Swansong: reflection in silhouette

Swansong

story book

spray

What Lies Beneath

Short film made by Mert Alas and Marcus Piggott for Love Magazine

Jagged

Enough said

Yesterday I felt like I was going into a  back street abortion clinic to get my "problem" fixed. The result is relief.

SwanSong

Dappled light plays chords
Swimming swirling patterns on
The skulking listless lake.
She gazes out into mystery.
Her kissless lips seek
Uncomforting rays.
She longs for what she lost far far away.
She lost because it does not exist without her loosing her freedom.
Her feet trapped in entrancement
Beating and binding
Pointing and punctuating the uncomfortable stillness.
Her jerking neck stretching out to the remaining hopeless sun.
Bare skin.
Bare skin.
Exposed to the breeze and the shadows of the crippled trees
Watching and waiting
Whispering to the muddied earth.
She longs to love or be loved.
To feel her feathered wing to be free
To be loved by something beautiful.
Her wildness catches her breath as she swirls and sways.
Her poor madness longing and lusting for touch.
She sings wailing wishes to the watery world.
The world that holds the deep dark desires
Where fished conspire to eat and gnaw at her feelings alive.
She flairs her arms as the gasp at last life.
To feel this bound up
Last fight and flight from the such strife.
The devils last whispers of temptation and fear cast spells on her senses.
Her very last tear.

Her shoes wont stop dancing an emotional death.
Her eyes wont stop streaming
Oceans silently falling
Her turning and kicking
Dancing music of sighing.
The wind in the rushes
The doom in the sky
The love that she feels
Such a burning desire.
A furnace an explosion
Her heart burning up
To die for the love
Of an ephemeral ghost.
A moment of dreaming
To dance not alone.
The drinking of truth from her spirit by God
Her swan is a symbol
A prison of life.
She sinks into deepness
The playing doesn't stop.
Her breath failing
And stopping
Not gasping for life.
She lets herself float higher and higher.
No fighting her fate as she falls darker and darker.
Her mind is the clearest
She knows what she loves
To die for this beauty
The beauty of HER love.

Swansong

Personal ongoing project assisted by Eleanor Flynn

"She danced the dying swan to save herself but she never could stop living the fantasy. This was an adult childhood , a way to be free but something stopped her from breathing. The innocence was not real. "

Clarity

Research takes you to some wonderful places

The dance starts at 1.45
The movement is stunning.
In my mind I can see it going somewhere with emotion.

I just love to think that this boy chose to do this. Chose to take something so beautiful.
Somewhere in the world there are people thinking the same as you with the same dreams. The same love and strong passion.

At this moment there is nothing more beautiful in the whole entire world...

I can't think of anything more perfect or humbling or overwhelming.

Swan song II

When I was younger we used to go on trips to the park every evening to see the swans. It was beautiful and summer was good. We would wait for the cygnets to pop put from their eggs and then we would watch them grow. Moor hens would paddle about in the sultry water and the night sky would ring songs. The white majesty built her fortress on the lake, making a palace out of nature. I learned to love the sky for its feeling. Watched the bats swoop and dive. I don't know when this stopped but the swans are in my heart. Fierce, wild, beautiful creatures. They love for life and bond the soul of the currents. The young quickly fly away and escape on adventure living in pure whiteness. Swan song plays in my limbs. The remembrance of a child and heart of humanity. To be.

Swansong 1

She sings her last note
A sigh of shivering breath
Angry fragility
Bursting energy burning to the end
Majestic purity
No stop.
Unrequited beauty
Romanticism of nothingness
It is all in those beautiful arms
Wild freedom free wings
Pulsing musicality
To be alone
Dying alone.
The notes of solitude sing in her feet.