Monday 27 January 2014

Inertia And The Hurdle

Sunny Black,
A Little Left Of The Fumbleing Doves,
Trivial Touchings AFlutter To AMass,
AMiss Amongst The Monsters At Sea...
...
The Thick Hemp Cord Strikes,
Locking The Doctrine To Spectral Knots,
Reptilian And Clicking Like Death Clocks,
InVerted To Only The Drowning Eye,
And Weather'd As The Pulling Tide...
...
...
One Lasting Laugh From The High-Chair,
When As Last Done Gasping For Air...
...
To Bang The Drum For The Spoon To Hang,
Wall-Shunted And Stunted In Growth,
Fathering Dagon's Pinkness For The Sacred Shell,
In Heaven UnDone... In Will UnSung...
...
Throwing Drink Over Shoulder With Salt And Grain,
For The Volume Of Curling Brawn WithIn Scalp And Crown,
As The Torches Sputter And Light No More...
...
The Way To Bones Scattered,
For Gamblers And Cheats,
Melted UpOn The Wounded Tooth...
...
...
Not Then BeFriended By Such A Cloven Glass Jowl,
And Yet... InTo Mirror'd AdJunction It Recedes.




(For Chloë Grace)



Saturday 25 January 2014

A Chip For Moccasin Onassis

The Badge Buckled And Swayed Under The Weight Of Naked Eyes,
Plated To The Grill And Heated From The Sit Out By The Curb,
Glinting Like Aquarium Treasure For Snorkel Eels And Coral Humpers,
It Led Its Own Bleeding Blue To The Golfer's Carpet,
At Every Turn And Stoop Spitting Phantom Glow ALong The Beige Walls,
With WhatEver Light Was Left To Luminate Memorys Of A Prom-Queened Babel,
The Lounge Wizards Stepping Closer To The Chance To Chaperone Raw Deals For House Cats,
Catching The Smears By Smudges On The Glass...
...
Deftness Left By Righteous Guts,
Never To Dull The Edge Of The Steady Pin,
Keeping Those Little Black Books In Check,
Tricks Of The Tirade To Season And Glaze The Ham,
Brick By Brick... Assumeing That Assumption Be A Walk Through The Aisle,
Through Those Shards That Stick ThemSelves Deep InTo The Fallen InStep's Flesh...
...
A Purchaseable Fetish As Any For The Bidding,
To The Grocery List Tacked OnTo ReFridgerator Madness,
With Gophers For GroundHog Days...
...
Faberge Snuff Box...Yet, With Cathedral Colossus...
...
...
White Out White Wash Kid Gloved,
The UnLoved Eventually Sift Through Gold Flakes For Proof Of Descent,
Sniffing Sober For Stitches On BaseBalls,
Signing AWay The Enigma And Accepting The Ruddy-Cheeked Charm,
Foot-Long InTo The Batting Average...
...
The Wife... Is A Bitch...
...
...
And Life... As A Pitch.











Thursday 23 January 2014

Calico 1303 oceloT

UpOn That Rocky Crag,
On High With The Founding Ghosts Of Marshes... Once To Be As Kings,
With Questions Travelling Across The Dire Breaking,
Where No Copper Could Be Thrown Up To Cover,
At Times To Eclipse And Quicken,
The RestLess Paramount AFlame... Then To Be As Rover...
...
Treading CoastLines And Then To LaundryLines,
Semaphore Sophomore Surf...
...
Waves From The TollBooths,
Loose Like MilkTeeth...
...
For Crickets To Be Ruled By Cicadas,
Examined As Patients... Willing To Escape,
From Triangles And Bermuda Shorts,
SmokeStacks And Coal-Chambers...
...
...
The Ocean Blue,
Under Bridges And Spreading As Bed-Sheets...
...
Spooling Its Thread Around Fossils Of Expectations Held Great,
Passed On By As Faces Change...
...
Those Whose Faces Change...
...
...
...
Those Faces Have Changed.













Tuesday 21 January 2014

LUX MNEMEITS INFERNALE DE CROPULUS TEMPORUM... The Camera UnObscured

Hi.

I Thought That I Would Add An Interesting Entry InTo This Blog... ASide From All The Writeing... A Collection Of My Photographs That I Had Stored AWay On Two Memory Cards For WhenEver I Deemed Worthy The Moment To Share Them To You All.

Back In 2006, I Was Liveing In Montréal... A Year After Being In Vancouver For 5 Wasted Years Of My Precious Life... And Being Ever So HomeLess I Took Up Photography (APart From Writeing) To Fill Up My Need To Maintain My Sanity And Keep MySelf Busy. I Created A Large Portfolio Of Types Meant To One Day Be Presented As A Slide Show Exhibit At An Artist Café Or Gallery.




I Dubbed My Project LUX MNEMEITS INFERNALE DE CROPULUS TEMPORUM ... AKA: The Camera UnObscured... A Series Of Pictures Taken From My Journeys As A HomeLess Man From Montréal To Ottawa To London (Ontario) And The Places In BeTwixt My Stops.

I Have UpLoaded These Photos To A Tumblr Page I Created Only For The ShowCase Of My Project.

If You Would Like To See Them This Link Will Take You There:
http://ishaolm.tumblr.com/

I Hope That You Find The Trip Through The Lens Stranger Than The Common Shutter'd Snap.

Enjoy!



-RICHARD WILLIAM KIRKPATRICK-THORNE

Monday 20 January 2014

The Pause Magentic That ReFleshes The Wandering Eye

...
Voiced Through Honey,
Simplifyed As It Sweetens,
Amber To The Touch,
To Give Form To Wandering Spirit,
Cage The Wind Fall,
Silence The Nightengale,
Shatter Innocent Peers
InTo A Captured Hierarchy,
Under No Thumb,
Though Guilded By Light Of Hand,
Resonateing Out As Echos
To No Pummeling For A Dirge,
UpOn Sanctity It Pools,
Gathering Thoughts.
...






Friday 17 January 2014

All Was At Odds With An Evening At Io's

The Mouth Of The World Is Gnashing Its Teeth,
Questioning Former Mountain Gods And Their Animal Scientists,
It Licks At The Partitions BeTwixt Nimbostratus And Nebulae For Falling Stars To Lactate Nocticulent,
Crying Nacreous Trails For Those Of Sacred Tails To Tuck Underneath...
...
...
Woe To Those Who Sniff At The Earth In An UnDieing Dedicateion To AWaken Chronos,
To Beg And Suture FaultLines While Stealing From A Charitable Testicle,
As Io Rides A Quicker Fuck Than Allowed By Temple-Whore Standards,
To Begin Man's Future SaltLess With Stallions For Chariots... Detesting The SubCulture,
Grinding At The Bit... Polarity... With Her Learned Instruction For Guideing And Rotateing...
...
The Mouth Of The World Now Roars As Lions... It Stomps With Its Molars To Shift LifeTimes,
PactLess And Perforated As It Seethes For Islands To Rise From Under The Oceans...
...
...
Bathers In The Melting Firmament... Dinosaurs Dressed In The Midas Touch,
Even As Blackened Hands Have Hammered UpOn Anvils For Helmets To Cover What Wax Could Not,
The Tongue Steals NoThing That The Beatened Pathos Can Stall From ItSelf,
To InStill A Desire InTo The Crux Of Matter...
...
To UnDesire Revolution And UnRotate The Dreams Of Serpents From The WatchFull Orbits Above;
But What If... By Some Stranger Sting Of Circumstance... She Chooses Her Man From No Such Origins...?
...
...
...
To Break The World... And Make It Froth At Her Feet?









Friday 10 January 2014

What To Do When Faced With Touring WithIn The Bones Of Ancient Red Whales

Blended InTo The Foliage,
The Stick-Figured Spinster Amongst NightTime Mosses,
Old Men Worn Torn Lay EnTangled Cradled In The Roots,
Too Exhausted To Claw Out From The Obscure Damp Chill,
FingerNails Like Petals Scattered In The Deep,
Yet To Tempt The Empty In Spaces Where Eyes Once Blinked,
Clinking Like Familiar Keys For Grooves To Guide The Shakeing Hand,
Kerosene A Century AWay...
...
But With Wax And String,
Candle And Wick... And Then Sweat Can Be Wiped From The Worryed Brow,
Another Step AWay From That Cold Ringed Cellar Door,
To Associate That By A Foot's Measure To The World Beyond The Grave,
Inky Thresholds Pouring Like Windowless Tapestrys To Trap InTent,
Widows AWait For Their NeedleCraft To Tap ALong The Creaking Borders,
With A Ball Of Tilted Silk To UnRavel A Road InTo The Center...
...
Only To Reveal HedgeRows To The Mender,
Clippings Needed For Exits And Entrances,
Arches... Twists... Round-ABouts... Dead Ends... And Fountains...
... 
Yes... Most Importantly... The Fountains,
For To Arrive At One Is To Seek The Next Wonder...
...
...
Be It To Open The Gate BeTwixt Loops,
Or To Shutter At The Thought Of Dry Mouthings...
...
...
Wrinkles In The Forest Floor.






Sunday 5 January 2014

The UnEvitable Nature Of InVitation

All Through The Way Back To Where The Opening Of Different Palls Drive,
To Be Borne UpOn The Shoulders Like Warmth In Tides,
The Blooded Bond That Lay BeHind The Walk To Granite And UpTurned Souls,
Printing Scars WithIn The Last Image Remembered,
Telling No Suffering To The Ring-Bearer Nor Flower-Girl,
While The Waiting Manifests In Parched Hands To Arid LandScapes,
A Difference Of Opinion As An Opiate To The Pupils...
...
With Its UnRetractable Laws Of Attraction...
...
In Class... The Desks Stacked And Kept To The Walls,
With The Chairs And Teaching Implements For Rudimentary Elements...
...
It Is All Rudimentary... In The Shaded Dust Under The Shelves,
A Weaver's Domain While The Rain Falls OutSide The Sand Castle's Gate,
To Follow With Brief Flashes Of Lightning...
...
...
Hugs And Kisses... A Stroke To Calm The Coat Of Dogs,
Remains UnDone With Neglect Threatened With The Chewing Need Of Jaws,
Fated For An Urban Catacomb To Sort Out Balding Legal Nourishment From The Worm Food,
Photographed By Professionals For Use In Future Wreathed DisPlacement...
...
...
...
The Tungsten Still Burns Bright,
As Another Prayer Hits The Rafters From Its Methodic Clasp To Ride,
Mop Slung AGainst The Drying Wall... In Its Pail...
...
Its Long Shadow Like A Finger... Running Its NeverEnding Stretch Across Another Face...
...
UnInvited It Rests And Listens As The Rain Drops Beat The Window's Pane.










Friday 3 January 2014

My Day Job Pays The Bills

This Morning For Glory
I Nearly Bumped My Head,
And Stayed In Bed,
A Drunken Slide Through The Black Velvet,
InTo The Gentle AfterLife,
Where I Would Have Found MySelf In Dungarees,
Walking Down A Trusted Country Road,
Where All The Trees Look The Same No Matter What Season,
Deer Tracks In The Fresh Mud Off To The Sides...
...
For Hunters Not Hounds...
...
...
A FarmHouse At The End Of The Trodden Rut,
And My Wife(?) With Her Hand Waveing Me InTo The Calming Baked Bread Breeze,
Past A Tractor Needing Fixing And An Old Tire Swing...
...
Oh, My Son(?) Pitches Balls Through That Thing...
...
What Year Is It AnyWays?
...
...
A Corn Field Grows Ragged And Tattered,
Around Me... Around This Life(?)... The Field Is Subject To Cycles For Harvesting,
Crows Cawl BeTwixt The HenHouse Cluckings,
SunSets And SunRises Heralded By Birds Of A Feather,
SomeTimes I Would Stare At The Bright Bulb On The Patio And Watch Moths...
...
One Of These Days A Moth Is Going To Break Through That Blazeing Hot Glass
And Fertilize The Egg,
My Wife Knowing My Thoughts Laughs At The Idea And Kisses The Top Of My Head,
As She Mutters SomeThing About Hell Opening Wide...
...
...
Then We Both Laugh...
...
The Next Day,
Who Knows...? I Could Take Jimmy To His BaseBall Diamond,
Out There... The Field By His School,
Help Him Practice His Pitches,
Take A Break...Sit Down With A Packet Of Beef Jerky And Two Bottles Of Dr. Pepper,
A Five Minute Moment Of MeaningFull Silence Between Us...
...
Just BeFore I Point At That Tree Growing By ItSelf,
On The OutSkirts Of The School Grounds,
Ominous And Fruit-Laden...
...
And I Tell My Son,
"Jimmy, You See That Tree Over There? Well... You Can Eat Any Fruit You Choose From It. BUT... WhatEver You Do, Stay AWay From The Fruit Growing On That Golden Bough! Cause If You Dare Eat From That Bough, You Shall Certainly Know That You Are Dead!"