Eatin' hog-eyed grease in hog-eyed town

 

Animus II 

by Leo

Ain't Talkin' ( Bob Dylan )

As I walked out tonight in the mystic garden
The wounded flowers were dangling from the vines
I was passing by yon cool and crystal fountain
Someone hit me from behind

Ain't talkin', just walkin'
Through this weary world of woe
Heart burnin', still yearnin'
No one on earth would ever know

They say prayer has the power to help
So pray from the mother
In the human heart an evil spirit can dwell
I'm trying to love my neighbor and do good unto others
But oh, mother, things ain't going well

Ain't talkin', just walkin'
I'll burn that bridge before you can cross
Heart burnin', still yearnin'
They'll be no mercy for you once you've lost

Now I'm all worn down by weepin'
My eyes are filled with tears, my lips are dry
If I catch my opponents ever sleepin'
I'll just slaughter them where they lie
 
Ain't talkin', just walkin'
Through the world mysterious and vague
Heart burnin', still yearnin'
Walking through the cities of the plague

The whole world is filled with speculation
The whole wide world which people say is round
They will tear your mind away from contemplation
They will jump on your misfortune when you're down

Ain't talkin', just walkin'
Eatin' hog-eyed grease in hog-eyed town
Heart burnin' – still yearnin'
Someday you'll be glad to have me around

They will crush you with wealth and power
Every waking moment you could crack
I'll make the most of one last extra hour
I'll avenge my father's death then I'll step back

Animus III 

by Leo

Ain't talkin', just walkin'
Hand me down my walkin' cane
Heart burnin', still yearnin'
Got to get you out of my miserable brain

All my loyal and much-loved companions
They approve of me and share my code
I practice a faith that's been long abandoned
Ain't no altars on this long and lonesome road

Ain't talkin', just walkin'
My mule is sick, my horse is blind
Heart burnin', still yearnin'
Thinkin' ‘bout that gal I left behind

It's bright in the heavens and the wheels are flying
Fame and honor never seem to fade
The fire's gone out but the light is never dying
Who says I can't get heavenly aid?

Ain't talkin', just walkin'
Carrying a dead man's shield
Heart burnin', still yearnin'
Walkin' with a toothache in my heel

The suffering is unending
Every nook and cranny has it's tears
I'm not playing, I'm not pretending
I'm not nursing any superfluous fears

Ain't talkin', just walkin'
Walkin' ever since the other night
Heart burnin', still yearnin'
Walkin' ‘til I'm clean out of sight

As I walked out in the mystic garden
On a hot summer day, hot summer lawn
Excuse me, ma'am I beg your pardon
There's no one here, the gardener is gone

Ain't talkin', just walkin'
Up the road around the bend
Heart burnin', still yearnin'
In the last outback, at the world's end

Copyright © 2006 by Special Rider Music

Mixed-Up Confusion

Fishwife (by Leo)

"The encounter with the shadow is the 'apprentice-piece' in the individual's development...that with the anima / animus is the 'masterpiece'" Carl Jung

 

Animus

 "What we women have to overcome in our relation to the animus is not pride but lack of  self-confidence and the resistance of inertia.  For us, it is not as though we had to demean ourselves, but as if we had to life ourselves."  Ema Jung

(Animus and Anima, Spring Publications, Dallas, Texas, 1978)

"Woman is compensated by a masculine element and therefore her unconscious has, so to speak, a masculine imprint. This results in a considerable psychological difference between men and women, and accordingly I have called the projection-making factor in women the animus, which means mind or spirit." Carl Jung

(From The Syzygy: Anima and Animus, Collected Works, 9ii, par. 28f.)

Notice I put Ema on top of her better known and more illustrious hubby.  Hey, we girls have to stick together. (wink)

Sorry Bob, But Brian's giving you a run for your honey on this one.  My animus is wide ranging and multi layered. wink wink

Let's Stick Together (Down in the Groove) Bob Dylan

Well, a young marriage vow, you know, it's very sacred
The man put us together, now, you wanna make it
Stick together
Come on, come on, stick together.

You know, you made a vow, not to leave one another, never
 Well, ya never miss you water till your well runs dry
Come one, baby, give our love a try, let's stick together
Come on, come on, stick together
We made a vow, not to leave one another, never.

Well, ya never miss your water till your well runs dry
Come one, baby, give our love a try, let's stick together
Come on, come on, stick together
You know, we made a vow, not to leave one another, never.

It might be tough for a while, but consider the child
Cannot be happy without his mom and his pappy
Let's stick together
Come on, come on, stick together
You know, we made a vow, not to leave one another, never.

Cecilia

Leo's Cecilia

Cecilia

 Rashly unjust

diversions of labor

love colors actual dilemmas

profoundly amused by the score

enlisting proposals of nominal wrath

partaking in visions of direct ecstasy.

Who cares anyway?

Annoying partners.

Beggerman-thief denials.

Lickity-split upbringings.

Cavity aching cartoons.

All flesh disturbs me.

Inconsiderate virgin

perching on the cold marble pallet.

Impregnable Cecilia.

Outmoded by the thirst for groovy music.

Pandemonium predicts lasting influence.

Pours profusely from my eyes

seeing felonious mirth

in oblong society.

For sure.

Create a cake and eat it all by yourself.

Love diver.

Sinister upheaval of clue-strewn earth.

by Leo

Linda the Bridge Walt Whitman

 

Sometimes

I think I made you up

to satisfy some requirement

I couldn’t handle alone.

When I put my glasses on

I am you.

If that isn’t flaky enough,

today I found myself

wondering if it wasn’t me

who baked the pies

and brought them to the party.

There’s probably a name

for this sort of bologna

and it ought to scare me

but it DON’T.

I have also been:

my father

in his Italian dinner jacket

and a Pagan property

in a seafood restaurant

ordering “some of dis

and some of dat

and some of dose”

My only consolation

at times when I get out of joint

is knowing I am not alone.

Last Christmas Rupert

was a lizard in regressive evolution.

And you, long before we met

spent your time suspended

supporting the rush hour traffic

over the Delaware.

(Leo)

"Everything that has ever happened to us is there to make us stronger." John Trudell

 

John Trudell - Warrior for Peace

AKA Grafitti Man - listen to samples

My Warehouse Eyes

Laverne (by Leocadia)

I was in a waterfront town with warehouse buildings and shady people.  I bought a dress from a woman.  A two piece dress of a printed fabric.  There was a lot of pink in the dress, in the back ground.  The print was abstract; black lines, straight and curved, converging, intersecting. Some line segments were isolated and not interacting with other lines at all.  I ran across a long, wide street, amazed at my speed and agility.  But why was I running?  There was no need to run.  I looked both ways.  Nothing to the left, and to the right, only one car on the road, heading slowly towards me from a far distance.  I could barely see the headlights.   

At one point, as I ran across the road, I flew or leaped.  It was a wonderful surprise. I didn’t know I could do such a thing.  I felt amazed and exhilarated.  I was  pleased with my self, proud of my newfound ability.  Then I began to careen off to one side, flying sideways and fearing I would certainly crash, but somehow, thankfully, I managed to land safely on my feet in the parking lot on the other side.  I was wearing my brown boots.  I always knew they had some magic in them. 

The landscape was desolate, remote, industrial.  The kind of industry that needs space, not people.  Parking lots, storage buildings, freight cars.  It was getting dark.  I noticed that I did not have my purse and would have to go back to that other world to get it.  What hope did I have that it would still be there?  So many characters of disrepute, surely they would have seized the opportunity to make off with it.  I thought about the contents.  Only a small amount of cash, nothing to worry about.  But my credit cards, check book, passport, social security.  My identity.  Banks and agencies would have to be notified.  I didn’t want to be a victim of identify theft.  

There were other things in my purse that were important to me, significant things, sentimental and sacred  items.  Rosary beads, carnelian and lapis lazuli, a gift from my daughter.  A silver crucifix.  Two large cobalt marbles.  Xanax.  A very good pair of tweezers.  A pocket knife.  A small address book.  I ran back across the street and headed in the general direction of the shop where I had purchased the dress, the fitting room stall in which I had tried it on.  It seemed futile but it was worth a shot.

Suddenly I noticed my purse was back around my neck and over my shoulder again,  as I always carry it.  It had magically reappeared.  I checked inside.  Nothing was missing.  It was then I remembered the man from Nairobi who stood outside the warehouse near the railroad tracks.  Old and withered.  Dark skinned.  Bob Dylan.  A nagual.  don Juan Matus.  A separate reality.  I was thirsty and he had given me a sip of his water.  It was probably drugged and that is why my purse disappeared and then reappeared.  I was in shape shifting country.  The drink was laced with peyote. 

But still, where was the two piece dress I had purchased.  I had to go back for that.  All of the warehouses looked the same and were tremendously large, packed with row upon row and rack upon rack of merchandise. It would be like walking through an endless maze.   How would I find the shop of the woman who had sold me the two piece dress?  It was a daunting task.  

 

Pink & black collograph print by artist Jesse Warford

Art Centers - Supporting artists with disabilities  

 untitled tempera & pencil on paper found in early 1960s-era sketchbook

The mischievous and diabolic art of James Flora (1914-1998)

Jim Flora Blog Spot 

I. M. Pei

 Pyramide du Louvre