direct communication

constantine ferreo ©1969-2024
RETURN
"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 ? 		 
back to top click here