The Devil Wears A Mechanical Heart

The Last Remaining Grain

Paul Howard — Fri, 05 Mar 2010 13:31:34 +0000

Death is easy for there is nothing to do while living is hard, for you live right up to the moment you cease to live.

Everyone has a story and sometimes fragments of these stories reach us like one did today. The following is a follow on from the post Reg At Sea. We often forget that although we grieve, we are not always the only ones.

The Departing

Crayons for Grandad
as beautiful as the first rainbow who caressed the sky
the weight of the starburst colours,
avid from a delicate hand
waters cries from an old man's eyes
as the last grains of sand
fall
to
cease
and leave him behind.

Holiday Brochures

Paul Howard — Thu, 04 Mar 2010 13:59:59 +0000

Morris the Martian was beginning to think planet earth was not the ideal holiday location and the holoscreen brochures were either lying or very out of date.

So far he had been shot at by various armies, mobbed by photographers when he went pulled up to ask for directions and got a parking ticket, although luckily his trusty Vapourtron had resolved that little issue, and it was becoming increasingly clear by the minute there were no big lizards running around in fancy dress and drinking Moo Moo juice all day, which meant only one thing. No chance of getting laid.

Shooting Humpty Dumpty

Paul Howard — Wed, 03 Mar 2010 13:36:08 +0000

A quick fire off the cuff as it comes writing excerise using Humpty Dumpty just for fun

1
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall.
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
but due to Health and Safetly Law
his safety rope prevented him hitting the floor.

2
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
The crowd shot video on their mobile phones
despite Humpty Dumpty’s terrible moans.

3
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
The lawyers came running
and now Humptys humming on his 12ft yacht.

Safe Cracking

Paul Howard — Tue, 02 Mar 2010 20:51:12 +0000

I am hoping to return to painting next week to finish one and to create new one for at the moment I am finding it difficult to write due to lack of inspiration and an old demon gnawing at my bones.

The following is an expression of trying to break the deadlock between expression and repression, to create something rather than repress lock the safe and spin the dial. It maybe this is the key or an indication to write a section of my biography I have been putting off entitled agony. We shall see.

The ------ is used to represent space since due to format problems spaces could not be used when publishing on the site.

Dislocation

A half sentence is strewn
-------- then buried under a biro ink patch.
Funeral pyres are fed abused words
---------until they grate into mountain ranges.
Dislocation pulls at the joints
----------breaks the pen
injects the devil with adrenaline.

Butterfly Collection

Paul Howard — Mon, 01 Mar 2010 13:46:25 +0000

My nephews came to visit Sunday and is often the case they decided to turn the garden into their very own playground. I took the opportunity of getting some practice with my Nikon D3000 by taking a few photos and playing with settings along the way.

The following is inspired by the immortality photos give but also the mortality as well. Our images remain but often our names fade given time and the failure to record them.

Historian

A postage stamp collection
frozen like microscopic slides
they stretch decades
like stepping stones
each number,
a fragment of a second
labelled neatly as dead butterflies
immortality is given
but their names forgotten
in the failed electrics of memories.

Samaritan

Paul Howard — Fri, 26 Feb 2010 13:36:21 +0000

“I'm lost and alone in the dark and I need a light to show me the way.”

Samantha was shocked by the maturity from one so young. She resisted the urge to say “Well…” to break the bricks of silence, which had cemented themselves across the table. She thought for a moment searching for something wise and meaningful. Something to provide a ray of hope.

Johnny raised his head from the tabletop and look of desperate expectation filled his face.

“Well….”, said Samantha, “…..everything will be okay now…”

“No it wont!”, screamed Johnny furiously banging his head against the table.

Blood Aprons

Paul Howard — Thu, 25 Feb 2010 14:03:37 +0000

I am following the blog I Break My Heart and there is a simple reason because something in the about box got my attention. "I am not a writer; I write because I am compelled to.". There is a contradiction in there but I understand it in the same way I am not a poet, a writer, a photographer or an artist because I am an expressionist. I do.

The following is inspired by the rawness of the human soul, which often now is constrained because we are taught we must conform; our work should tick off boxes and if it does not, we fail. Much like how Pablo Picasso said "All children are artists. The problem is how to remain an artist once he grows up. ". Our children are free without restrictions and then as we transform them to adults we strip it slowly away.

Art is not a science it is a journey of the soul and with it, there is no failure.

Pie Makers

They bake their pies
set a table like an altar,
white wash their paper dollies with smiles like professors jumpers.
Their clean aprons scorn
when pens bleed, break bone and become
the living pie.

The Nest

Paul Howard — Tue, 23 Feb 2010 14:01:32 +0000

Sue has proposed another 5 words this time Happy words.

This is inspired by the recent memory of my father hugging my sister and saying "You're still my bab" even though she is in her late thirties. My father has always said once you are a parent, you are until your death and I guess in the similar way we are still children until we bury our parents.

We make our way in our lives and they watch from afar but in the usual quiet and hidden parental way, they love it more when we come to visit.

Parent(s)

Exhilarate the precious
set them free to watch you sail across the seven seas
they will not forget nor frown
proud they will follow like the sun and moon,
harvest joy from your tales and battles won.
Exhilarate the precious
and never forget to journey home.

Snow At 6am

Paul Howard — Tue, 23 Feb 2010 13:20:33 +0000

The best way to test any camera is in bad light. Walking home at 6am in the morning in a flurry of heavy snow seemed to be the ideal way of testing the iphone camera although a few bottles of ale also might have contributed to the idea....

I used the iphone app GorrilaCam with no alteration to the default camera settings, just fired away and the results where quite interesting and much better than some cameras i have used on phones. There may be more on the move photos if something catches my eye.

On The Beach

Paul Howard — Mon, 22 Feb 2010 16:59:39 +0000

Sue has given me five more words in the forum.

Displaced reminded me of being a kid on the beach; footprints and holes where sandcastles had been dug out before the sea trickled in slowly to claim them. Also razor fish who like land mines were scattered over the beach.

Displaced Sand

Open wounds bleed sea salt
where split
and
broken impressions mark
the rejected kiss
of feet torn by razor fish.