August 16, 2020. BEGIN AGAIN

– – –

"Cafe Ötüken (it's too expensive to get drunk here) by M.A.A.
It had been half an hour, still burning the tongue
a wrong move, and the stuff was streaming down
hear them laugh, target the youngest of the pact
I spit on the weakling, charges were mild
so much distortion in this place and time
that breaks a strong man to gag, to cry.

For our plantations,
above our discordant fields,
they fly wings burning.
We sit in peace and yearning,
needing to praise pretty things.

From a nearby table I heard the sabres clash
what a bitch, imperative to admit, to sigh
couldn't make much sense amidst the smash
Belet-Seri, not to scorn the name
but here it was probably the title
and not one for the sane.
The gentleman grabbed his mug, laughed
a master-dunk through the glass
rain of pieces, heartfelt shrapnel
the only emotion that day
that aroused the masses.

For our plantations,
above our discordant fields,
they fly wings burning.
We sit in peace and yearning,
he threw a knife at their shields.

The dame is alone now, torturing a tea bag
blissfully ignorant of my table’s condition
always grasping, snatching this soul back
to a pivot left by the mind's dreamy position
so I had built a black hole with mere words
cosmogony praising some Babylonish lords
image of such a flaw would scare any demon
yet I threw the cup out of the broken window
took the exit, took the coffee stained map
petty glory, petty victory, the affairs I have
they aren't with this herd, not for this land.

For our plantations,
above our discordant fields,
they fly wings burning.
We sat in peace and yearning
the map fell and decomposed.

– – –

"Insomnia" by C.G. Nelson
You lay in bed.
You were there,
Watching you clock creep
Closer to morning.
You reached out across
The bed, hoping
To grab onto something.
She is gone, of course.
She wasn’t there
To begin with.
It’s time to begin again.
As you watch the 
Sun rise in your window,
You rise also.
And you are new again.

– – –

"As Good a Place as Any" by Alberte P. Steengaard
Freshly baked bread and the smell of coffee
Strangely familiar sounds of the city rushing past
I’m thankful to the years I have spend here
Grateful for the years I was away
Inhaling new air
New air, in the same place
They have fresh bread and the coffee smell the same
But the smell is different when I smell it elsewhere

The city has changed so that everything can remain
the same
The people here are older
My people, the people who shaped me
Have now been shaped by new experiences
In my absence
We are closer now, yet our paths no longer run parallel
to each other
Now we must willingly cross paths

And where is my path, where will I go
Now that I’ve come home
My path has lead me far
And further
And now it has lead me home
A home that I have not known as such
For many years

But if everything begins at home
This could be a beginning
A new familiar path
In a changed place that has waited for me
To come home
I guess home is as good a place as any to begin

– – –

"Of Course: Begin Again" by S.J. Saighead
Spring is far too obvious,
life too deep,
and the phoenix is kitch.

It's all too familiar.
The same books, desk,
laptop and nicotine dependency.

(It's to get ahead)

The is no end,
just new beginnings
at the foot of hills. 

Each morning rising,
the same coffee and chair,
the same view of rain.

Sleep with strangers,
in different beds,
on exciting pillows.

(It's good for the head)

At the foot of hills
just new beginnings
there is no end;
only begin again.

– – –

Next exhibition theme: PANIC

Deadline: Midnight, August 29th

Submit at:

More information under ‘Submissions’ tab

Published by artisticdifferencescurator

My name is Seán and I am the creator and curator of the Artistic Differences Project. I started this project during the lockdown in Ireland due to COVID-19 in March 2020 as a way to get my friends and I creating during a troubling time. From there the project as gone from strength to strength and now we publish a new exhibition every two weeks.

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