The line look feel a blackest point stand back think reflect…
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A poem Todays experience: The Unexpected gallery
The unexpected Gallery
The curiosity is turned on,
Without faltering step,
I stride.
admire on entry.
A visual vacuum before me
in… connected
what is before me
HIV positive,
printed on fabric,
shouting loud.
PRICKING!
PRICKING!
yes my conscious
like a 1985 ventilate
The eyes they talk to me.
In a corridor of black
printed words confuses
isolate.
A great pretender
remembered
by a real intender
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outlook/lookout
Smelling salts provoke senses
make me watch,
make me Stair,
as the ballet is performed.
;
Up,
Pirouette,
Stretch,
Bettering.
;
The Humbug sheen
pulls you to its fulcrum
in and in,
deeper.
;
Again playing,
moving your mind.
Pockets rise as it breath before me
reaching far returning near.
;
A Line so long straight
like a taught table lace.
Only when you look so far
does evolving stop.
;
Dark gray lightens
as black mass encroaches
still tight, but moulded angular
Does it come to great
Like this:
Where’s My?
One day till out
I feel there eyes
cutting me in too
like a thaw of winter sun
I try, I learn,
I am the fixed target fueling the distance
Maybe a different posture
I try to be warm
to the cold shoulder
I want to leave this home
Alone…
By Alan Whitfield 2012
In Reply,
oh the plums
four days gone
of a date sold
Breakfast alone
I sat and thought
How you make them sweater
The bitter taste
has gone
Fading like our Memories!
By Alan Whitfield 2012
Like this:
Green the pyramid waves in the wind.
Its hours count down.
The leaves left, looking up,
at the naked pole.
Felling, as the dragon dons its third crown.
Euphoric felling as the task dawns
This mast is heavy.
The Beacon Move,
stones trap mapping lines,
as the brow tight cries,
the pivot raw,
momentum challenged,
yet un-hindered.
the shock of the mass eye that misses.
Deflects the misguided heckle,
In front the old bar gone,
complete the new wood.
in place…
By Alan Whitfield 2012
Like this:
Four months
Watching videos cast on a fast hold wall
axing at pulp to carry
alone I walk the room abhorred
challenged inner and outer soul
my making or off the path
dirt on nails skin torn
that smell wont leave
am I advancing or do I deceive
mental sanctuary a place to emend
I fell in love with a shaft of light
polish up well as a nervous smile
As ever the Teflon kernel…
By Alan Whitfield 2012
Like this:
A light so bright black would shine,
lodged in the corner.
A science awaits the oncoming, calculate time
Ridged! Out stretched trolley hold
Smelling clean the untouched uniform is tied.
A pen mark, a line.
Skin splits…
Like a conductor keeping time.
Time ticks slow…
Eyes scatter the space leaving the subject alone.
Burning hair greats the pneumatic scream.
Oblivious a smile?
Glue and staples and a stitch in time.
Lungs exfoliating air
As if it was me lay there.
By Alan Whitfield 2012
Like this:
It followed me for a long time
In a straight line
Never catching as it bends
Dancing, growing, syncing…
Retracting
Forming its self to what it sees
Its un seen movements
Only change by the hour
It works for free with non control
Only the man who refracts its power
Its pictures so black
By Alan Whitfield 2012
