Via Flickr:
THE GREEN TRUCK
Switches, bitches pushing buttons, mutton’s dressed as lamb along with the framework of a pram.
A sham, a clam, a shamrock—a real rock, verdant structures like leaves deceives the eye.
One wonders why the door’s concealed there?
Green plastic, elastic globules of PVA medium attire brushes with transparent blobs so it bobs up and down when pushed by the hand of a child wearing a frown.
Drown in implication, the imprecation decipherable among symbolic elements, transistors and tiny batteries; scatter knees as you kneel to examine a vehicle that’s missing some wheels!
It feels deals are done behind your mind, you can’t find the words to explain it—there’s something elusive in the effusive that you must needs remind yourself about, which is a bind.
Its’ juxtaposed fluorescent towers’ silhouettes empowers some, others it plants seeds inside, then it germinates and flowers.
www.narolc.blogspot.com
Free association styled prose from Julian Cloran, visual artist, writer, poet and agent provocateur. Random musings, which are sometimes cynical, but always intended for amusement, stimulation and entertainment. Comments are welcomed so don't be shy. Simply click on 'comments' to post yours.
Saturday, 6 August 2011
THE GREEN TRUCK, RIGHT
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