Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Spare Is, as, Spare Does.

You let it drop to me.

You spoke of my confessions...

what about yours?

Is it the case that

you and I share the same tendency

to cover our tracks?

One born of preterit hope...

that what cannot be seen,

may not exist...

An ultimate presence and absence

co-mingled in matrixial night,

of the darkest matter?

You mentioned the horrors of war,

seductive cover-ups...

the fashion to obscure the lies

and the drapery

of existence failed.

Your grief,


your fathers standards...

splinters in your soul...

a trail of sorrows,

the lagrima mundi...

of your entire life.

Now the splinters emerge

and come to term,

not the first time,

but again as specter

in the form of paintings

as elegant and minimal

as any judgmental

and discriminating Papa

might expect

from his exquisitely

talented and beautiful


the daughter



amongst the ravage

of horror

and human misery

bound in ecstasy.

And under the cover of cosmic night

you do your Papa proud,

your Papa is undone.

Meanwhile the sheets are set

and the forms

remain clean,

aquiline fine,

with all the glimmer

and spareness

one should want

of a woman desired

yet chaste.

Look Papa!

All of it is there!

Your daughter has

suggested everything,

while revealing nothing!

She has done it




amid your past

and presence

which lay


by her growing power,

her frightful bower,

of intimacy and secrecy.

Papa is there a groom

whom shall marry this bride?

Or a seed

that shall be spilled upon her?

My Lady,

To you

I will reveal

only what is comfortable

for you to bare.

I will spare all

or spare nothing.

Spare is

as spare does,

So shall I be spare

for the sake of thee.

You are my ground,

the point of my discharge

vessel of electric overload,

virgin ground,

And to you it is charged

to remain pure

and to remain active

even after the light passes through,

and the carnal blood is spilled.

My lady

I implore you

The sky is alive

for the ground to receive.


  1. i appreciate my father's standards... anything i do is a success (sarcasm).

    hey, where have you been? can you come vote on which character to develop on my blog (your idea)?

    great poem btw.

  2. A "hello" from out of the deep blue depths of cyber space... or somewhere in the wilds of backwater France perhaps. Just saw the comment you left on Fucoid's voting photos, and with those brief lines you displayed such a dazzling aura of intellectual agility that I thought I'd better come take a look at the source... and can see I will have to come back and look further. Generally I have a harder time absorbing text-only blogs, as am somewhat image oriented, but can see yours will be worth the effort... Cheers from France...

  3. Yes Owen,
    I'm a bit of a Dinosaur of the text age. I do this to write my thoughts and as I do a lot of research... if that's what it is, the writing is the product. No images because i am an artist that well, is only interested in creating images (anymore) that have an actual physical venue as "things". I lack any audience for my "stuff", (I have been censored, black-balled and well out-caste I suppose... and it is absurd seeing that Bratz Dolls are certainly more perverse than I am). Also I have run out of room in my abode to store Art, therefore, I can no longer justify the time and effort to make what will never be seen. Even bars won't have it....?, ...and I have credentials no less (go figure)! What's a Rougie to do but join the Fucoid and become a denizen of the Theatre of the Absurd wherein the truth is stranger than the fiction and the IQ level is far and away higher than most of the sites out there. YET, final truth is, I can't figure out how to post images and make my site more magazine like! I would like to; but Dino I am! Text only for now.
    I do like your photos and will apply some thought when the muse strikes. Presently i am absorbing the cultural imputs you achieve into my wired brain.
    Thanx Owen!

  4. Hey BoneFarm, it took me a few days to get back here, and see this comprehensive and thoughtful answer you composed... I can see you are a composer, and perhaps a composter to boot. Hmmmm, I'm curious now to know what kind of objects you've been creating that have filled up your abode to overflowing. Your mention of Theatre of the Absurd reminded me right away of a place here in France called the Museum of the Absurd, or "Le Musée de l'Insolite"... the guy who runs it is a creative genius, I've done a few posts about it in the past, which you can find by going down the right side into the "labels" and clicking on Bertrand Chenu... if you're curious about it anyway, just a suggestion. He has a website also, which I've linked to from the posts. Thanks for dropping by, and if the photos cause any thoughts to be provoked, well, that's their raison d'être... take care, owen