October 26, 2020. CHAOS

– – –

"Too Bright in the Mist" by M.A.A.
 I. Calamity
 Away, away, they took up running, one remained
 gang nailed the doors like it was the year-before
 after and all, insulted and seduced 
 into conscription, a continental fizzle
 please understand this riddle
 when a door is closed
 the others are welded 
 like the youth kicks out the slow
 to fake a distress, avoid being levered
 hate to admit, but it's all for the show
 like emotions, images of the subject
 tend to follow fraudulent crusaders
 so often diaphanous in their adventures
 mass burning orchards like they were insects
 but let us stop the frame, stop the scene
 why are you here? leave the flames
 give us a pause, look at the screen
 ignore what the crickets have seen
 they told you and you didn't listen
 some prophets are here to shiver
 we just want to get rid of our livers
 II. Clarity
 war is fun when it’s done in peace
 the leftover now looks under the lid
 stability embodies lack of vibrations
 fine to get dragged in muddy aspirations 
 hesitantly through weird ranks 
 furiously along the brown banks
 plant the grains of affectionate warmth
 and chirp in the language of moths
 whoever hears this may stick to this gift
 even if Mother Nature isn't for her sons
 even if your presence isn't the one to sit
 by the fields of her benevolent guns
 you will still find it all too bright
 too bright in the mist
 III. Chaos
 finally, there comes a feeling of numbness
 the clouds dance and bath in their highness
 over the mountains at the gorge on Yangtze
 and I have seen them, and -
 what now?
 what is there left to see,
 who is there left to meet?
 and where was I
 before it all went to –
“Too Bright in the Mist” by M.A.A.

– – –

"a distant guardian angel" by Linda M. Crate
 he has carved such chaos
 into my heart with his
 they say good things
 come to those who wait,
 but i've waited all my life;
 i've wished on shooting stars
 prayed and prayed and prayed some more—
 i only see my father's face in dreams,
 but he always evades me;
 as soon as i see him he is gone like a vampire 
 burned by the sun there is nothing left
 not even ashes—
 but he always watches me in my dreams
 like a distant guardian angel
 who made some vow of distance;
 perhaps he's otherworldly and promised 
 he'd never tell what i truly am—
 but i already know i am not of this world,
 and i wish he would free my wings
 because i wish to fly like him;
 i wonder why this fae father won't let me use my magic. 

– – –

"Times of Chaos" by S.J. Saighead
Once upon a time, a long time ago...
There was tangible unites of time
on which one could cling,
falling one by one like a drop
from a leaky tap. You could
set your watch to the days passing,
one by one in uniform lines
like armies, passing on by
on their way to unknown wars.

I sit day after day in this flat
which I don't own,
At my little wooden desk
which I do own,
and I go back to the ever
depleting well to try to
force what scraps I can onto
the page, barely having the energy
to lift my pen.

Each day, each week, each month,
each second, each minute, each hour,
blurring into one, ghastly unit
of unknowing timelessness. 

They say six weeks and we know
that's a lie. They say a year or two
but who can care anymore? It just goes
on and on,
on and on,
on and on,
And I'm just trying to have
the time of my life. 

– – –

Next exhibition theme: Saints and Sinners

Deadline: Midnight, November 8th

Submit at: artisticdifferencesproject@gmail.com

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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