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Poetry Corner

Some things...


Some things are black and white -

most things are not. 


In some decisions the grey matter abounds and grey are the clouds above the clouded thoughts. Shrouded in the trivialities, the minutiae and the wherefores. The whos, whats, hows, whens and whys. 


The fond farewells or beleaguered goodbyes. 


Standing in parallel, the truth shares a garden fence with the lies. I don’t deny seeing things this way, the air is cloying as if breathing surrounded by smoke, the truth is suspended from a limb with a rope, the lies suffered an overdosed suicide, guilt from every tale that was spun to keep some vainest hope of truth alive. 


Monochromatic ideals steal all the colour from the world.


As the black and the white fight for power in every decision I make and story I hear...

I stare off through pupils surrounded by glaucous irises, into a horizon, which was water-coloured Gainsboro.

 

Some things are black and white...

but most things are not –

 

 

We're all carbon.

 

Discussion


 

How much of the lives we lead are really, truly and unabashedly black and white. Not the colours but the sentiment behind the phrase. Clear and unburdened by the myriad number of impacting storylines or decisions which go into filling up that space between the black and white of the thing. 


Feeling this out further, the phrase comes from the middle English and came into popular use in the 15th century. The phrase can be used to describe a number of different things: the simple colours black and white (I’ll leave my footie references aside here), in description of photographs or television. It is also used to describe the contrast of things, the definite of a situation “Look, the rules are right there in black and white”. Or used when it comes to discussions of clarity, describing the easily understood or the sentiment that this isn’t as clear a situation, ‘it isn’t all black and white’.


Sometimes it is. Most of the time, it isn’t. What exists between these two colours, these states of clarity and states of contrast is grey. This idea of the contrast between black and white, between truth and lies, and all the grey space in between, is what inspired this next piece. I decided to play with the words and the phrase, and that which lies between. Painters have the joy of the abstract; as a writer, I find  this a difficult and ever evolving skill. Maybe I’ll never crack it...


Unlike the monochrome masters of the art world, sometimes words don’t fit so neatly into this two-party colour code. I tend to find words take on a life and hue of their own, ever morphing: 

different when read than when spoken, changing and shape-shifting as they leave various mouths and minds, almost serpentine and iridescent. Some do very rigidly, mind you, keep it absolutely monochromatic throughout their work. 

I did my best....

the masters, though...

to quote one of the greats of abstract expressionism, Franz Klein, “I paint the white as well as the black."

Should I deign to mention others and try to draw a tangible link between artist their literary equivocal.

Picasso...Escher...Degas...

Bukowski...Poe... Brooks...

Fortunately...

That is something that as a writer, with a blank page and something to say, I can so easily relate to. 


 

A Wing-stroked Spectacle by Daniel Moreschi

 

Segmented sets of starlings sharply elevate

towards candescent skies, suspend, then circulate  

in sync. Their wingspans whisper sunset symphonies

while manifesting silhouetted symmetries.

 

With poise, finesse and swiftness, they transform the air

into an ever-changing scape; this canvas where

each turn and swirl unfolds a painterly display:

a moving mural, rendered on a dying day.

 

The starlings coalesce to make a chequered veil.

They crown the clouds and skim across a seaside trail,

then separate as if surrendering to gusts,

and cover summits like a desert’s storm-flung dust.

 

With tapered pace, their fevered flights revert to long

glissades of shimmering shades; a showy dance along

a latent stopgap stage. They stir, careen, decline,

retracing what remains of lofty lazuline,

 

before it all becomes a screen of red-specked gold.

The starlings falter in its wake; they cannot hold  

their elegance in fading light. Their spirals wane

in streaming chains. They spill in spates of jet-black rain.


 

The Beehive Mind (ADHD) By A.J. Kristian


THE BEEHIVE IS BUSY TODAY

THE DISHES IN THE SINK

AND THE CLOTHES IN THE DRYER

AND THE UNMADE BED

I NEED TO GO TO THE SHOP

WHAT WAS I GETTING?

I HAVEN'T CALLED MY FRIEND BACK

OR MESSAGED THAT PERSON

WHAT WAS THEIR NAME?

I'LL MAKE A COFFEE

IT WON'T HELP

I SHOULD CALL MY DAD

WHAT WAS THAT ALARM FOR?

AM I SUPPOSED TO BE WRITING SOMETHING?

WHAT WAS I GOING TO WEAR?

I'M JUST DISTRACTED

FINISH WHAT YOU WERE SAYING

WHAT HAVE I SEEN THEM IN BEFORE?

THAT'S A GOOD SONG

LET ME WRITE THAT DOWN

SCREENSHOT

SCREENSHOT

SCREENSHOT

AM I SUPPOSED TO BE WRITING SOMETHING?

THE BEES HAVEN'T MADE ANY HONEY

THERE'S SOCKS ON THE FLOOR

PICK THEM UP BEFORE-

I WAS MAKING BREAKFAST WASN'T I?

OH I WAS GETTING SAUCE FOR DINNER

FROM THE SHOP

WHAT WAS THAT ALARM FOR?

I FORGOT TO TAKE THE VITAMIN D

I FORGOT TO TAKE THE VITAMIN C

I FORGOT TO TAKE THE MAGNESIUM

I FORGOT

I FORGOT

I'M SORRY

I FORGOT

WHY DIDN'T I MAKE THIS WHEN I GOT UP?

IT DOESN'T NEED CHANGING

DOES IT?

AM I SUPPOSED TO BE WRITING SOME-

THESE SOCKS CAN GO IN THE WASHIN-

I'LL PUT THESE CLOTHES AWAY

WHAT IS THAT ALARM FOR?

WHAT WAS I DOING?

THE BEES ARE UNCOORDINATED TODAY

BEING BUZY BADLY BUZZING

THEY WILL NEVER MAKE HONEY THAT WAY

I NEED A COFFEE

NO IT WON'T HELP

LET ME JUST DO THESE DISHES

NO SUGAR

YOU HAVE TOO MUCH SUGAR

YOU NEED TO TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF

LET ME TAKE MY VITAMI-

HEY SORRY I DIDN'T GET BACK TO YOU

HI DAD, SORRY I WAS MEANT TO CALL

DIDN'T I JUST MAKE THE BED?

I THOUGHT I DID THE DISHES?

I THOUGHT I TOOK THE CLOTHES OUT?

AM I SUPPOSED TO BE WRITING SOMETHING?

CHRIS

THAT WAS HIS NAME

THE BUZZING IS RELENTLESS

I NEED TO PAY THE RENT

IT'S ALL THE TIME

MAKE HONEY ALREADY

I'M SO TIRED

MAYBE I SHOULD NAP

THAT'S WHAT THAT ALARM WAS FOR

I FORGOT

I'M EXHAUSTED

WHAT TIME IS MY TRAIN?

WHAT WAS I WEARING AGAIN?

I'M DISTRACTED, I'M SORRY

I'M SORRY

I'M SORRY

PLEASE FINISH WHAT YOU WERE SAYING

I DIDN'T MEAN TO INTERRUPT

I'M SORRY

I FORGOT

I FORGOT

I FORGOT

CAN THE BEES JUST GET IT TOGETHER

THERE IS STUFF TO BE DONE

THE SOCKS ARE IN THE WASHING AT LEAST

I SUPPOSE THIS IS THE SOMETHING

I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE WRITING


 

 

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