THE TYRANNY OF POETRY-KONOSFER

"THE TYRANNY OF POETRY" ©1969-ongoing...
medusa 120x120cm acrylic on canvas	myth #8 70x50cm tempera on paper	lamentation for the loss of harvest 70x50cm tempera on paper
I am here and now, why and how? then and there subconsciously aware where am I? I belong to a race but you can't see my face I am standing upright but can't see at night what am I? I have forgotten my name while exploring my brain I don't have any claim and I feel no more pain who am I? I am here and now, why and how? then and there subconsciously aware	When I was in shine you spat on my face a test to my craft : can you draw a straight line ? When I grew to be fair you voiced a task to my craft : can you draw the shadow of a flare ? When I learned to be true you demanded a reason : can you draw the absence of influences that separates reality from you ? Well, over and under I've checked the truth, the flare, the shine and now I'm prepared to draw : a bottle of wine.	What do you do when there is no space to move when all is too small and nothing is fragile and old (you go down below the ground) what do you do when there is no rhyme in tune when all seems so square even though you care (you go down in a familiar frown) what do you do when there is no distance to grasp and everything shrinks to a drop of a bitter thought (you go down and in loneliness bound)
mount athos photograph	union 40x100cm digital print	looking at heights 80x100cm acrylic on canvas
I said: free.... and the wind took the word to an island large enough to sustain the rough sea strong enough to hold mountains of stone wide enough to contain the tears of the storm warm in form sweet in wine this island I want to make mine as a monument to the freedom of my mind	I am attempting to memorize love to grasp and gently bring into my mind a memory I want it to be love in this space and time I want love to grow like a bird in the heights of the sky I want love of the pure kind something that can shake me and make me memorize a memory that I knew but forgot in space and time a memory that remains with me when I fly even when I fly I want to remember love	I dreamed I saw myself looking at height at distance, at light, I saw a beam of the sun piercing the sky, I felt the struggle of energies exploring their plight in the night, I saw a shadow above clothed in my body, I sensed a gravity detaching my legs from their ground, I felt my arms spreading out into a cloud, I talked aloud, I said : movement of wings become fluid like sound ! But nothing happened, and the darkness surrounding this distance was filled with no presence and likewise no future existence, I dreamed seeing something in place of nothing, and yet, I dreamed my flight.
missing 80x100cm acrylic on canvas	myth #6 120x120cm acrylic on canvas	summit 100x120cm acrylic on canvas
Sometimes I ask myself: from where? to where? but I find no answer other than the question Then I ponder the dice: ace comes twice but I find no numbers from distance to further Somehow I said to you since when? and why? but I found you nowhere 'cause your presence was absent Then again sometimes here or there I remember: when and why? twice you left me behind: where?	From sound to sight my life is tight when feeling is peeling the layers of an artichoke from fight to light my action is bright when thinking is bringing the presence of an artichoke from flight to plight my innocence is at a height when willing is spilling the juice of an artichoke from songs to almighty my wish is at night when loving is crying the absence of an artichoke	on the summit of the mountain there is a fire burning it is swirling and turning a fire is burning the colors emitted are in brightness shining when the fire is burning the brightness is shinning encircling that luminous plane the water is flowing the fire is burning while the water is flowing where the contact of fluid comes in touch with the flames the fire is glowing when water is burning fire is glowing this cosmic extraction is clouds producing where the flames touch liquid the clouds produce an endless background of hues in magenta and yellow....
strikes in the sky 50x50cm photo collage	photograph of the moon	dusk of light 100x100cm acrylic on canvas
I heard while I sat on the floor the sound of time rocking like a chair in despair for a life that's not there a life that's not there I saw without looking so clearly at the luminous sky lightening shuttered the space of high showing colors and lines over colors were lines I felt this image of time fragmented my senses left my fears behind about ground or sky ground or sky Then I said don't take away the sound of time from my sight I say don't take away this sound of time from my sight	I draw a line straight direct it is mine it is filling my time I draw a line dividing the bottle from the wine a line peeling the essence of a rhyme I draw a line forward upward downward does not matter I am fine and I draw a line thin precise a line clear with no fear extracting life that is mine no border wasting shapes that are mine does not matter ! I draw a line.	At the dusk of light when life becomes a shadow I risk my memory to a dream and a trick At the moment in space when dust covers my face I exchange clarity for a dream and a trick At that peculiar repetition of time when day meets night or else dark encounters light I practice a dream and a trick : I forget
	atoms 70x50cm digital print
	We are the misfit children, remaining rebels of a revolution that never happened. We are dreamers in a firing universe, our life hangs on a thread. We are bicker beasts born with beaks, when our brother wears a nose. We are the highest flight of fantasy, control towers and runways are not meant for us. We are the prologue and the interlude of palmistry, fake magicians cannot preach us. We are prodigal youths, no mother or father can ever claim us. The label of our humanity is engraved on our forehead. We are the kind of natural phenomenon that could never accomplish its mission. We are the thirteenth sign of the zodiac, closest relatives to Zarathustra. Further, further away take me fantasy into your infinite curb of the parabola. Who can identify our actions as spontaneity ? Who will recall our intimacy as love? What weight can balance the pride of our soul ? We are we, alone, beyond the barriers of solitude, The energy of our striving reflects the memory of time, The light of our earthly uniform enlarges the outer edge of space, We are not many, We are one. And, yes, We are the punishment of Sisyphus, the divine abstract reason, the absolute elsewhere, the tears, the sweat, the scorn, we are, we are, we are.... Who are we ?
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