Fragile Plates

Giorgio di Chiricho

Down the fifty drawn vacuum pipes
His last run was timed out
It made him drown up the sacred crown
Longing for glory again
Nothing got swayed – nothing of note
Tired of the decrepit drone ballads
He took a trip lying down in an oval-shaped plain
In the next life it would be a sapphire bowl
Of purple fruit low hanging in cryptic labyrinths
The gutter bites
The knife and then the swipes
Locked doors and slashed faces
Ships re-built in bombed out yards
The grain now the high gain
The shooting crafts on mercy street
The brawls of crimson faded grey
Distraught lovers laugh
Even though it is no game
Crazy hearse-chamber minds
Sabotaging time
Like a miner dealt the worst hand
His next mission is to kill now the thrill is botched
Until the lever breaks
And all kings, paupers, astronauts and pitchforks
Are strewn on a level field of play

 

By Nicholas Peart

Written on 2nd May 2018

(c)All Rights Reserved 

 

Image: Painting by Giorgio de Chirico

 

All Strong In A Silent Plain

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Lion channels low under solemn crow glides

the real beast crashing too hard

I saw marks all over the parish floor

the uniform conformed emotion

risks like snake bites

an area of fear untouched

perhaps locked for eternity

as ever I see death in countless eyes

I muster all physical and mental strength to pray

and on top in the most tender of ways

spiritual inter-cosmic multitasking

until my brain collapses and candles surround me

an unusual death to dwell on

where grains have no meaning and screams are forever muted

love vanishing to the naked eye

but to the third eye only so much one can stand

it cannot be but walking on air with his breath the key

all signals unfurl and unleash the dreams of golden days

but journeys back can rock the core too much

even if all risks must stain and fear be embraced.

Arms to fruitless mother milk

with four white pristine horses ready to glow a shade of bright blinding white

an eclipse purity

my loving sometimes got in the way

and my chains were my companions in disguise

my dangerous impulses not so strong anymore

purple skies appear when they want

but every phenomenon is a more profound gift

my new responsibility is to sharpen my listening

my most cherished love

I am here and I won’t bolt

by my bedside my heart and refreshed brain wait

I have nothing but time

To read our lines

our back spaces

these holy chests most people bury

mine are in the public domain

don’t be scared and don’t try

after all

everybody makes tunnel love

but many make war light-bright

private love

public war

a duality of insanity

a unity of nothing

I shut my eyes and roll to the next day

every meaningful marble with me always

tall lightweight pendulum rocks

each swing a new interval

but my mind is a landscape the same as it ever was

I don’t leave the hill

I feign no emotion

like a statue still

only the pouring acid rain can shift me

yet electric minds can fix and propel me

all the while pouring out the hole

old laws applied to obtuse staccato barrel drones

no motion

for the fuel to rise above the needle of colour-sound

the brakes are off

multiple claw-ladders await and before I ask the first top-sphere question

I become part of the full uni-vertigo trip

top bop-trad-time-forte

meta-moves (a web of new coordinates)

all strong in a silent plain

 

by Nicholas Peart

17th January 2016

©All rights reserved

Image: Driftwood (2012) by Nicholas Peart

Life File

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In the limited train of life
all eyes point to invisible glory
a self conquest over great city fires
along the tow-line never straight
inside I watch and photograph
with my bloodstream the current
then I bend down to salvage a fresh severed leaf
turning it inward
I waste no energy
I let the wind, the sun and the rain speak
in this way the connection is made
kingdoms dissolve whilst spirits lift or crash
no dice required
only a clean mind and a warm heart
then it can start all over in a white room
and not overloaded in a junk shop
now the prized question is asked;
how can the unconscious shine brighter?
and the conscious be dimmed?
or;
how can the dark be killed?
and let there only be light?
all files should be minded
all sides of life relished
killing one for the other
then you must return to the core and try harder my friend
too much light blinds
in darkness there can be energy
restoration
savouring and making the dark your ally only makes light more delightful
and life of more value
precious
like the air we breathe and the water we drink

 

by Nicholas Peart

Written: 19th January 2016

©All Rights Reserved

Image: Equator Line (2014) by Nicholas Peart
Location: Macapá, Brazil

Acceptance

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In the grinder (growth stage) room
unrested but still on the pulse and breath
my uneven face stares beyond the vanishing point
my amygdala overworked in an unrequited sweatshop way
sounds of random degrees
big boil messes on ruptured lands
longing for England’s greenest fields
yet turning your back on it’s rotting core
but this begs the question;
has it changed or have I changed?
has the light inside of me gone bankrupt?
in the most dense of doubt I pull the plug out of my brain until tomorrow
a new day;
always a gamble
yet on a new day
love can be king again
sometimes my imagination and sense of wonder are all I have
yet when the wolves of this mental arena are singing
I feel like nothing can stand in my way
sharp blinding sparks dart
in the middle form show
as the next stem grows
and poison paths trick
life’s complexities hum
yet why cry?
if adventure is your calling?

A broken note ripples
as others slide and burn out
my eyes fall on the final act
before the curtains close all systems;
of varying degrees of harmony
the temptation to run explodes
but why am I running?
what and whom am I running from?
who am I?

I crawl the floor
fragments of my broken cup surround me
I don’t have the strength to mend it
as I drift into the white
and sleep til kingdom come

A torn burnt sky appears
the beat of life goes on
then the sun blesses other corners
dogs keep barking
low clouds hold on
my grass a modest hue of green
yet this side is very gentle
I smile and wish the best for all
my body and mind 500 stations from the haywain

 

by Nicholas Peart

21st January 2016

(All rights reserved)

Image: Water Lily Pond (after Monet) (2014) by Nicholas Peart
Location: Nieuw Amsterdam, Surinam

Cryptomania

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I wrote this rap back in June this year at a cafe somewhere in Amsterdam. At the time there was a lot of renewed interest in cryptocurrencies and prices were beginning to spiral out of control (and continue to this very day with Bitcoin having just reached an all time new high of over $10,000!!). Below is my rap inspired by all things crypto…

 

I bought a bunch of Bitcoin
at da top of da tree
But my boy Daryl bought
when it was almost free
Coz Daryl got da skills
He know when to make da kill
I am a Johnny come lately
Always beggin outside Macy’s
All I wanna do is make it
I accidentally always fake it
Me n Maceo always look
To Daryl D da crook
Tappin all that homie knows
Thinkin bro it’s gonna blow

Cryptomania
A world of insania
Cryptomania
Extendin to Asia
Cryptomania
And all da pain in ya
Cryptogamia
When da prices go up!!!

Then one day da bubble burst
I’m thinkin yo I got it the worst
I bought all the way at da top
Got one hell of a mess to mop
Now I am slammin on doors
N clutching at straws
Rappin to all n sundry
Hustling like a real numpty
When I tell em the price I bought
They reply I am a chump worth naught
Now I am diggin through all my thoughts
Asking; What have you every caught?
Any gold any silver?
Or fools rock n fake guilders?

Cryptomania
A world of insania
Cryptomania
Extendin to Asia
Cryptomania
And all da pain in ya
Cryptogamia
When da prices go up!!!

 

By Nicholas Peart (AKA N P-ART)

Written in June 2017

©All Rights Reserved

Hellhound On Ma Trail

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Gotta keep movin
Don’t slow down
Gotta keep on movin
No time to slow down
Muthafuckin blues fallin down like hail homie…

Gotta go gotta go
Can’t go with the flow
My minds a twisted vine
All messed up n grime
I was told that bus was mine
And the whole thing would be fine
All set up to reel and fly
In that great gig in da sky
Where Robert n Lemon n Lead
All words said
Rest their heads
All the pain all the dread
Robert’s my crossroad boy
That guitar weren’t some damn toy
N the pen was more mighty than the sword
Yet soon u be cryin’ for dat lord
In that time I saw
What become of thee
At da crossroads wit da devil
An off da wall level

There’s a hellhound on ma trail
Burnin white hot off da dail
Knockin down walls n doors
Always beyond da law
There’s a hellhound on my trail
Wreckin me up in style
I can’t get no sleep
Leavin me too deep

Brother go brother don’t blow
Put it out and show ’em how
Box them demons underground
Let dat doubt n anger fully drown
Think of life as one great chess board
Your pawns are diamonds on a stress board
No need to hustle you don’t need to
Don’t fall down on jerk-offs to feed you
When you were growing in them fields
So much mess no time for seeds
To sow and snowball all to deal
Another day to get real
All dat Satan stuff one big illusion
To justify all your confusion
And when you’re new n reborn
In the eye of this storm
You return to Son n Will
They like ‘shit that man plays ill!!
Little then did they know
Meet the new boss fully grown

There’s a hellhound on ma trail
Burnin white hot off da dail
Knockin down walls n doors
Always beyond da law
There’s a hellhound on my trail
Wreckin me up in style
I can’t get no sleep
Leavin me too deep

Now I am lyin’ in a field
Tumbling and groanin
Stoned outta my mind
My time is down to fade out clicks
All them chicks used me for kicks
Said, ‘daddy play me one more lick’
These last moments now I am sick
I am losing track n all
But my spirit won’t fall
You’re gonna miss me when I am gone
You’re gonna miss me now the king is gone
But he ain’t forgotten
This is the story of Robbie J
On some other star still burning real bright.

 

By Nicholas Peart

In memory of Robert Johnson (1911-38), the King of the Mississippi Delta Blues

Written: June and November 2017

©All Rights Reserved

 

Only You

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The uni-vow
no sacred hill needed
no prominent monument
only you
and the you inside of you
the message stays the same
and the sharp neon points remain to be found
all a quest but seldom in vein
by the end fame and glory are of no hold
the process and the filth and the fire and the heat;
are the gains of wild imagination
the friendly ghosts and faithful angles of truth and beauty
of song and dance
measures and corners shot
the limit snapped
tall tree sanctuaries
tall tellers
smoothing the way from blue
polishing the dirt
making a full body and gem of you

 

by Nicholas Peart

24th January 2016

(All rights reserved)

 

Image: Electric Blue (after Dan Favin) (2013) by Nicholas Peart

Long Ago On Differing Paths

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Long ago on differing paths
by my torched chest and pierced side
black blood in high pressure jets
past the sacred bend
my love up on the endless roof
plateau smashing and attention grabbing
all rubbed to meet the grade
how we could talk in these tones
his sharp teeth boned-proof
in a silent faded space
nothing overgrown stands in our way
lathed light bolts potent;
great happiness clues
from me to you

 

by Nicholas Peart

21st March 2016

©All rights reserved

 

Image: The Last Stand Of The Claw Relics (2015) by Nicholas Peart

 

 

Funeral Pyres Of Fantastic Disguise

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Through different glass slides of my existence
bailout blackout days
in hand with garden delights
or is it my mind that sets the controls?

We instinctively and without thinking and awareness
say something is good or bad
delicious or rotten
beautiful or ugly
a gas or unbearable
but is this all in our minds?

Holy dove prayers
shut books and creased faces
kicked boxes with emotion wires
multi foliate metropolises
growth mistaken for regression
hollow fame and smokey dreams
psychedelic views colour the air

All the more inside
it had cherished it’s time
where ‘no’ is the elusive ring
and hard wheat with strand strength
smashed the platinum gates.
The doors wretched…
unclear love in translucent light
cheap happiness in false time
higher planets turn and abandon cries
from ages left behind
the strong bounce of new horizons
future creatures bent on banishment than beauty
the higher stairs stand strong
all cravings pulse then whimper
small blossoms of victory for all
familiar shadows of humble high connection matter
stewed flights of envied fancy;
nothing but a fool’s pool
a come-down calling;
clunked in over-observed glitter dust
the light trick the eternal life trick
reality a mundane non stop silence
most noise an illusion and loss temptation
a distraction from un-heeded space;
the stage when the body and mind never felt so free
and this a freedom so simple to acquire
the complex low-conscious wading an unnecessary test
I hope someday the next level comes to you

Electric calm
a yield never coasting
an overflowing love
a fume box
clean seeds of future worlds
in a wonder-belt wall
old sound in stupored city squares
the glows crush down and morph
to funeral pyres of fantastic disguise

 

by Nicholas Peart

1st February 2016

©All rights reserved

 

Image: The Garden Of Earthly Delights (1495-1505) by Hieronymous Bosch

In

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In spite of you it still begins
washed up poor excuse
of a broken melody on trial
same discarded view

in pairs we let it grow
abandon faded leisure
for an instant filthy pleasure
a different point of view

in time it stands up tall
relishing the thoughts below
of overthrown mistaken virtue
beneath the distant dews

in woven masks on prairie nights
at eighteen in the crowd
forgetting need to be
underneath it all was you

 

by Nicholas Peart

Taken from the poetry collection In Arctic Measure (2004-7)

(All rights reserved)

 

Image: Nude In The Sun (1875) by Pierre-Auguste Renoir