This is a student short film , I had a role in not the greatest actor or most confident but I like to give it a go and the students did so well on such a fast production turnaround , so give it watch and let us know what you think
Tag Archives: creative
when foxes come
swallowing moonlight
with half naked humility,
aftertaste of unpleasant cloud
the day would sacrifice me,
me a host to the yellow sun
wrapped in a fleece
of further understanding,
a measure to the international indifference
patron to the act of ignorance,
this is a race, our race
spend life in an aggrieved chokehold
as time seeps the stupid sore
picked at by eager interference,
of state
in desperate need of rescue
ticking
ticking
only asses and chickens
claw at the dirt
spreading a mess
soiled by their own entrapment
it would be unforgiving
when the foxes come
William S Burroughs – Shotgun Art
When he moved to Lawrence Kansas , began creating art by blasting spray paint cans over wood or canvas
soupaphiliac
campbells soup
can red white wrapped
filled with inconsequence
chicken creamed white pulse
tomato scarlet flow
twisting opener
pressure and urge
scot towel to mop up
each dribble from serrated
edge of can.
there is no prehistory in these
objects on a supermarket shelf
conditional lifespan,
to be consumed
or immortalized ,
maybe when it is emptied
my heart will be placed
inside a broth of pain
and societies torture,
so different and will not yield
my mind
my art
my love
drip upon my lips
down my chin
i will yearn for more
Jose Guadalupe Posada
Suppose we were chaff, that was lying about
When a very small whirlwind brushed us to the sky,
And then at the moment when we sailed highest,
A wind that was stronger blew us apart…
Goodbye little brothers,
Dear parents, farewell
Here my sins end,
I have no more to tell.
Jose Posada 1852-1913 Artist, Illustrator and Cartoonist with strong beliefs during the Mexican Revolution with his publisher Arroyo, illustrating ballads and poems and images for day of the dead
cumbria caravan , eastern view
Chris Lawrence Phoneography
4:30am
spelltime hour of silence
light defaces the sky
and sun confronts glass,
i am a discordant instrument
out of tune,
field and track make profiles
in the light,
rabbit flashes white tail
crows beckon with raw calls,
everyone is sleeping,
alone without cellphone coverage
or far reaching internet,
my problems an essential alphabet
to be categorized and processed
without many answers,
flushed with a sense of panic
brighter light folds about me,
besides dad gone since january
people move about my head
reaching for my attention
often stumbling,
sipping coffee
i asked them to be patient
my service was slow
attention would come
from the sleep abandoned
most awake now,
allowing the light to reach my retina
but there it stopped,
inside was still a bleak landscape
of whatever,
and i had not cleaned it up yet
Four Haiku
grit sea wind blown falls
burning eye as winter comes
morning dims to pale
i am there again
dazzled under camera
she as flesh to me
unforgiven flash
of written resolution
ideas cascade
from bosom to loin
i in extreme insolence
radiate summer
http://haiku-heights.blogspot.co.uk/2012/09/september-heights-day20-p179-lights.html
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