Persian rugs

Posted in modern art, soliloquy for one on July 9, 2018 by gary j

what bird is that

sing outside

expanding my reality

translation:

you invisible voice call my name

you don’t know me

shape my thoughts with such song

I become your melody…

Series C 027

 

 

 

 

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disciple of mirror

Posted in modern art, soliloquy for one on July 6, 2018 by gary j

what if all those old photographs showed us in another life

adventurers, settlers, conquerors, victims

how we see our life surrounded by moments

translation:

what if we are all one, living many times

 

 

to be

Posted in modern art, soliloquy for one on July 4, 2018 by gary j

small garden with only one flower

gives the sense of beauty

beyond the fence

a world of flowers

translation:

one flower is big enough

 

sanguine eyes

Posted in modern art, soliloquy for one on July 2, 2018 by gary j

tell the plane to stop, next to that look in your eyes.

translation:

tell the words they are never enough

who fought war for love

if you even need a peace force

you may as well just hate

I will be the one who gets off the plane when you look at me…

 

 

pencil line…

Posted in modern art, soliloquy for one on July 2, 2018 by gary j

this is when every person has the possibility of loving every other person

undermines established and demanding structures of personal control

that postulates evolution is directed toward more to love than to hate

but evolution is long and decisions are quick, desire gets in the way

translation:

I look up

there are stars

I look down

Exif_JPEG_420

snake time

Posted in modern art, soliloquy for one on June 30, 2018 by gary j

 

this universe whispers songs of love to underlay all things

easy dreams the bed of roses with thorns all in a box

draw on the walls with smudges of days gone by

Buddha the graffiti a secular revolution

softer than velvet, coloured by romance

told around fires until the end of time…

 

 

 

army of faces

Posted in modern art, soliloquy for one on June 29, 2018 by gary j

could I collect all the looks of anger between two armies

banging on the walls of two rooms but in one house

when the gentle family that lived there

where are they now…

translation:

easy for me, all I have to do is feel shame, anger, and pain in my heart

stroll hillsides drinking absinthe and postulating my empathic poem

breaking down at sunset, waking up unknowing…

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