Check out my abstract art blog!

Friday, December 4, 2009

Painted Aug. 2009

Fondue Cafe' by Kelly Wantuch

The waving of greened trees,
Bustling buzz of a honeyed bee,
We dipped into the sky like a
Strawberry in dark chocolate.

The rushing of the waterfall,
The scampering of hungry Koi,
We slipped into the garden like
An unexpected fragrant blossom.

The zebra grass all erect and tall,
The warbling of the bird’s Ode to Joy,
We slid into the lagoon like a
Lobster soaked in clarified butter.

Shivered with tears and
Light giggled laughter
We shout fervently from
One’s inside rafter.

Peace all around
Savored dimensions
We ignite the inside embers
Of yesterday’s frozen logs.

Lord's Seed by Kelly Wantuch

Wearing black trash bags as shields
We enter into Orland’s
Icy-dew speckled corn stalks,
Plucking tassels out of their
Sockets. Pop! Goes the Weasel!
The sun soon blots up the fog
While horseflies hover around
Like helicopters missing
A wing trying to fight back.
Nitrogen irrigation
Stings our leaf-cut skin, rinsing
Our pollen dusted eyelashes
And washing our white sweat stained
T-shirts giving relief to
Our tattered bodies. It was
Worth it for my first one-hundred
Dollar paycheck at thirteen.
Giving us an all-telling
Waist up tan that announced what
We did for the summer. I
Claimed I wouldn’t do it again,
But I did.

Miss Sybil Eve by Kelly Wantuch

Born as Humpty Dumpty
Searching for some kind of
Attachment she can bond to
But she is scrambled.

Kiss of death ignited
Fierce misfiring of
Flashbacks triggering the
Lightning splice through her brain.

Adrenaline floods her
Fight or flight, wanting to
Escape the big bad world.
She hides far, far inside.

Like lighting a lantern
In the blackest of caves,
She’s there... blackbirded and
Playing tag with her neighbors.

Find her.
Find them.

Hold them

Brother by Kelly Wantuch

I drank it, even though it was blue like a voodoo elixir of life that would somehow change the fact he was found dead today, but it was just Kool-aid. Autopsies speak in tongues. Too many lesion seizures, merits measured by silver-spooned scabs upon scabs. Racquetballs ricocheted through his brain, maybe it was mine, I don’t remember. Family traditions of playing bowling with our heads, Simon with hot colored light bulbs and finding buckshot before Hoppy and Bugsy are gutted and served, all to honor thy mother. I still don’t like games much. Thirty-six year-old centipedes eventually can’t walk when their legs are plucked one by one from birth.Can anyone stop the spew of a stomach virus? A two lined death notice in an unknown city to announce her accomplishment of putting him in her gum wrapper to toss away; I will never let her chew me anymore.

Internship by Kelly Wantuch

It is like any other school
Once you're past the three 
Locked layers and the
Molesting bulldog
Who pats you down
Looking for her lost bone.
Stagnant smell of six hundred
Sweating socks standing attention
In single formed lines,
Hands kept behind them.
Clean clothes, food, and safety
Keeps them there being that
It's an orphanage in disguise.
Show me a picture of  your
Baby, teach me to count
Cards in poker like a pro,
It doesn't matter what,
they just need someone 
To listen. Code ten-ten
You better bunker-down
Unless you prefer to stay
Knowing there is nothing
To come back home to.

Honoring It by Kelly Wantuch

Ignoring elephants
Enlightenment shinning
Magnetic weighting pull
Thrusting you back again

Empirical big knots
Running so fast away.
Calm mysterious force
Purgations of egos
Nothing left to explain.

Yearning towards violent
Attracting the wanting
Needing the obvious
So over and over
Awakening within.

Can't stop the mystical
Blind illuminating
Spiritual truth of what
Plato has always known.

Backyard by Kelly Wantuch

Distant mist of spring
Gluttonous gloomy days.

Graveyard remembrance of
Peppered poop stones.

Crispy snow holds promise
With each step... almost.

Walking on dormant frogs
Spontaneous burial grounds.

Koi pond tranquil mirror
Reflects my denial.

Nature feels lonely
Until crocuses sing!

Sharing by Kelly Wantuch

My paintbrush still weeps for him when I try to create.
Remembering when we met on our senior class art trip
And how it led to our tender times at Bonneville Mill
He taught me how to paint cumulus clouds while I turned
Him on to Miles Davis on a cool mid-summers day.
I let him touch my bra-less breasts on top of Lookout.
Sensations traveled down to my toes that sunset night
Wetting my faded daisy dukes from the inside out
I knew I might lose something that sultry summer,
I didn't ever think it would be him to a damn
Drunk driver on the moist July fourth evening.
I never could attend his funeral on that dark day
So I hung our shared painting in the woods at the mill
Because the body looks farther away than most stones.

RIP Jeremey

Life Cycle by Kelly Wantuch

Cold sweat with shivers of resistance,
Fear of succumbing to the inevitable.

Spasmodic graveling turns me dizzy while
Fabric softener fog assaults my senses.

Fleeing feverishly outside the laundromat the
Two girls stare as I collapse my knees into grass.

Heaving ribs threw the tropical Kool-aid right
Out of me, adding insult to the innocent sidewalk

Like colored confetti fallen after a parade or
Mulberry stains splattered on a newly washed car.

Their talkative chatter froze while witnessing
My baptism of early motherhood days.

Just another rinse cycle of life
Until it repeats itself once again.

Drunk at 4am by Kelly Wantuch

Sitting around the fervid black shrine hypnotizes me as Jon-Jon my beagle lies like
Road kill after his nightlong rabbit scented orgy. Flicking snow off my boots onto the stove
Makes it hiss and spit like Cleopatra's asp. I should go to bed its 4am but the steaming water
Pot has me under its spell. I place my boots on the radiant surface like a yajna sacrifice ritual
Until the rubber melts into my toes. They say do not burn the comics or Creosote Snoopy will
Give off mustard gas killing all around. I shake the exhaust pipe to loosen the flakes, I fumble
Back to my cold bed, hoping Ill wake up again and I will wonder why my boots wont come off.
Painted July 2009

Freudenstine by Kelly Wantuch

Nothing is the same now that it’s personal not professional.
Your denied feelings are as invasive as your golden trumpet vine
Growing insanely on your backyard pergola unstained.
Does she know who you think about when you water it?

Shared Super bowl birthdays, Sunburst racing, red tomatoes and
Whipping out those orthotics while Grandma Moses looks away...
You burned for me Isn’t Life Strange, Why? Because
Frozen gazes at the gym tell me what you want anyway.

Seducing me as you tell me you ate that chocolate vagina,
Maybe this is your new therapy technique?
You should have acquired supervision, because
I was nobody you should have tried to seek.

You tried to hide your burning blush when I
Remembered your birthday today.
But you're an admitted streaker,
You are not as opaque as you always say.

She doesn’t care about the world’s largest music store.
I bet she’d care why you had the need to bring it up.
Does she know why her backyard blueberry bush
Bears more blueberries than before?

My dedicated solo was a goodbye to you,
Even if you didn’t show, tough.
I wish I could hate you, times two.
I have trusted you enough.

This is no land of make believe.
Remember the oath to do no harm?
Does that apply to your wife as well?
Oh, yeah, you said you're a very good liar.

Your winking eyes and
Snapping of towels could only
Confuse.  What the hell?
My feelings are not a twist on your cube.

You quit the gym  like a
Coward that you are, you couldn’t
Face your indiscretions. The only
Real balls you own are for juggling.

You badmouthed me today
To the one who really knows
The boundaries you have crossed,
You can’t fool everyone, you have lost.

My only fault was learning to trust
Believing I was safe under your care,
But I made a big mistake,
And now have only pain to bear.
How could you dare to say you didn’t ever care?