ON THE PLEASURE BEACH

gummed wrapping, fresh
– twenty-four exciting
new flavours,
cultural references
to collect

timeless representations
of human truths,
opera, shadow or mirror images,
a dialogue of Dionysian
abandon
            distant rewards of Time,
immediate delights of Pleasure
the only constant ambiguity

Pleasure salutes to Pain

when ones childish fingers stumbled
through the works of Zemlinsky
that bridge atonal
and serial works
influences and cultural milestones
two forms
               of cryptic
message communication: enigmatic
utterings of Delphi,
spy number transmissions
on the shortwave radio

an abandoned
                    military building
where blocks of colour meet
I was reminded of painting

Master William turns the handle
and
      notes come. It is a Player
Piano  that is, a piano
without a player

at noon, on every Sunday
something happens
a bizarre piece of art
Breaking the Code  something
weird
       and wonderful: false
colour satellite
image of Suffolk: colours
dark, very dark red/black,
coniferous trees; black/blue
water; blue urban areas,
bare earth. In various
order ranged as Time
sets all things right

at noon, on every Sunday
and then
lets be fashionable
and say art died

flawed and driven genius haunts me,
symbolist poetry and a rich
palette of sounds,
short grim apocalyptic
portent of war

Ophelias journey into madness,
symbolic voyage through love,
rarely heard
                 mythology and sounds
in an essay of exoticism,
elegant phrasing, glistening
fingerwork

only faith that is necessary,
lushly welcoming Death

an age of tension and anxiety
 not Bolshevik illiterates but men
with a musically educated ear
 Balzac, Proust all that
is sociology,
                  predominantly
quiet sonorities

Having an avid interest in all varieties
of arcane weaving
                          of the Middle East,
chevaux-de-frise, portable barriers
of spikes designed
to check cavalry charges
Samuel Becketts favourite
piece of music was Schuberts Death
and the Maiden

taken from a ballet and full
of lurching waltz rhythms,
every utterance a distillation,
prime heather-covered heathland
sea views from the cliffs,
mythological depictions
                                  of women
moving through this world
with unearthly ease

waterproof footwear is essential

I suspect never again
will I carry a marimba across a beach,
cut swathes
through the intellectual fabric of Britain

born in the year
of the October Revolution, he talks
about culture and politics,
distorted dance music
and warped waltzes

embodies a degree of spiritual
searching, earthbound and obvious

an eccentric collection of acts
trapped in a war-torn homeland,
recent responses
to war and peace

at noon, on every Sunday
two forms of cryptic
influences and cultural
milestones, painting
where blocks of colour meet

I know where theres some turnips





FORMALITIES

uprights in a vertical
landscape
green head of pine
against blue

after-rain clarity
on a flecked curl
of birch bark
fag-paper thin

lines of fresh plough
deep in angled light
technical drawing
in loam & fine sand

sulphur yellow lozenge interrupting
a vista of green
dabbed with red cottage roofs
beneath powerlines

only needs a Van Gogh
& how
might the rape field
have held him

what might Man Ray
have done in Kodacolor
chromatic detail
in the armpit & areola

of Nusch Eluard
the fine hairs
would make desolate
pornography

sunlight on a film of oil
makes it seem the sheen
on the mallard
has washed into the river

the ripples
extend beyond the frame


                   © Aidan Semmens 2002