Remember

Swan, 2017 — Louis Carreon

 

Remember


You enticed with your light
Refused capture in silhouette
Front and center, full throttle
Even the pitch-black feared
The luminescent evil you exuded
Your siren pose
Plié between 3rd and 4th
Positioned your patrons perfectly
Your featureless face
Twisted smile of demeanor:
Paris under the occupation
Cruel tilt to a coveted almond shape
The pulp, bitter and biting
Hid your two left feet well
As it did your religion
Your own form of high yellow:
The Gentile Ashkenazi
You, Eva Braun and Stella Kübler
Kissing cousins
Thought no one would know
The repulsion of caustic betrayal

 

“Betrayal is the only truth that sticks.”
— Arthur Miller


Marlon Brando – “Paul Monologue Last Tango in Paris

 

Copyright © 2018 Mia Pharaoh. All rights reserved.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

Revival

Sylvia Plath (October 27, 1932 – February 11, 1963). Photographer Unknown

 

Revival
Death of a Messenger

A never-ending performance
Of the darkest night
Has its swan song
With vapid glee
The black curtain’s enormity
Comes down
To an ovation, withstanding
The joys of life
Culminating in pulpit suits
Hats and bourbon
Decent and indecent
Upright and lipstick
Face down and flat out
Clouds of camphor and hypocrisy
Waft through stale air
As ghosts in need
Slip through cracks
Empty-handed, giftless
Greeting Gods
On the other side of tomorrow

 

“I am terrified by this dark thing that sleeps in me.”
― Sylvia Plath, The Collected Poems


Sylvia Plath reading ‘
A Birthday Present * *

 

Copyright © 2018 Mia Pharaoh. All rights reserved.

 

The Understudy

Ellen Rogers Photography

 

The Understudy

Waiting for sleep to take hold
My mind circles like vultures
Canvassing for a carcass
I scribe myself in line and lifelines
Glossy black and blue
Over flat white: hesitant and anemic
I swing like a bladed pendulum
Between false certainty
And self-doubt while wondering
If I’m my own greatest creation
My own worst critic
Or my own careless curator
Stumbling in awkward curtsy
Trading secrets for currency

 

“The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.”
― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath *

 

For more about photographer Ellen Rogers please click on the link to visit the wonderfully surreal world of Mr. Cake to see his post, Bewitched.

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Copyright © 2018 Mia Pharaoh. All rights reserved.

 

Gesture of Surrender

Au Revoir — Photograph by Mia Pharaoh

 

Gesture of Surrender

I collected
Dust as years
It served me well
A buffer
Protecting everything
Real or otherwise
Compressed
A token

 

“Never say goodbye because goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting.”
― J. M. Barrie, Peter Pan


Oskar Schuster – “
Sedmikrásky                                                                              .* *

 

Copyright © 2018 Mia Pharaoh. All rights reserved.

 

Crapshoot

Man Ray Self-portrait

 

Crapshoot
100 Words

Ooh la la, this photo is to die for, even if I do say so myself. It’s all about you, you, you. What about me? You’re brilliant, a diamond in the rough, running circles around me while I clean a loaded gun with my right hand, count barbiturates with my left, wondering if I have time to swallow them all before the hammer hits the firing pin. Choking down dry pills, no water, coughing furiously I hit my forehead on the table, accidentally pulling the trigger, missed by the bullet, clarity arrives. Not to worry, I’m every shade of okay.

 

“I have been accused of being a joker. But the most successful art to me involves humor.”
― Man Ray


A Short film by Man Ray — “
Poison                                                               *

 

Copyright © 2018 Mia Pharaoh. All rights reserved.

 

Half Nelson

Call Of Duty  — Artist Mitch Griffiths

 

Half Nelson


He was the unknowable
He was the ever shallow pool of liquid amber
He was the clink of ice, the red booths
He was the motels, the Murphy beds, the naps
He was the driver, never the talker
He was the ageless, the timeless
He was the smoothness of face, for it never moved
He was the invisible, yet he was the visible
He was the walking wounded
He was the wakeful dead

 

“The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him.”
― G.K. Chesterton                                                                                                        
Drive

Video — “Mitch Griffiths, The Promised Land                                                      Frail

Original Post July 18, 2016

Marrow’s Mediocrity

Photographer — Francesca Woodman

 

Marrow’s Mediocrity
100 Words

Having met life’s fate in the winter of my youth, I’ve lived my passions in pursuit of the truth. Stigma and fear jailed my beliefs, keeping my love under lock and key, found near starvation in rags of hand-me-downs, sucking on pebbles to silence the hunger, blocking the ritual: speaking in tongues. Necromancy of the resurrection, all memories have since fallen away, swirling as leaves on a tempestuous day. Vacant lots of strange-strangers: the half-past dead, unknowing stand-ins for what’s ahead. While waiting for the Four Winds to carry me away, I’m wondering — what’s the weight of a human soul?

 

“I doubt, therefore I think, therefore I am.”
― René Descartes

Hindi Zahra – “
Don’t Forget

 

Needle & Thread

Photographer Ilse Bing — Poster, Henry VIII, 1934

 

Needle & Thread
The Glue That Binds Us


Charred sentiment dispensed
The remains of our days,
Spent: cleaved away
As leaves torn of paper.

Distant memories engaged
The feeble free fall
End over end;
Tumbled as pigeons
Latched together
With arms open.
We headed towards
Eliot’s perpetual April;
Never gave thought
To the tire of love.
Youth’s newness: blind elation
Staved off the wolves of reality.
Salt of the earth
Took leave, our loss;
We pushed the pieces forward.

Soiled uniforms
Dressed in suits of grace,
Cumbersome and too large,
We traced our paths
Again and again;
With dogged determination
We dragged ourselves

Through foot worn ruts.
In the end, we realized
There would be no phoenix
To rise f
rom the ash.

 

“It may have been in pieces, but I gave you the best of me.”
― Jim Morrison


Hindi Zahra – “At The Same Time”                                                    
Transformation

 

And So It Is

Lee Miller photographed by Man Ray

 

And So It Is


There exists something different, strange and mysterious today. I can smell the stillness, perhaps it’s the uncertainty of the known. I blink, accepting an invitation to an alternate reality. I blink again, I can no longer discern what material is, I assure myself it’s of no importance. An indescribable release floods my being, I let go of all attachments that anchor me to a realm of light and dark. There’s a weightlessness found in this saturated calm, like the air after a good hard rain. I feel more alive than ever, the perpetual violet twilight smiles down on me. With grace I push-off, fully immersing myself, slipping silently into the visible abyss of everything and nothing. No longer blinking, I forget all that came before this moment.

 

“Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely.”
― Edna St. Vincent Millay

Henry Halloway reads, “A Dream Within a Dream” by Edgar Allan Poe.       Zing!