Tag Archives: Adam Wimbush

‘Monsters and Rites’ Scratch 1/4: Transformations Poems (Book 14)

3 Apr

TRANSFORMATIONS

George Braque Metamorphoses

February 2013-March 2014

17 poets, 15 months, creating 1 contemporary reworking of Ovid’s Metamorphoses

See the Transformations Page for more details or the ‘Present Collaborations’ Tab

__________________

Poems Inspired by Book 14

.Featuring:

Adam Wimbush and Rebecca Audra Smith

.

Sniffing the Art Frost

by Adam Wimbush

.

In an orbital temple given to a goddess
She raised them, inspired them.
And in thine honour metamorphed them, but
She had learnt to hate cycles.

Ploughing their last great-hearted incantations,
Scylla and mutual friends greeted my mind,
To ask of those eyes framed with wrinkles,
Those deep wells filled with spells and herbs.

Said I “Crave no cure for beast splicing.
To delirium. That is where I circle pray.
I come to vent her rage.”
Years dropped like feather bombs.

Nor perhaps my wounds; Skin Trophys,
From burgaling the Gods.
I found new unexpectedness.
I was loved and pleased, and,
Like incense burning we slipped into old age.
Our magic like a mist obscuring the soul.

….

With many a frenzy, horror filled me bristles.
Call Moly; a white bloom with a tough wide snout,
Fell over my heads as I watched
Belching chieftains from the main hills.
Anti-fates was back. Rising cautiously.
As the waves feared the bright sun.
It told of how scents ruled the air.

Keep well away from her erogenous zones,
For who really knows the earth?
As we pad ungratefully upon her crust.

But my thoughts wagged like excited puppy tails.
There were tons of changes, but,
I lacked the great bloody gobbets and thought flecks,
For I was born among the flux.
I felt the weight of the universe,
As I slithered in me roots.

I say all this mixed up from wine.
She is woven with plant cells,
from wood nymphs, shores and more.

No? They were our epic ripples too.

……

The worst was westward way.
Muses for the nymphs fair course.
Then gathering a glittering camp,
She rushed her smouldering charge of electricity,
She intertwined twice and twice she tamed the wild prey.

Leaping nimbly from ancient text,
We found her snaking within the long rivers of his veins,
My foam flecked woman.
And only the mad could tell the tale,
Of fostering Venus, who when a horse,
Favoured my passion shapes.

Black out. Lights burnt out.
Then eastward where lofty beasts are slow meat,
They are claimed by ghostly swarms instead.
Picks turn over the soil of fear.
As I recalled I was nowhere, nothing happened.

Now accept us.

…..

Many deserve her anger.
She replaced her wings and mimicked oceans.

Together tossed in the sound storm,
I drove the lusty ship to the end.
The last kiss from her smiling scythe like lips.

Remember we are both ends of the light beam.
We wear the perfume of science.
Farm the pastures of conflicts.

In short we are all lost in the webbed heaven of ideas,
And all the ancient apples and bitter berries of Eden
Cannot disguise this disguise.

.

Glaucus and Scylla

by Rebecca Audra Smith

‘Sooner than my love will change, leaves will grow on the waters,

and sea-weed will grow on the hills.’

Sooner than my love will change
pigs will fly,
men turn to pigs,
fish marry birds.
You will speak in the tongue
of transformed animals.
You will bay and hoot
and snort.

My love will not grapple
as Peleus and Thetis did.
Her shape rolling and tearing
and mutating.
My love will be rock steady,
as steady as Scylla,
monsters deep in the water,
stone gripping her veins.

 

You can find more about Adam and Rebecca here:

.

Adam Wimbush

.

Rebecca Audra Smith

http://beccaaudra.wordpress.com/

https://twitter.com/BeccaAudra

.
Tomorrow our  Weekend Showcase, will feature Wood Sculptor Mark Crawley. Thank you, as ever,  for your interest.
.

‘Greed and Sorrow’ Swipe 5/5: Transformations Poems (Book 11)

6 Feb

TRANSFORMATIONS

George Braque Metamorphoses

February 2013-March 2014

17 poets, 15 months, creating 1 contemporary reworking of Ovid’s Metamorphoses

See the Transformations Page for more details or the ‘Present Collaborations’ Tab

__________________

Poems Inspired by Book 11

.Featuring:

 Adam Wimbush

_

The Cave of Sleep

by Adam Wimbush

.
Meanwhile…Alcyone is lost
Within the threads of blissful ignorance,
Aware the time grains dwindled
She kept entertained by weaving wonder.
Cocooned in her material of memories
Waiting for Ceyx to rematerialize.

.
Within the mellifluous manifolds of mist
She sends scent messages, mind texts, thought codes.
Requesting her husband’s safe return.
They were all unanswered,
Vacuous in the sublime void of prayer plasma.
Alcyones love for her husband Ceyx did not dilate,
It would tarnish the Heaven Zones here on Earth.
So Juno replied and programmed Iris with a mission.

.
>> Fast-forward to Somnus,
Ask him to send a dream clone of Ceyx to Alcyone,
To inject the truth…of her husbands demise. <<

.
Iris armed herself in spectrums,
Stained the sky with her sunset shadow,
Travelling through the thought fog
Wrapping the palace of Sleep.
Now imagine a kaleidoscopic chasm worming through a mountain,
Here be Sleep, were light is reversed,
Were the planets subconscious vapour
Swirls in a strange languid language of silence.
The only sound is from deep within,
The Stream of Dreams babbling,
Powering the Inducing Equipment.
This is the ambient abyss.

.
Iris floats in, sparkling refractions bounce off her,
Illuminating the chamber,
She sees Somnus sprawled out on his cloud couch.
A carpet of phantoms churn lethargically at his feet.
Somnus is spliced within worlds, his mind focus, un-focus,
Constantly sinking, sluggishly he enquires as to Iris’ presence.
Before his head disappeared into the mirror of his mind.

.
>>Sleep…who silences minds…the invigorator.
Order a Brain-Wraith to replicate Ceyx to enter Alcyones mind<<

.
With the message delivered and
Before slumber steals her consciousness
She flees on the bends of rainbows.

.
Morpheus is selected to metamorphose.
His detailing is exquisite,
A real shape shifter.
He will travel through the parallel territories,
On his noiseless wings like a souls shadow,
To pour these words into the dreamers ears…

.
>> …Wife, my image is distorted by death.
But it is I Ceyx.
My spaceship was destroyed in an energy blast.
But the echo of my voice is active
Repeating your name in space.
No more messages to the beyond.
You can still cry stars,
But it won’t bring me back. <<

.
Alcyones mind wriggles awake,
Her arms swiping for the spirit shape,
But he evaporates when she awakens.
Air body, the colour splashes away.

.
Distraught she tumbles into terror.
She plans to destroy herself,
In the self same fashion.
Raw.
Naked.
Molecular Dissipation.

.
Console Soul alone as Ceyx is.

.
To be dust touching dust…
……dream touching dream.

.
After Meanwhile…

.

Linking thought traces to spaces,
A glitch in the thought sea.
A shape, growing, morphing.
Recognition shreds her mind,
It’s the bobbing body of Ceyx.
His skin bubble.
In an astonishing organic flurry,
A screech-emitting bit,
Alcyone is air born, a wing woman.
Her cells regurgitate molecules,
Atoms split. The transformations kicking in,
With the energy of grief.

.
She faintly felt her freaky beak feel for his face,
The structure too solid that kisses couldn’t pass.
She cocooned the cadaver in drowning wings.
Gods witnessing pitied them,
Remixing them both as birds.
Now with parallel fates their love evolves,
Oscillating each year as avian aliens.
They fly on the surreal thermals of thought,
Swooping synapse lovers.

.
Covalent bonds holding strong.

.
Free to create.

 

.

.

You can find more about Nat and Greg here:

Adam Wimbush

http://wrongtriangle.wordpress.com/

https://twitter.com/Wrong_Triangle

‘Depths and Surfaces’ Glance 1/3: Transformations Poems (Book 10)

3 Dec

TRANSFORMATIONS

George Braque Metamorphoses

February 2013-March 2014

17 poets, 15 months, creating 1 contemporary reworking of Ovid’s Metamorphoses

See the Transformations Page for more details or the ‘Present Collaborations’ Tab

__________________

Poems Inspired by Book 10

.Featuring:

Greg Mackie and Adam Wimbush

_

That Loser Pygmalion

(with apologies to Ovid)

by Greg Mackie

That loser Pygmalion
said he wanted perfection,
but he just couldn’t handle
yet another rejection.
He wanted a woman
with no heat, with no soul,
so he sculpted a maiden
of ivory cold.

He bathed and he dressed her
in fine cloth and in pearls,
and bruised all his fingers
on her stone curves and swells.
And when caressing cold concrete
was no longer enough,
he prayed for his fantasy
to become flesh and blood.

What wonder, what joy,
did fill his old heart
when her ivory lips
so softly did part!
“You’re alone now, no longer,
and I will share your bed,
but just not tonight, dear,
I’ve got a sore head…”

.

Cyparissus

by Adam Wimbush

.

Vision drips a landscape vast,
Where emerald shard sparks shine and,
Even the dust seems illuminated.

Paradise becomes pregnant,
Thus shadows are born.

Their silent music maps weird webs,
Echoes caught in the fragile framework.

Static veins begin to reverberate.
Their varied atomic structures,
Spiral beneath the surface,
Like alien antenna protocol sniffing.

The flesh of the cosmos ripens,
While dog noise hardens to skin.

Under the weight of atoms,
The slender supports of reality bend,
The luxuriant knots of DNA unravel.
All previous preconceptions discarded.

Camouflaged amongst this cosmic clutter,
A boy materializes from the organic mess.
Shy shadows sipped at his thinking juice.

This is the flavor of his thoughts…

Once besotted with an animal;
A creature, which nourished minds,
From its magnificent antlers.
See the crackling energy of synapses spreading,
Forking like lightening.
The tips telling stories which were never repeated.

So some magic mechanism was fashioned,
To delicately decorate its neck,
And record the data, but alas,
The delicious delirium dodged this device.

Anyway the being visited many people’s minds,
It’s brain-quenching menu spluttering with story sparks.
It caressed your sub consciousness,
With its dream fingers.
Welcoming all formats of adoration.

The boy desired a fix,
From the fable cables upon its head,
So he led his beloved quadruped to an oasis,
Were they got drunk on dream soup.

He fondled the fantasy filigrees,
And marveled at the intricate imagery,
Pulsating from the animals amazing antlers.
Stories injected straight into his head, and
Together they galloped across galaxies.
The boy riding on its back.

Afterwards as the “Story Stag”
Was resting its ‘Tale Tendrils’
Beneath the Crab Nebular.
The boy went hunting, and
While wandering in the twilight reverie of story-haze,
He accidentally spears his companion.

Upon realizing the error in reality,
The boy, distraught, decides to die too,
No god could convince him otherwise.

He cried continually, and cries still into infinity.
The boy’s tears turned to pollen,
And were blown into the ether.

Eventually his whole essence evaporated,
His melancholy molecules metamorphed.

You can see them now,
Every time you gaze into the night sky,
The billion bits of his broken heart.

The scattered sorrow seeds called Stars.
Ready to germinate more galaxies.

A J Wimbush 2013

.
Obscurum per obscurius, ignotum per ignotius

 

You can find more about Greg and Adam here:

Greg Mackie

http://frenzyofflies.wordpress.com/

https://twitter.com/FrenzyOfFlies

.

Adam Wimbush

http://wrongtriangle.wordpress.com/

‘Struggle and Treachery’ Action 1/4: Transformations Poems (Book 7)

18 Sep

TRANSFORMATIONS

George Braque Metamorphoses

February 2013-March 2014

17 poets, 15 months, creating 1 contemporary reworking of Ovid’s Metamorphoses

See the Transformations Page for more details or the ‘Present Collaborations’ Tab

__________________

Poems Inspired by Book 7

>>Featuring:

Adam Wimbush and Rebecca Audra Smith

___

.

Jayson and the Astronauts*

by Adam Wimbush

.

The Astronauts blast through the atmosphere.

Fresh from the Thrace system where previously they had been,

Fighting the flying half-female forces of Harpeeys;

A race of soul tormentors who breathed fear and each one was a thought thief.

Fortunately their deformed forms were destroyed

Freeing the starved and tormented colony underneath

Who in return presented Jaysun with a compass with which to unlock the Cosmos.

Once cracked the cryptic coordinates guided him to the planet Colchis,

Where he would claim the “Shimmering Skin” from the savage Thing.

But the negotiations were complicated, revealing even more arduous adventures.

For Jaysuns cache would be empty if he couldn’t inspire and

Overcome the three layer test set out by the Thing.

But oh, how he oozed hero, sending waves of intoxication through Meedeeuh.

Her emotions flare and the alien love grows inside.

It mutates the meanings of the savage Things many mean manifestations,

Which now become meaningless.

Like the planets gravity she’s magnetised.

Caught in a prism of contradiction…she’s got the wrong triangle tingles…attracted to xeno-zones.

Feelings fluctuate in fancy frequencies as her moral compass flickers.

Surrounding powers sneak; they weave through inhuman web works

Were they can’t be understood.

Pumping god fluid into the pupa of paradoxical peril where the hatchlings of danger await.

Observing these dilemmas the snakes of her syntax hiss as she forges a shield of love.

A force field so strong no Layer Boss can penetrate.

.

.

Hazardous emotions reign creating a vortex in her soul

Which re-swirls images of alternative futures.

She commences to conjure.

Illusions solidify as realties dematerialise.

The galactic jigsaw pieces begin to slot together as,

Another goddess helps them piece together the puzzle of perception.

For within the circuits of the cosmos sparks hide, and

Tapping into this hidden electricity Meedeeuh and Jaysun decide to dive.

.

Layer 1:

.

With his force field glowing Jaysun confronts the Oxatons;

They vomit vortexes, they roar louder than black holes sucking in anti-matter.

They tear the fabric of space with their thunderous talons,

Horns of pure malice to the marrow, with which they rip reality.

Jaysun in his cocoon cruises into the beating black heart of the Oxatons hatred,

Were upon they release a shockwave of terror.

The negative energy is absorbed by the barrier of love and reflected back.

So their whirling withers, their energy dissipates and

The Oxatons dissolve into a time lapsed sunset.

.

Layer 2:

.

From the Things Terror Capsule

A handful of fossilised fangs where flung,

Biting deep into the flesh of the planet.

From these teeth seeds terrible things sprung,

Melting upwards into horrible humanoid creatures

Made from malignant bits, fetid flesh and bizarre bones, weaved together.

Their bio-weaponery stank, shooting rancid lasers at violating velocity.

These rotting robots wouldn’t stop till Jaysun was dead.

Their mangled forms advanced and

It seemed our hero would be overcome with their putrid power.

Fearing her love shield wouldn’t suffice

She uses a voice engine

Rendering her words sentient.

The wicked whisper seemed to swim

Corrupt and confuse their regurgitated bodies from within,

The Zombots fuse into a pulsating cancer of bone and meat

This violently erupts,

Spitting sinews and splintered bone, cutting its diseased neighbour down.

.

Layer 3:

.

Now armed with Meedeeuhs shamanistic song shadow

He prepares for the ultimate battle; to tackle the malevolent Monsect

With its bastardised exoskeleton and an array of angry appendages.

Ghostly heads that gorged on grief.

A tongue that seemed to fork forever

Searching for death from a mouth even evil was afraid to lurk in.

Despite its destructive capabilities it wasn’t immune to Meedeeuhs murmuring machine.

So when Jaysun synchronised it while unloading his Spray Gun

the Monsects consciousness evaporated.

In that frozen moment he snatched the Shimmering Skin from its golden holding cell.

Leaving behind this hell

With Meedeeuh as his wife and sporting an extra magic epidermis,

They flew off to the planet Iolcos in love.

.

(and that’s another story)

.

Medea

by Rebecca Audra Smith

i

Brew me a new life
out of green thumbs and songs.
Make me young as I was when I thought
our souls are made of sky colours.
I will plaster myself in marble
I will build my own tower
I will let you slit my neck
and fill me with fresh flowers. 

ii

She promised youth,
she said, give me an ewe,
no, on second thoughts, a ram-
head heavy with horns-
and I will restore spring.

The pot was too small.
She stuffed the whorled body,
legs sticking out at right angles,
it bleat and then it shrunk,
leaving behind the sack of its old shape. 

iii

Drain out the stale blood,
we must fill ourselves with life.
Daughters, stab your fathers,
sharpen the knives. 

When the corpse is quiet
and the moon is high
we will fill it like a chalice,
we can but resurrect or die. 

.

_____

.

* =One of the poems to be included in our ‘Transformations’ Exhibition/Poetry reading September 2014, Hanse House, King’s Lynn, Norfolk

.

You can find out more about Adam and Rebecca here: 

.

.

.

.

Adam Wimbush

http://wrongtriangle.wordpress.com/

https://twitter.com/Wrong_Triangle

A warm welcome goes out to Adam who has joined the project half-way through.

nb. The group of ‘Transformations’ poets is now formerly closed. 

Rebecca Audra Smith

http://beccaaudra.wordpress.com/

https://twitter.com/BeccaAudra

 

 

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