Tag Archives: art

Clipped Wings

All greatness we achieve is exploited in the end,
the language we speak used to condemn,
the letters we write now contracts that bind us to them,
and the paintings we scrawl, presentations of our downfall.

If this absurdity had given us large enough wings,
neither you nor I would be allowed to fly freely with those things,
we all know what such power and elegance brings,
a flood of dead president callers, all holding collars.

We would fly, sure, but only if it suited our benefactors,
they’d pay us to stay grounded, keep the lights on, run the tractors,
overwhelm us with gifts of earth born distractors,
ensuring room enough in the sky for those worthy of flight.

Better to sing for yourself and leave them with silence,
write on the walls of your heart, let their pages feel your absence,
paint pictures to paper your home and let them live in blindness,
what greatness is in you, does not need their value.

Maybe we can’t fly,
but we can bound through life as best we can.

Poetry Collection is up for pre-order!

I’ve compiled all the poems I wrote in the last half of 2022, threw them into an AI art generator to see what would come out and put that all together in a collection.

Full color high fidelity illustrations, over 120 poems accompanied by over 120 pieces of art generated from those poems.

https://www.fontainehousepublishing.com/product-page/a-super-collider-of-zigs-and-zags-by-brendon-behlke

The Art

Life is the sieve that filters our passions,
straining them thin;
permitting only a few freedoms – here
or there,
until the flow of it runs clear.

With a lattice like maze of obligations and tollgates,
keeping all the big dreams on the other side,
our mind desperately scours for starbursts;
reflections of light caught by precious minerals,
hidden amongst all that dirt –
salvation.

Poetry,
is life with cheesecloth.

Ode to the Pen

To you who are so confident in the sharp angles
               who will not bend by force
                          but will shape the mind,
the scales by which our history is judged
        the catalyst for all intellect divined,
I ask, what shape would be made of us otherwise?

Through you we’ve explored our history

Through you we’ve reached

                                                         Out
                 into the future
                                      and found a place there

Whether

                  Quiet

       Or loud.

Through you we have a voice that
transcends
                     our isolation.

The Birth Machine (HR Giger)

Purpose
locked – cocked and ready
action potential set to a trigger
to place the world in sights
and see to it that she is fired upon
and fired upon
and fired upon.

I am told we are violence
we are the natural product of the cosmos
broken, grafted, and manipulated
into perverse projectiles
fired at blistering speeds to our end
a flash of light
a loud noise
a wound.

It hits me with such shock
honesty transcribed in shades of gray
the negative space of brighter days
that lie still in the background,
victims of the machine.

Lakey the Poet

He moves in circles.

There is color all around
vibrant expositions of the world’s intentions
made like a house of mirrors where all paths are equally masked,

So he moves in circles.

How else would you expect
to find form within function
color within reason
those things don’t move like you or I do
they hide in numbers and abstractions
baked in π to elude the errant eye.

So he moves in circles

And he sees it this way
because this is the way it is
interlocking circles engaged with one another
complimenting each other
as we should be with our friends, sisters, and brothers.

So he moves in circles and the world moves with him,
just as he moves with the world.