Put a soul
As light as a feather
In concrete skin
And broken shoes
And say 'live human live'
Go into hell and make it look
In your hopeless
or may not
Today, I swore in a job interview and cried at a one legged pigeon because I have a bit of PMT at the moment.
I also produced this work of art. Or am I just playing a game? My bemused brother watched me create it. He offered the suggestion that the hammer and sickle is both a circle and a cross, so there is no clear winner. The crosses we bear and the noughts we become.
Maybe I should just take primose oil and stop asking questions and patronising one legged pigeons.
I have started doing collages, actually there was a compulsion to do a collage of a human being. Maybe I was just feeling all that was wrong with the world, but in my psychosis, human beings were growing shark heads.
Is psychosis a collage of the cutting outs of reality? Dunno. But my source material isn't women's weekly, it is the complex human being.
I get frustrated with people who say humans have fundamental goodness. Tell that to any human being who has died at the hands of someone of his or her own species. It's an insult to them.
No genocide victim will wear that t-shirt, I am afraid. There are both sides to the human. The only thing axiomatic about it is the choice between the two.