Amputee Scarecrows

He resisted the chill with all he had in him
[Which wasn’t much]
But cold seeped in
Nonetheless

Frost formed on his hat
Ice latched onto his boots
Angry crystals grew on his collar
Turning him brittle and stiff

As hard as he tried
[‘cause he really did try!]
He could not stretch his arm stubs
To hug himself for warmth

A fate suffered by all of his kind
Amputee scarecrows
Cursed to wander through Autumn
With short-sleeve shirts

The Dance Above Me

Shards of light like icepicks piercing
Drive through eyelid skin so thin
Causing moaning, groaning, wincing
Squeezing tight to keep night in

But Sun runs wild, a slave set loose
To burn the world with shine so free
A necklace now - a lovely noose
Surrounds the throat of captured sleep

Daystar climbs into his glory
Shredding shadows, rising high
Peaking where apex so lofty
Bilaterates the bluing sky

A lasso flung from deepest west
Ensnares the beast and draws him down
Until the sizzle sound of dusk
Is swallowed up by hungry ground

Then tiptoes out the timid moon
Dressed in lace with shoulders bare
And glides across the tapestry
Of clouds and love, of stars and air

Tired now, she yawns a bit
A rumble shakes the eastern shore
Proud lion breaks his binding bands
And thrusts through dawn to roar once more

Morning

I love it when the cold sting of
the freshly peeled sheets
frozen by moonlight

Fades away into the warm toastiness
that swallows me up
just before dawn

But I hate how that splendid comfort
is destroyed
by a whoosh of the covers

And the scent of a frost-laden morning
fights against the heat
hiding in my eyes

Sad Song

Slow woodwinds play
I am a sad bird
Alone
Moaning for something
I've loved
And lost
Longing for sky

Slow drumbeats bump
I am a red fox
Slinking
Grazing tree bases low
Sneaking along
Unseen
Looking for rest

Slow voices sleek
I am a blue stone
Sunning
Open to the heat
Then cold
Closed up
Waiting for dawn

Slow reeds quiver
I am snow falling
Drifting
Floating to earth
Tiny ice
Blown white
Touching down soft

Slow branches wave
I am a cedar
Dancing
Swaying in wood winds
Breathing in clouds
Evergreen
Tasting the rain

Slow birdlings sing
I am the wind
Blowing
Over hilltops
In valleys
Running
Chasing the fog

I am a sad song
Longing
Waiting
Reaching
Hoping
For home

Birthday Dung

The oversweet icing from the birthday cake
has tinted my dung

One birthday in
The same birthday out

Exiting an olden green
from Blue #40
black

Luv Ya

“Luv ya.”
She spat those two half-words at me
Like seeds from an orange
an involuntary reaction
a sudden sneeze

Escaping, flying out
without weight
without thought

I remember when they were full-words
Large and velvety loops
carefully written
lovingly impressed

Like lipstick kisses
On the vellum of my soul

Now - just ugly letters
Scribbled out in haste
on scrap paper

Empty

Little more than items
Jotted on
The Shopping List
- Hot pink lipstick
- Antihistamine
- Oranges (seedless)

Girls

Fast girls, Fast girls
Wear
Thin gloves
Faux Pearls

Slow girls, Slow girls
Wear
Mystery thick
In velvety swirls

Parallel Rails

Blink, blink
Blink, blink
The red & white stripes
of the crossed arms
Tell me, “NO!”

The pain
of the wait
As the slow, slow
Slightly moving shape
Trickles its way
Down the track

“Come on!”
I beg aloud
Punishing
An innocent steering wheel

The lights wink
Imperial red
Back at me
Blink, blink
Blink, blink

Just me
And the train of
almost empty cars
Trapped
On our
Parallel rails

Height Depth

Blue light
Crystal meth
Night life
Hardened edge
High time
Golden egg
Wired spine
Shrunken head

Gone blind
Walking dead
Warning sign
Cliff ahead
Downward climb
Riverbed
Icy crime
Frozen sweat

Liquid mind
Soaking wet
Leaking eyes
Blood red
Tortured cries
Wasted breath
Endless lies
True regret

Stay alive
Left for dead
Coming night
Growing heft
Out of time
Heavy chest
Hours fly
Minutes left

Pain subsides
Numb collects
Twilight
Facing west
Final sigh
Peacefulness
Sunrise
Sunset

Charmer

He could have sworn he heard hissing
So he approached her from behind
Afraid to look at her face
And sure enough

Her hair didn’t cascade down
The full length of her back
But pooled up
Between her shoulder blades
Like a jumble of nesting serpents
In her hood

And when she asked him,
“What kinda music you into?”
He stared at his shoes
Because He knew
She was hunting his soul

“Depends on my mood,”
He mumbled.
“Figuresssss” she answered.
Then smelled the air
Between them
With the quick flick
Of a slightly forked tongue

He slowly
Found her eyes
And felt himself
Turn to stone

Vapor

Life is a vapor-
Thick and awaiting.
Quick dissipating,
wispy
then gone.

Excuses

But the water’s too cold
And the sun’s really hot
And I’m feeling quite old
And the smell turns me off and makes my eyelashes itch
But what if you had to?

But the line is so long
And my time is so short
And the price is quite high
And I’ve got lots to do before the junkmail arrives
But what if you had to?

But the moon’s almost full
And I might oversleep
And I eat lunch at 12:30 sharp
And would hate to stop working on my Soduku before it’s solved
But what if you had to?

But my arms are quite weak
And I don’t like to sweat
And I’m allergic to pain
And I’d rather lie on my couch and get fat eating pork rinds
But what if you had to?

But I just washed the car
And my wrist hurts a bit
And the air has a chill
And there’s some kind of meat stuck between these two teeth
But what if you had to?

What if I had to?
What if I had to?
What if you stopped whining
And just did what you need to?

But

Travel Agent

Exotic destination
Three rows back
Window seat available
This job is in the bag

Wet footprints
Invertebrate tingling
Broken ribs
Void of meaning

The sign on her back says
“Be Quiet”
That way we can read it when
She turns around

Bushels & baskets
Lifted & filled
Acres of okra
Slaughtered & killed

For what?

Travel Agent
of guilt trips
Booking again

Selfishness

Hurtful & cancerous thing-
It eats at the soul like a rotting gangrene!

It throbs & it itches
Chomps away as it twitches

What a loneliness
[Slow death]
Terminal.
Sickness.

Lust

A sparkling shroud
Pulled over flush faces.
Who blindly lie down in
All its dark places.

Heaving & hoing
Touch, pleasure, flight

Slink in its
Darkness.
Fool around in its
Night.

Holidays

Once upon a time
There was this virgin
Who gave birth to
The Son of God.

So go to sleep now
And some fat guy’s
Gonna bring you tons
Of plastic crap
You don’t need
Wrapped in shiny paper.

Then, a few years later
Jesus popped up
From the dead
and said,
“I’m alive!
Go find some eggs!”

And they all lived
Happily forever after.

True Star

All of them sparkling up there
Twinkling.
Shining.
Quietly beckoning, “Look at me. Look at me.”
But which one is that true star?

They all sing so brightly. There together.
Sweetly.
Gently.
Like tiny diamond sirens, “Come to me. Come to me.”
Which one shall I choose?

Each takes its turn at peeking.
Pulsing.
Poking.
Peering through the velvety veil of darkness.
On which will I lock my gaze?

My heart is set on the one of the many.
True.
North.
I listen for the voice, “I’m the one. I’m the one.”
Yet can I chase the sound amid the glitzy noise?

Somehow the choice is narrowed down a bit.
Closer.
Smaller.
My soul is honing in, “Here I am. Here I am.”
A million stars recede to black.

Then the shining slows to one.
Bright.
Alone.
Speaking in the night, “This is the way. This is the way.”
So I tiptoe towards its light.

Timeless Question 17

Q: Would it be any harder to walk up invisible stairs in the darkness than in the light?

Free From Form

She wandered through the ugly duckling
Dancing there with gloves unseen
Until the sound of foreign nothing
Landed near with thoughts unclean

And so fair lady with her toes
Dangled in the autumn breeze
Unsure of what to do with time
Aware of all the brittle leaves

FAUXALIA Series

I have been creating a new series of worked entitled FAUXALIA. Here are is a link to an online album for the series:

http://picasaweb.google.com/JohnLucZArtiste/FAUXALIASeries#


Artist Statement

The FAUXALIA series is an exploratory commentary on what makes something 'genuine' & 'real' versus 'inauthentic' or 'fake'. FAUXALIA also tests the boundaries between plant & animal, sentient & non-sentient life. Where does one begin and the other end?

This series was created mainly through direct modeling techniques with paper, aluminum, joint compound, latex paint, wood, yarn, fabric & copper wire. These ‘organic’ forms are then mounted onto faux fur wrapped boxes. The pieces are modular & can grouped to create unique 'pieces' from the unrelated modules. At what point do disparate individuals connect to others and become part of a community or a colony?

As in all my art, the FAUXALIA series is an attempt to obliterate the myth that some things are merely ‘secular’ while others are somehow inherently ‘sacred’. Symbols, materials, spaces, colors, forms, ideas - are only as sacred as the value placed upon them & drawn from them. My pieces are allegories for whittling away at this mythical dichotomy in a quest for that place where humanity & divinity collide. Does value placed on an item really exist apart from the one giving it value?

By connecting the space around, in & through the works with the space the viewer occupies I hope to encourage the viewer to find a sacred value in the interaction. My pieces echo the results of a struggle to entice a creation off the flatness of a two dimensional plane & into the viewers’ space. This projecting is accomplished through the use of visual inlets, highly textured media, tactile elements & negative space. At what point does a 2-dimensional piece become a 3-dimensional piece?

My pieces, like life itself, serve as convergence points. They are birthplaces where thought & idea become solid and alive. They are points of decision where opportunities for exploring the sacred can be either investigated & discovered or written off & ignored. Can new ‘life’ be created by the interaction of a living being with non-sentient materials?As the FAUXALIA series continues to unfold, I plan to recreate [and create new versions of] oceanic forms which particularly seem to blur the plant/animal division.

As my art continues to develop, I hope to break the static nature of surface-anchored art & entice it to enter the viewers’ experience with even more presence. I will also continue to experiment with - and push the limits of - varying, nontraditional media as I express my deep-seated inner faith & spiritual understanding.