The Writing Elves

Writing for you has never been easy

It started out as a mere whim

A subtle remark at your heart from afar

Drowning in scents of whimsical grins

 

Writing for spirit is graciously fulfilling

It thrusts out benevolent spears

Aimed not only to carry in chariots

Aimed only to disintegrate faltering fears

 

Writing for you is not always internal

Affection acts both in dungeons and gardens

Trumpeting train tracks subduing religion

The sound watering to wake the gateway wardens

 

So man wanders the streets of Christmas Past

No heaven for heathens and hatred renewed

Man walks door to door to exclude her stature

They are afraid of what they do not know; afraid of losing you

 

With straw hats and shoes of red pepper

Their elf like mannerisms control

The whimsical smiles

The dungeons and gardens

And things I barely understand at all

 

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Reincarnation

I have not been very active recently.

There are two reasons:

Trying to figure out where I am going and… finding out that I have to put my kitten down today. I was supposed to wait until Saturday but he struggled immensely last night and therefore I see no reason to extend his suffering.

I do not want you guys to feel like I have given up on this site and/or my copper quest so instead of a blog (because I am rather numb today) I am sending you one of my recent poems.

Reincarnation

I wish I could touch your soul with a feather and
Erase all trace of dusty doubt
In a fragrance of humid tar I want to wrap my heart
And let this tear seep out forever

Forever in remembrance of a dying night
Deep inside a dark ray of emotion
Where souls make love in playful exclusion of our anatomy
Those moments when breath became mass in the shape of a stone in our throats

Isn’t it so beautiful when we can do naught but remain silent
And let our eyes gasp out in disbelief
When we were too afraid of ruining this eruption of fate with a touch
Too afraid of personalizing this endeavor of souls

I want to paint your soul and paste it on to my own
To look within my own being and catch a glimpse of you
Over
And over
And over

Until the moon no longer shines her love on me
When the boat man comes along
And with not much besides me and a coin in my pocket
We sail away toward the hope of a new encounter with the presence of your life in mine

Because of my little hero’s sudden illness and disappearance, I’ve been thinking about Reincarnation a lot more than usual and I think that very soon I will be sharing my thoughts on that particular subject.

Thank you for baring with me – Iva

Your own… Personal… DADA!

“Anti-Art” were the words used by Hans Richter to describe the movement that was DADA. This was because the movement was the complete opposite to art and DADA went against everything that art stood for.

Where art was based on traditional aesthetics and such; DADA ignored tradition and aesthetics.This was the reaction of the creative population towards World War 1. ‘Anthem for Doomed Youth’ by Wilfred Owen almost immediately springs to mind when pondering upon the rise of DADAISM.Throughout his struggle to keep alive, Owen created a lot of his own kind of DADA. Now we need  not get confused since the movement included mainly: visual arts, literature, poetry, art manifestoes, theatre, graphic design and many more.

DADA is not limited… the point is that there are no rules, a total artistic freedom.

Postmodernism, Pop Art and a lot of other lovely things indirectly sprung from this movement. Figuratively, this was the breath of fresh air after the war, the knitted pieces of broken people recreating what had been lost to them in the kind of silence that screamed at the rest of the world.

It is said that one of the origins of DADAISM is associated with the Cabaret Voltaire in Zurich…[for more on that visit: http://www.dada-companion.com/cabaret/].

Enough of the theory… this blog is about personal DADA.

All our routine activities have the potential to be more enjoyable, beautiful and artistic. Brushing your teeth, making your bed, making breakfast… eating that breakfast, the way we walk, talk and act… those are all routine habits that one could easily begin to appreciate and enjoy more if we actually put ourselves into them…

Try using the back of the toothpaste tube to apply the paste to your brush… or humming the Adams Family theme song while you do it or sing ‘ This Is Hallolween’ if it will make you feel more cheerful. Living life can be as wonderful as painting is to those who (like myself) are no good at it. There are no rules when it comes to being yourself .

Many people may not even be sure as to who they are, and even then I say: Make your own, personal DADA. I must add that your own kind of DADA does not necessarily have to be cheerful if that is not who you are or how you feel… Once again there is complete freedom to create any form of art inspired by any and every emotion that one goes through. I for one have a different walk when I am sad as opposed to when I am happy. I do things differently when I am in a different mood and to an extent everyone does, only we do not really notice it.

Try picking up  the empty coke can the next time you walk down the road… think about what your kind of DADA with regards to this can would be. Throwing it into the nearest bin by the way also counts! The next time you go shopping try buying something that you would feel totally comfortable in and try not think about what it looks like but rather if it is the kind of the thing you could sit in/wear/sleep in for days at a time if needs be.

Try sprinkling a bunch of mint leaves on your pizza the next time you order one.

Eat DADA, draw DADA, write DADA… live DADA.

Be different by being you… whoever said that you cannot be goth,hippie, religious and gay all at the same time? You can be a nerd and still be cool and vice versa. There are no rules and no impossibilities; I often say how I wish people would stop adding the word to the dictionaries.

I was always fashionably in trouble when I was in high school. I broke the rules that did  not suit me, but always in such a way that I never really got into any kind of trouble for my actions. I often disagreed with my teachers and I would get away with it because in the end we would have a factual debate and often I’d come up with a better argument.  I never really had any real friends at school and yet most people knew me. I was the gay, fashionably rebellious, soft, caring and friendly girl with the strangest sense of style and the nerve to wear a mow-hawk on school grounds (or so I’ve been told). I wrote essays that my teachers never really enjoyed reading but had to give me credit for regardless. Yet I loved my school and my teachers, so much so that I want to go back to the place as a teacher and hopefully one day I will create one such establishment of my own.

My ultimate form of DADA would be to teach it in an institution for the alternative and traditional arts, languages, sciences etc.

Possibility means scope and variety and the space to mess up and try again without having to erase or rewind. There is so much more I wanted to say… I guess I’ll have to come back to it.

Until then…

Make good (DADA) art!