Razz Burial
Posted on | February 19, 2013 | 1 Comment
Fruit-filled Angels:
How the fuck are you? I am fine. I love the chilly weather you sent me for Presidents’ Day (who’s your founding father, baby?)
As we enter the tiny slice of zodiac pie called Pisces, I give to you one last Loser in Pencil. The abominable, loathesome, seriously disturbed national treasure called Casey Anthony [aka "TOTMOM"]. Do I think she’s guilty?? Well…..I know she is a Pisces…but I don’t think she pulled off the murder of her toddler w/out help from her dad, George Anthony. Woo-wee…the dirt that surfaced on him during the trial !!!!!!! Just “WOW!”
Anyway…enjoy. And though my husband told me not to apologize for my artistic shortcomings, I feel that I should apologize for this one….I could barely finish it.
The Final Loser in Pencil: Casey Anthony
And I realize I am NOT a good artist. No one has to bring that to my attention. I love art, I admire people who can do it, I desperately WANT to be an artist, because I feel it is one of the only ways I can truly say what I need to say on this planet…but, I know I am not saying it as beautifully as I’d like to.
But I will not stop trying. I will always work on “seeing” with an artist’s vision. I will keep on trying to make that switch over to “right brain” that is required for drawing. But, I really do have art-dyslexia!!! The lines move constantly as I look at what I’m drawing. The lights & shadows also shimmer & undulate as I try to make sense of them & put them on paper.
Every person I know can sit down in front of a blank peice of paper and put something more “artistically accurate” on that paper than I can. Even my uptight, Republican brother did a single art project in High School that was better than anything I’ve ever done. And he would never, ever, ever want to be called an ‘ARTIST.’
And I have called myself an artist all my life, though I know what I “see” and create is not at all endowed with the truth & accuracy of an artist’s vision. I have always felt like Van Gogh. Frustrated. Determined. Furious. Defeated. More determined. And full of self-loathing over my inability to see a still object on the page.
And yet, as long as I am alive…I will keep trying to see. To deliver a vision that corresponds to what I see in my head. To learn the endless contours & meanderings of the human form. To be worthy of saying “yes, I am an artist.”
So…no apologies…just excuses for my inability : )
*****
Everywhere I go I cause trouble without meaning to. Turbulence. The Pisces stirs the pot with its downward/upward spiral.
*******
NOW, here are some poems in their most innocent, automatic Vogon phases. If they were human, they’d be adorable babies!
I feel like the child I never had.
Or both.
They’d be 23 & 24 now and very badly scarred,
and most likely at a plutonic,
platonic, paranormal distance from me;
but I’ll go ahead and carry
their karma to the finish line
since I dropped my mother’s.
This is no place for children.
Or is it only for children??
I can hardly grasp this playground saloon
sewer system shark tank clown college. I can
hardly grasp
the monkey bar sliding scale helix
we promise our children, inner or outer.
Now
They [are] grown-ups and I am
the child who spilled
like electron soup,
a microwaved medley of gene pools.
I may pay a price
Or
bear a bruise from God or Jesus,
or manmade ridiculous laws (what do they have to do with fun?)
But I can carry this generational burden on my own.
Baggage handler between bodies.
Mule between dimensions.
Uncool cop between this life &
the one that never happened.
0217:0700p
A Photo A Day, Feb 15, 2013. I woke up at 11:53 pm to get this ..ahem…delightfully obscene photo-a-day…yikes!
***
Good-bye Pope Benedict.
Are you done Poping?
I respect your decision,
but I can’t help feeling—you know,
that little fly in my gut
churning butter —
that you’re not so much
quitting Poping
as, say, making your plutonian
getaway
before
a big velvet rope breaks &
a mob of truth
comes kicking down
the cobblestones revealing
Revelation’s epilogue [22:22]
the final say
before we inch away from
the motorized pulpit,
before we break into a march,
before we run screaming “Mary!” against
the wind.
0217:0725p
***
For Lent, I gave up talking.
For Lent, I gave up the news.
For Lent, I gave up typecasting my co-workers in non-existent Rom/Com roles.
For Lent, I gave up dreaming about eating things that are not food.
For Lent, I gave up Animal Planet.
For Lent, I gave up flying on airplanes.
For Lent, I did not go to Fashion Week.
For Lent, I vowed to stop conjecturing about politicians’ personal lives.
For Lent, I gave up Facebook (but not Twitter)
For Lent, I gave up on this poem…
0217:0750p
*******OKAYYYYYYYY, ANGELS!!!!!!!!!! I will bid you farewell. And I will close by saying,
One of the main reasons more psychics do not play & win the lottery is because the lottery is a filthy, evil, manmade, ill-intentioned, greed-inducing, curse-ed thing, and the spirits will not go there…
Tags: Fun Photos > Losers in Pencil > Vogon Poetry
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Juliet Dicaprio : A Category 4 blog at www.julietdicaprio.com
(Tue May 21, 4:32 pm).
February 20th, 2013 @ 8:27 am
Love the Vogon poetry especially the goodbye to Pope Benedict. You are one of the best Artist I have known and you need to just learn to live with that. Your Tot Mom may not have come out as you would like, but the expresion in the eyes and the emotion it evokes leaves no doubt you are an ARTIST!
How can you give up Animal Planet?
Your first poem is a little distressing. Ok, it scared me. I think that it is good, but scary. Just remember Karma Kittens pur forgiveness. Be a Karma Kitty and pur to yourself.
Love
The Moonface