Thursday, June 21, 2018

White Man Dreams

The music filling me, flying away with me, flamingos migrating the 'dark' continent of Africa, ancestral home that returns in dreams.  From Kronos Quartet's 1992 Album, Pieces of Africa, came the inspiration: White Man Sleeps by Kevin Volans.  Listen to the YouTube link to movement II, and follow the pink birds to the blue waters of Bujumbura,
                 https://youtu.be/XNlfD-sGNsQ


Flying to Bujumbura in 2014-15 
Textured, cardstock and canvas papers with a handy map from
National Geographic
©James M. Frase-White 2015



Monday, April 16, 2018

Donald, King of Kings in his Klingon World

"I, of the Storm", 2017,  © j.m. frase-white
 Enamel and Acrylic on Canvas, 17 x 17 x 2

For Kim, Vlad and Donnie, just to name a Few

I told you not to mention
The simulated machismo
Of emasculated men
The dictators and generals
Who “have the balls” to win
Have you heard the harsh, cruel voices
Of those who lead the flock?
They sound like a hacking, cackling
A vicious Shirley Temple cough                                                       
Green witch of Oz upon her broomstick                                      
Dalmatian-coated Cruella, calling “slay the dogs!”                
The prissy rounded Donald mouth
Slime balling like a teenly bitch
In nuclear pinching heels

Let us call for war
Like demons let us fight
For killing one another
Is such a manly plight
We conquer and explode
Destroying all we’ve made
Pretending killing girls and boys
Is such an awful game
And yet we love it dearly
It marks the history line
Generals, admirals, dictators, monarchs
with presidents thrown in
can change Time like Jesus
Just when a war begins
(between pretend a bit of peace time)
And then begin again                                                 
                                                                                                                    “ Oop Lah”                
4/15/2018 ©jmf-w



Thursday, March 29, 2018

Alzheimer the sniper targets Ramona





Ramona

Flames whorl inside her
Seeking the she she misses
Words swim out like fish


A Tribute to all who  suffer this disease.  
I have been working closely with a gentleman, who is a target in range, getting closer and closer
his knowledge and suffering so poignant
his awareness of losing his grip so frightening to him
his art so sharp, vivid, is losing the grasp between object and reality
as it is for Ramona, who worked so hard to maintain her beauty
her grace
while she knew it was slipping away
her mind blurring, repeating, chasing images and nascent ideas
her home has closed its doors
to be forgotten, lost
like her, hidden
no longer answering to "ally ally all in free".