Tuesday, March 25, 2008
The Proposition
I recently received The Proposition in the mail from my Netflix list. This Western was released in 2005 and I never got a change to see it in the theaters. I really wanted to when I found out that it was written by Nick Cave. Sadly, I missed it's run in the theaters.
I am a fan of the Western movie genre and this film was quite unique in the fact that it took place in Australia. I've never seen an Australian Western. This movie has a phenomenal cast including Guy Pearce, Ray Winstone, Emily Watson, Danny Huston, and John Hurt.
The film was gritty, bloody, and beautiful to watch. I enjoyed the story and all of the actor's performances. However, I felt it to be quite slow moving. The movie was under 2 hours long and I kept checking the clock. That was the only thing I had against the film. I am aware of the sense of dread, romanticism, and longing that the slow moving elements of the film contributed to. I still had a problem with that.
But besides that, the film was great and well worth my time. I would suggest anyone who likes a good Western or is simply a Nick Cave fan to give this movie a shot. It's definitely not your regular run of the mill Western movie.
If I had Stars, I'd give this movie 4 out of 5.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Spacelords Episode 1
Just when you thought sketch comedy was in the toilet, Human Giant is there with the mother of all plungers to rescue the heaping pile.
Bless them.
Friday, February 08, 2008
Bullet Proof
I woke up in the marsh today
amidst the mist and fists
I pissed myself thinking
that I didn't know my right from wrong.
Inside outside mellow blue.
I think of you.
I miss my shoes.
Bare feet on bear rug and barely knowing
yet completely showing.
There's that growling noise again and...
I run through this marshland space.
No face.
Race..
Races...
Spaces....
Mist upon mist and list in my brain.
Where am I? Why am I? Who am I?
Spartacus.
No race or races just spaces and faces.
I feel full of nothing and nowhere
and this blue becomes gray.
The marsh becomes harsher
and the blades of grass feel like ginsu on my heels.
Wheels spinning while the face is grinning
and I'm still running but my legs don't move.
The blades find the groove
and the green becomes red.
Spilling from me into the ocean's bed.
The mist becomes thought
and my brain feels wrought.
Iron clad and nude irony.
Spiraling spirals.
Viral, my thoughts
Killer shots to the arteries.
I'm in the forest being chased by trees.
The leaves cleave and the green becomes red.
The blue in my head.
The mist amidst the fists to the chest.
I tried my best.
I shed the vest.
Bullet proof, my ass.
-AP 2/8/08
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
The Bone Parade
The music man sits amidst the pile of bones
Eyes crooked on dirty wrinkled face
Humming an awkward sound in awkward tones
His hands move fast in strokes through this space
Clavicle bone now clutched in his left hand
And a clean baby femer in the other
He rises to his feet, searching for the band
Awkward tones form a song for his mother
Feet stomp to the ground below him
The bones clank and move all around
Neck bone, t bone, steak meat trim
He hollers loud to find the right sound
The clavicle collar provides a rock steady beat
Baby femer drum sticks and feet without toes
The bones beneath his skin accompany the heart its heat
The band meets his highest highs with their lowest lows
They march in unison and follow his lead
Hammering their dense bone machines loudly
Up ahead, he hollers and skips to pick up speed
Marching steady, banging his drum proudly
-AP 01/30/08
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Close Your Eyes And Count To Ten
Close Your Eyes And Count To Ten
From the floor, the phone starts to ring
From his mind, images of a ring
Clenching his heart, the fist of this thing
His pores scream, his eyes sting
He bangs his head against the wall
Anything at all to avoid the call
Blood and stone and steal and bone
On the floor, pieces of a broken phone
There's faint remnants of her in this place
The scars on his arms and tears on his face
He writes her poems in his mind and in dried blood
The memories weigh heavy like mad thick mud
From the floor, the phone starts to ring
From his mind, images of a ring
Clenching his heart, the fist of this thing
His pores, they scream
His eyes, they sting
In his hand, he holds a brick
In his throat, he chokes on sick
In his mind, he stops the noise
Head against brick, he chokes on sick
The bells don't stop and only get louder
Coughing on the air like stone powder
His scars bleed fresh and the tears come again
Close your eyes, and count to ten
-AP 12/20/07
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