The ConformistMay 1994
Oil on canvas: 89.8 x 89.5 cm
Artist's collection
(Left click on 'Mole' to enlarge
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Divorce
Seasons
All fresh and new, bird animal and tree
Sweet flowers perform, the hum of the bee
Love’s chance encounter, romance’s soft kiss
Spring’s perfect song, life’s duet of bliss
United in purpose by rituals blessed
Builds neatly a nest, secure and protected
Balmy soft air, herb scented so heady
Greedy plump chicks, movements hesitant, unsteady
Dark skies do gather, leaves crackle and drift
Nest now neglected, young soar on sure lift
Time for departure as temperatures fall
Cold, distance and darkness, now separate all
Knife-edged the wind, trees skeletal bare
Howls icy the chorus of chill and despair
What brought it to this? Who pointed the bone?
Scattered and emptied, nobody at home
Sweet flowers perform, the hum of the bee
Love’s chance encounter, romance’s soft kiss
Spring’s perfect song, life’s duet of bliss
United in purpose by rituals blessed
Builds neatly a nest, secure and protected
Balmy soft air, herb scented so heady
Greedy plump chicks, movements hesitant, unsteady
Dark skies do gather, leaves crackle and drift
Nest now neglected, young soar on sure lift
Time for departure as temperatures fall
Cold, distance and darkness, now separate all
Knife-edged the wind, trees skeletal bare
Howls icy the chorus of chill and despair
What brought it to this? Who pointed the bone?
Scattered and emptied, nobody at home
The Scarecrow
In truth, I am only that which you see
Tweed hat, silk scarf, stuffed shirt; that’s me
Head merely straw, tight binded with twine
Whose free yellow thoughts: herbaceous - but mine
Whilst you, who God-like, created this form
Possess powers unimagined since the heavens were born
Each the capacity to romance, reason and see
May escape the bourgeois; become a grandee
How many though, I wonder, blind viewers remain
Who during life’s seasons cultivate a fallow brain
Never question the claptrap nor voice an opinion
Make lie to the process renowned as Darwinian
Tweed hat, silk scarf, stuffed shirt; that’s me
Head merely straw, tight binded with twine
Whose free yellow thoughts: herbaceous - but mine
Whilst you, who God-like, created this form
Possess powers unimagined since the heavens were born
Each the capacity to romance, reason and see
May escape the bourgeois; become a grandee
How many though, I wonder, blind viewers remain
Who during life’s seasons cultivate a fallow brain
Never question the claptrap nor voice an opinion
Make lie to the process renowned as Darwinian
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