:
"if beauty cannot be denied completely, even in solitude, then we must bend the rules of beauty in order to begin the task of its rejection. beauty must be confined to the inanimate, so must the synonymic tree of beauty. it must not be turned on ourselves. aesthetics, the benefactor of beauty, must concern itself with the inanimate only. it has no right to concern itself with the living, unless it is comfortable with the maintenance of indignity."
american girl would like to explore shoreditch (the illusion of male english charm)
extract:
geographical boundaries, that tales of yore surmount, to marry an english knight you have set out from boston or thereabouts. little do you know or mind,
for to mind would break the spell, hoping to meet someone who is perfect for you, someone you could accept just as they are.
“these things seem to be what i need in a man, please don't be angry if it sounds shallow, it's just the way i am.”
"interesting bone structure, decent teeth, nice big hands, most of your hair, witty, intelligent, somewhat reserved, gentle, passionate, and loyal by nature."
“please, no criminals.”
forthcoming in:
the delinquent magazine (issue 8) 2009
recently published in:
music »»»
1. instrucle for matins
2. nerdcore
amateur film completed:
total savings amount to 43 pence »
von hafenbecken von sonnenuntergang »
i did not dare go out today, so i stayed in and watched the world » (pica picas warned me of the dangers of going out this sunday, so i stayed in, watched the world via projectors, and made this short película)
amateur film in production :
the roots of buildings» (still)
ongoing project:
3 films
a poetic triptych based on loss, potation and the demimonde.
film location: liverpool
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Hi. I've now completed the third part of my “Super Glue for the Broken Hearted” trilogy so here it is and I hope you can take something from it! Parts 1 and 2 (“She Breathes” and “She Frees”) are on my blog and if I've known you a while they may be on your comments page from last year too.
Many thanks for the friendship and support and have a great day! ~ Si =)
HE BLEEDS
Love is like no-one else you ever met. His face obscured like a diamond of light behind white shadows. You laugh and sob in his presence, unable to comprehend his majestic beauty. He takes your hand and leads you through worlds of immeasurable splendour, devastating loss, ravishing beauty and unspeakable pain. When darkness surrounds, you lose all sight of him and scream out in terror like a child rejected by it's parent. But in time you realise that he has let go of your hand because he now carries you in his arms.
He stands in the gap between you and everything that would harm you. He negotiates for you, he fights on your behalf. He absorbs all pain, darkness, heartache, fear, loss, grief, sadness, evil, torture and death.
He roars like a lion and bleats like a lamb. He lives in serenity, creates courage and is the foundation of all wisdom.
He is the starving child in Africa, the destroyed family of Iraq. He is the bedraggled alcoholic on the street corner. He is the married executive on his way to the whore house. The terrified mother with a dying child. He is the baby killed at the hands of those who should have protected him and also the parents who did that.
He is black, white, light and dark. He stands outside of time and towers over everything else the universe has ever known.
But in all strength, he is weak and utterly defenceless. He steps in front of you. He cries.
He reaches out his arms, and enveloping your soul into his heart, He drops his head and he dies.
