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AWAKE

July 17, 2017

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She greeted me this morn. This flower on my path.  The wake up call from my deep slumber.  Her petals laughed in Midsummer wisdom.  That’s when I heard Titania.  “My Oberon!  What visions have I seen!  Methought I was enamored of an ass.”  (**Riddle, all mine.  Photo #nofilter on the path to truth.)

LEMONADE (my version)

July 14, 2017

LIMONCELLO.jpg(Photo: My `READY MADE’ #art and corresponding #poem, below both — words copyrighted–  Susan Kirschbaum)

Behold.  A poor substitute for memories of an Italian summer. Bella Italia.  Boys. Barely there bikinis.  Not understanding the curves.  Of my body.  Of his body.   La Strada.  L’Onda.  Swimming to the white slab of rock.  On a spare stretch of Adriatic Sea.  Where we baked until sunset.  Drowning in immature emotions.  Of something that was almost lust.  Pure splendor.  Masquerading as LOVE.  — by Susan Kirschbaum

My Orb

April 2, 2017

 

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Original Text and photo by Susan M. Kirschbaum

I want to be Golden

Like an Angel

Or Persephone

More likely, Persephone

I spend half my time in Hell

And I survive it

I thrive and create from it

Rebirth

Ode to Jack…

March 29, 2017

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Original text by Susan M. Kirschbaum

Gimme a Beat

Yeah, baby, you’re driving us down Route 66

And we’re writing poetry along the way

And we drink till we drop on top of one another each night,

at a new Motel 6 that we call “kitsch”

And we self indulge as long as we need to nurse these illusions

to boost our shaky self esteem(s)

And, and, and and, and and….

 (*Photo & memories, flashbacks.)

Memories of Brussels

March 28, 2016

puggy_live_concert_ancienne_belgique_bruxelles-9370_-_kmeron-_-_by-nc-ndAncienne Belgique, a place I’d frequented often as a student, to see bands– the Charlatans, the Stone Roses, etc.– in Brussels, Belgium

 

by Susan Kirschbaum

FALSTAFF raspberry tarts
at 4 plus a.m.
Bourse outside, closed
But club kids
Aah, OUI C’est COOL
Black box, playing
Today, a sad day
The Mannequin Pis
The British boyfriend
Tight on his shillings
But, yes, mussels and fries
And weirdly spiced beers
And chocolates and
Synagogues on the outskirts
of town, where
Guards stand with Uzis outside
The Turkish baths
The vintage stores
The lace
The Moroccan restaurants
So much food
So good
So exotic
NATO office idiots
How can they rep the States?
The long bureaucratic lunches
Meats wrapped in puff pastries
Cappuccinos and champagnes
The heady weekend on the lake
When we broke into the wine cellar
Snowed in
Pricey bit of grape
Drinking at all hours
And a rickety oven
So, the chicken, when finally cooked
So slow
Fell off the bone
He sang to me, “She wore a raspberry beret”
With his punk blonde curls
Hanging over one bold blue eye
He skipped in Converse high tops
Till we giggled
From the ridiculousness of it all
The innocence of it all
Of which there is
No more
In these times of surveillance
And invading hell.

A True Artist Never Really Dies: David Jones (Bowie) January 8, 1947-January 10, 2016 The Music-Lyrics-Characters & (yes, dancing!) Will Live Forever

January 12, 2016
One of my heroes, David Bowie. Beautiful artist, unafraid to be himself, every one of them, every incarnation. Yet, offstage, a simple man. Therein lies the beauty.

One of my heroes, David Bowie. Beautiful artist, unafraid to be himself, every one of them, every incarnation. Yet, offstage, a simple man. Therein, lies the beauty.

David Bowie – Heroes

Lyrics:

I, I will be king
And you, you will be queen
Though nothing will drive them away
We can beat them, just for one day
We can be heroes, just for one day

And you, you can be mean
And I, I’ll drink all the time
‘Cause we’re lovers, and that is a fact
Yes we’re lovers, and that is that

Though nothing, will keep us together
We could steal time, just for one day
We can be heroes, for ever and ever
What d’you say?

I, I wish you could swim
Like the dolphins, like dolphins can swim
Though nothing, nothing will keep us together
We can beat them, for ever and ever
Oh we can be heroes, just for one day

I, I will be king
And you, you will be queen
Though nothing will drive them away
We can be heroes, just for one day
We can be us, just for one day

I, I can remember (I remember)
Standing, by the wall (by the wall)
And the guns, shot above our heads (over our heads)
And we kissed, as though nothing could fall (nothing could fall)
And the shame, was on the other side
Oh we can beat them, for ever and ever
Then we could be heroes, just for one day

We can be heroes
We can be heroes
We can be heroes
Just for one day
We can be heroes

We’re nothing, and nothing will help us
Maybe we’re lying, then you better not stay
But we could be safer, just for one day

WHO? Stephen Posen (Zac’s Dad!) Is A BADASS/Photo Outtakes

March 31, 2015
Stephen Posen tempts a tiger in Thailand

Tempting the Tiger in Thailand/Photo, courtesy of Stephen Posen

Whoever said photography isn’t dangerous has not met abstract painter turned photographer Stephen Posen. I delve into his new photography book Ellispsis: Dual Visions (Glitterati) in the following interview for T Magazine.

Yes, Posen is the father of Zac Posen, the fashion designer known for Broadway flair and high taste for GLAMOR.  Zac’s big sis Alexandra works as a fine artist in Red Hook, Brooklyn (She once created masks for theatre director Julie Taymor.)

Thus, the entire family likes to tempt boundaries for maximum impact, whether creating jungles on stages or courting danger to get the ideal angle/shot.

BE WARNED. THE FOLLOWING New York Times ARTICLE MAY CREATE OPTICAL ILLUSIONS LINK:http://tmagazine.blogs.nytimes.com/2015/03/30/stephen-posen-zac-dad-ellipsis-art-book/?smid=tw-tmagazine

Thailand 2 Linda 515FASHION STATEMENT: Stephen Posen models LIVE BOA in Thailand/Photo, Courtesy of Stephen Posen