Random, Abstract Poetry - The Sunday Edition 12/21/08

I take the Brooklyn Rail newspaper and underline words and phases in the articles that catch my attention. Then circle a word or phrase for the title. It's more of a subtractive process, taking a page of words and editing down to a poem or maybe several. It's kind of backwards from the traditional process of adding words to a blank page. But it works for me. The pieces of newspaper with these random abstract poems get used as collage material in my artwork. I create the artwork. My darker, semi-schizophrenic alter ego creates the poetry.

The concept of taking something that already exists and turning it into something new has been on mind ever since I saw the Richard Prince exhibition at the Guggenheim - 2008. His re-photography, nurse paintings, and deKooning woman, collage paintings were especially inspiring.


The Love Song
It's familiar.
Conjuring, and recreating.
Engaged in a frenzied effort.
Defining the end points,
Between today and yesterday.

A loosely fictionalized account.
Introduced by people,
Powerful, corporate, non-democratic.
The tribe.

An intense revolution.
Global warming, war, financial collapse,
The government?
Corporate greed?

The tribe asks,
War for freedom, a moral choice?
Control, manipulate, pressure, persuade.
The system that controls us.

We should learn a thing or two.
History repeats itself.


Back In The Day
Honest working people.
Well meaning, sincere,
Mutual trust.
Feeling from virtue.
The countryside.

Poetry of the mundane.
Long periods of silence.
The simple story.
To simply be.

And that's the problem.
The other end.

Give less, say more.
A desperation for fame.
Insincerity, cynicism, self-righteousness.
Over abundant.
A climatic climax.

Deception, frustration, pressure
Feel the pressure.
The grinding pressure.
Try to figure out the problem.
It's their problem.

Consciousness overwhelmed.
Torn families.
Feeling all alone.
Tragedy, suicide, deadly violence.
The complex life.
When does it end?

The story continues forever.


The Situation Metastasizes
Trapped inside a bubble.
Mired in delusion.
Thinking of a nightmare.

Burn the dark poetry.
It's a lesser work.
A neatly crafted diversion.

Refer to the step-by-step conspiracy.
One revelation.
The game is literal.
Insist on French pronunciation.

This unfortunate pair of fantasies.
Obsessing about cartoon caricatures.
The caricatures complaining,
They're too one-dimensional.
A joke?
More tragic than real.

Give me 24 hours.
A cerebral force revolves around.
Insist on mysterious food.
Then draw the characters.
Deeper, more intelligent.

Burn one of the characters.
The small, paranoid one.
Sour laughter ensues.

Still believing.
The only sanity we have left.