Jug of orange juice
Paintbrushes – immediate things
Who needs manners?
Who needs these ceremonies?
Wants doors and manners
People making their grand entrances
Just feel free Lien
Your behaviour is just fine
Rembrandt and Van Gogh
Millet and Cezanne
Took a manner
Put a frame around it
Suzanne, The bathers, Sunflowers
The field workers
Auvers, Riemy, St Etienne
And Cezanne’s mountain
Clogs of cheese
Wellies, scarves and shawls
Vermeer over by the window
Who wants a crazy love?
I want to be calm like a painting
I want to be quiet
For the way you affect me
Is calm and quiet
And a jug of orange juice
The painting on the wall
Towel over the wardrobe door
Neighbours resting around a map of the world
Continents of furniture
Lots of peace
Slowly leaving the minds
It’s morning you see
Peace leaves the mind
The map of the world
Soon ceases to be a picture
With neighbours resting around it
It becomes a midday game
Peace of mind now
Crazy love after
I have trust in neighbours
I have love for them
I feel secure
Alone with neighbours
Calm or cool
Not a word seems wrong this morning
Leisure and a map of the world
Rainwater in my baseball shoes
Wind and Sunlight in the trees
And a towel over the wardrobe door
The painting on the wall
Did the full moon flow
Like a silver tide in your anima?
Did the shadow of your ego
Dance the wolf dance?
As the scent of blood,
The want of love
In the hypothalamus of your dreams
Lead you to the hilltop of your vocation?
Did the civilisation of your thoughts
Build aluminium bridges to the stars?
Across the river of the full moon
That filled your eyes like canyon?
Was the dullness of your heart?
Inspired by the love drug of the lunar night?
That orbited through our spirit
Enraging your fascination with your dark soul?
Does the framework of your social conditioning
Protect you against the might of desire, of a heavenly pulling power?
I warned you of the predictions reported that day
I told you about the scientific theories of the night
And I wanted to be there to comfort you
When the full moon effect took hold with its light
This is from a photo of Heather McCelland playing her Ukulele at her songwriting class at the Mary Ward Centre. The title refers to a song I wrote in her evening class. The oil painting is 95 x 125 centimetres. There are other posts that also refer to the song and the beginning of the painting somewhere, a search the categories will probably reveal them, thankyou.
The wearing of a suit usually means you are not allowed to express yourself. You are part of a group managed by a higher authority. You are given your orders and expected to follow them. What do I mean by self-expression? I think it means being able to discuss all things, argue all things and question all things that have put you into a suit. The drawbacks of wearing a suit are that those who require it have put themselves above you and are able to control you. The school uniform means that all children are there to obey the rules, so to the office suit, the military uniform etc. If you discover something new, of benefit to others or a mistake in the thinking of those over you will you be listened to? Will they engage with you in smoothing out and trying to understand your insight your question, your point of view? Sometimes it can seem that only if you wear a suit will you be listened to, so it seems to be the opposite of the uniform thinking, and yet this will isolate outsiders, even to the point of causing harm.
The history of the suit – it seems to have begun with Victorian fashion with a mind to make people fit in with a certain class way of thinking. If you wanted to mix with a certain kind of people you have to dress like them. The Sunday best of the poor people who went to church was more of a way of fitting in than the worship of God. There was a time with ancient Greeks for instance when fashion was limited to how you folded your gown around you, with new folding techniques sweeping across society, while modern clothing is very varied and self-expressive so why are authorities still mildly afraid or critical of people who do now dress like them? Presenters on TV in their suits all the time, come what may. Still, the Sunday best suit prevails in religious communities. Still the uniform, the toe the line and be in order. It makes things easy for those who want to be in command, good or bad, to turn their staff, pupils, etc. into a papier-mache society.
If a person cannot express themselves to those in charge of them what do you end up with? Everything goes flat and a kind of lifelessness enters our existence and w cannot live our lives with any meaning except that which is imposed upon us.
As I left the Chinese Arts Festival that night
The Dragons followed my soul in flight
Back through the years to old Chinatown that
Whispered Chinese promises with hardly a sound
As I heard under the quiet Pennyfields stars
As Chinamen from the ocean who sailed so far
From old Camay and the revolution and wars
They came in and went through Chinatowns secret doors
I saw the Shanghai men, ashore from sailing ships
Seeking Old Friends in Chinese Restaurants whose lips
And hands were hard and calloused from their months at sea
Working as cheap labour in the ship’s laundry
The groups of Chinese shopkeepers discussing sales
Whose English wives were at the Chandlers sowing sails
While the more disreputable of these Chinese men
Were living in a secret dark opium den
The romance of the Orient enchanted the young
Who flocked to play the Puk-a-Poo game with Chang Chung
While music hall actresses looking for distraction
Came to old Chinatown to sample the action
Then the Chinese outgrew the busy docklands town
And when the sailing ships no longer came around
then they moved inland and their dragons moved as well
Away from the sea and the sound of the ships bell