Croque Monsieur – My way

Croque Monsieur – My way.

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Casa Azul The Heart of Frida Kahlo

Monday, March 12, 2012

The Mag #108 Casa Azul: The Heart of Frida Kahlo


CASA AZUL The Heart of Frida Kahlo

she ought nought
she may never have thought
to herself
as she ought and did
in thought and deed
what she wanted to do
was she just another
artist prone to feeling and being alone
living her art with a broken heart?
she slide into sunlight-streamed
rooms darkened by black lace
over her face and
shoulders he
clothed her nakedness
undulating
heaving sighs tossed her about
whipped her into a frenzied mess
like a lapsed lover she had held onto
free floating she had backslide into oblivion
only to lick her too-deep wounds
likening the taste to sea salt and Diego
she peeked at these realms
layers of cortex outcroppings
to find him always there
to wear him like a crown
in her heart he was a painful miracle
a creative revolutionary of the times
in a place known as Mexico
she had multiple flowerings there
as this love had melted them together
kept them like wax and sugar eternal
they melded form eventually, fused faces
over years of coming together
they contain containers and volumes of themselves
nigh impossible to make all this happen again
and then what would if one could
would it bring about the beginning to come again
out of her to be worn away in this way, again?
to put away the worm that betrays us
yet we still celebrate?
after years of put on hold life
of stark dark eyes stare-down
keeping passions held close to the abreast
to be used and held in this way
for too many year, for far too long
on the bay of her moorings
all but she had noticed the lightening display
the Clap of Thunder overhead
sure she’d render asunder to surrender
the weary yearly display of pictures
hung over their heads like skeletal remains
sentinels vowing and warning of pending
passions culminating in sweet death
the deflowering process
so brighter than sublime
your sunshine of your love
spake glory louder than words
posed and positioned
all remains aloof
a sudden fit to laugh it off
she loosens her fall-away kimono
yesterday’s dresses neatly hung
opened her love letters to herself
this line cast long shadows
forever flowers relinquish languor
leave fragrant blossoms once more
jasmine-scented your love of beauty remains
non-plussed by time or steady intake of tickle
pass on the passer-bys
as this show must go on
must stay and trickle
her blood on this rock
on this cloth’s raiment
on this painted tin panel
on this bed of thorns
proof you need of miracle?
when all around you is this?
to her this rocky adventure
and alchemical wedding
her spine enervated for a moment
caught by the outcropping
her nerves fibre art
tenuous at best this taste of salt
wounded by a thousand moons
void of position
arrows left wanting, waiting
by river’s edge
sun-ripened flesh
left fresh watermelon taste
these pleasure known to all
this is all
Viva la Vida
with no seeds
your weakness so sexy
succulent supine position
all sinewy slithering mud
under the seething teeth
drooling drip wrestling
Angelic us to Jacob’s
stepped volcano
where she stood atop
nonstop PreColumbian love
she could let go
but never let on
she would be
disguised by love
disgusted at pain
distinguished at service
waiting unknown hours
drenched to the bone
through and through
he’d never be through with her
married again they clung like cling peaches
thoroughly invisible to others
save the passionate urgings of wet paint
turgid flesh pounding the pavement
just a wisp of a girl turned up
cloaked in a Buffalo blanket
one glam leg left dangling
foot in cold water playing
with missing heart
the spring run-off
with someone else
oxygen-filled
monkey-filled green space
then she could
infuse herself with new life
as she without breathe
could coax the soul fires
for a moment eyes closed
hung on like a hinge
onto the last image of love
she gasped “Oh”
lungs filled again
with multiple panspermia
wading out so far, too far out to her meet her lover
it must be she buttoned his shirt
and it was the bottom of the sixty-ninth
he’s hope to put a tadpole in her briny ocean
seemingly eternity would not wait
the feeding frenzy was somewhere else
He longed to take her out
beyond mere eschatology
plunging deep into her cave
he urged her to Come out Frida
to awaken the feather serpentine design
Quetzalcoatl the Puppet in the Jacket
moment of her beauty never fading
the light always a wax’d candle lit flame
A Passion Play by playing a part, an actor
longing to play a part in her own production
she created doom on display
producing the plethora of intense passion
all items known to symbolize
a union of all we are
flowing river of carnal knowledge
edgy, finding self in the chasm
unisex before unity
defining her own terms
and thus she could now trust in his
she infused her jasmine ebony hair with ribbons
wore costumes he’d like, she’d like if he had of stayed
instead of strayed
to have children
she wanted this so badly
her skin warmed us by image
she infused her charmed life into us
all this that she was put into this
made us dream these strange dreams
these worlds of hers
remain alive
Casa Azul; House of Blues and Pain Factory
her lover’s tent a place she called grounded
made a rustle, between the sheets
she dewy-eyed wild-eyed deer look
hair running wild down her cheeks
tears of joy painful to watch
her passing image bolts us into submission
she holds us captive
ignites the night with a thousand stars
here where these two supernova’s meet
conspicuous rivers converge
in the art world
Frida; please glaze down from heaven
at the rooted ground strung with ribbons
see the place teaming with microscopic life
where crawfish breathe cement
and conch shells spew panspermia
and caw caw birds macaws and leave lucky reminders
did your monkeys lifeline or am I to throw on to you?
Your paintings cry “Help me Jesus” yet I did see some saviours
but not one could save you here,
I see you as a martyred saint for women without wombs…
Did you mend your broken heart?
Did you really come to terms with life
when you chose not to return?
as how could one remain oblivious to your pain
to that eternal jungle scream from you
Are you still broken heart mind and soul?
I know you are not in pain anymore
But you lived~!
held onto sheer pleasure too
to fly sky-high free floating love
as the message is this
“get into the pain to release it”
you knew this
sensed the burning of things
sensation of flesh-fed fires
and yet you produced flowers
odd though they may be after churned out
of burbling of love-drowned tongues
blurred lines long distant hissing
and danger in the desert
your defence; you have none
where these subterranean places meet you
and where you grew up
still longing to invite us
to Casa Azul

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The Mag #103 “I, Once A Refusenik”

a grave at the Novodevichy Cemetery, Moscow

“I, Once A Refusenik”
You can have this bloody ruby
after you pry it from my
cold dead hands
unaware of my body
my arms stiffened with rigor mortis
somewhat riddled by stray bullets
A spy at the Politburo
Phil Meghan
noticed my concrete holes
and covered them up
not really a coverup
I, Once A Refusenik
tight weave of crystalline form
always appreciated
now just needed by those in the know
by the dead heap of the night
the nameless come
unearthed the masses
underneath me
surrounding me
they desire the very thing
I hold
all of them
needing me?
no, wanting me!
so now, go ahead,
you newly dead
just take it!
Chiccoreal
Thanks Tess Kincaid of The Mag for the inspiring image with the Russian allure. Please transit here for a glimpse behind the scenes;

Magpie #98 The River Flows Gently Smoothly Softly

Magpie #98 The River Flows Gently Smoothly Softly

Magpie #98 The River Flows Gently Smoothly Softly
The River
Flows
Gently
Smoothly
Softly
a gentle man
who sanctimoniously
crosses himself twice
before he delves into her dwelling place
as she barely reaches the river
holding onto branches
softly swaying to the sounds
of riverrocks burblings
twisting and turnings
a slip sliding of over-flow
endless streams of incoming
never held back
trying out his heel to toe stability
trying to stop the endless push by wind
waves cat paws scratch
reclaiming his property rights
eroding his power of tenacity
his backwash banks
sliding into her carried along
her swift-footed stream
mounts water pressure
erode his resolve to his earth, his soil
and then she plows through
his earthen domain
as he
genuflects
in the process
causes her edges
flickery wisps of water
without end
fundamentally
she bears down
asserting her right to resist him
to exist
this old river woman
there where two energies met
God had touched them then
right there
made them one
Earth and River
RiverEarth
first contact had been made
as rocks fused them
melding them like steel
as she refused to remember or recall
the pungent smell of ozone in the process
the night of the thunderous dark lightening
made them merge as one
communicating
waters
pray for your
powerful energies
to set the slaves free
unwound
unbound
unleashed
now formally let go into the wild rafting wilderness
released the hounds
those dogs who howl
when the water reflects the moon
dipping into the refreshing pools
of Bethesda
whose wild horse spirit
layered beneath
deep realms of consciousness
clear visions
of evergreens
lit up like a holy tree
as all is as calm surface
as one would expect
from a woman of means
who’d push these ancient waters
bubbling
over
in
and
through
the aquifer
once atrophied
his lush red clay
slathered as she slithered
her
empathetic powers
aware of every movement
every moment
every electric impulse
ephemeral spray her atomizer
brackish depths
she is an unknown
igniting her sparkling mix
of earth
sky and
firewater
utterly transformed
away
he caresses her
snake-like she
meanders like a banshee
far away
past time
past space
into the holding pattern
she of the two sisters
shores his heart
giving shelter
held in a permanent
whirlpool of twirl
holding eternity
is her element
space echoes endlessness too
the magic red canoe bobs like a life buoy
waiting her toss of hair
a spaceship
voyageur
as this he gives and she take
echoes this exchange
of divine ultra feminine
and sacred entirely masculine
pushing against swells
his thighs waded out to her
her thick brush like seaweed
and trunks of trees
she let go
and he did also
bending into her
eroding her unresolved energies
into a pool of bliss
as her majestic rivers renewed
his fullness slowly unleashed
to oh’s and awe’s
her mournful mountings
became gentle trickles of raindrops
condensed from passion’s
heaving cleaving wanton desires
that tickled her smooth touchable surface
as she closed her eyes and feel sleep
bright green and gold shafts of light
awoke her
this morning time
would
transcend her transparentness
the banks shimmering
leaving her qualifying contours
the thing about water
as it made her
cold and damp
standing there still naked in the sun
the cold breeze sent shivers down
her spiny backbone
essential river woman
shivering with emotion
now the shaking like aspens
recalled how she did convulse
the day his passion enfolded her
her body remembered now
this earth between her skin
with life of the lit sun-tipped
leaves
his energizing powers
earth man magic
snaking around her tributaries
meander hither and yon
around her maiden hair
beyond view
beyond any formal vision
love had known before
Chiccoreal

Magpie #90 Limerick Licks

image source: Google images, unknown photographer

 

Before you read any of these frantic limericks please go here for a much more sane approach to this magpie…thank-you very much! http://magpietales.blogspot.com/2011/11/mag-91.html

 

 There was an old lady from Dorset

 Who might know how to tie a corset

She loved to play this musical game

save for the chairs she sought to tame

and none of  thought anything of it

~~~~~~~

 There was an old chair from the distant past

 who thought the party would be hyper- blast

 and all dead-wood played along

soon there’d be only one left

the stupid *itch from Suffix

~~~~

 There once was a Space known as SomePlaceElse

 that didn’t know it’s arse from a hole in the ground

 as it went from here to there just grab that chair that is square

 and a silly girl quite fair none would be the wiser for it

 ~~~~~~

 When trying out a Limerick

 it be best to not think a tick

 grab a beer and a chair sit down here

 and never mind yer complainin’

 🙂

 ~~~~~~~~~

 chiccoreal