Nov 20, 2014

Theater Carnivale Days!

Photos from back in the daysof Theater Carnivale; a Punk Rock/Avante Garge/Vaudevillian theater group featuring, Stephen Holman, Aaron Osbourne, Johanna Went, Adam Tankell and myself.
Stephen and I performing on the BBC4 Tony Wilson Show in Manchester, England
Aaron, Johanna, Stephen, Toni, Adam
Stephen and me as Felicity the Butterfly and her agent Ricky the Roach on Bug Night
Me and Stephen on Birth Night
Adam, Johanna, Stephen, me & Aaron on Fish Night
Stephen, Aaron, Adam and myself on Fish Night






Oct 15, 2014

WE are Prayers



Last piece cut up from Patti Smith's Dead Poppies on the album Radio Ethiopia

Photos of John Frusciante and myself by Dave Morgan 1998 All over writing Toni Oswald

Jul 6, 2014

In The REalm Of Pom

A parasol, a throne, a footprint
studded with fireflies
specks of frayed light
in Afghanistan
he turns pages  and it all comes back

books were nailed to ceilings
concealing life
memory
the wings of a library burning down

the gun was taken off her head
accusations that someone did not know how to pray correctly
as the sword cut the hand's last act
a pomegranate
a pomegranate
a face concealed
yes, accusations that someone did not know how to pray correctly

machine gun
pom pom
machine gun gun
shattered skin of walls
she is dazed
in paths of blood
where Muslims weep

sound fossils
buried cassettes
he tried to remember
moving under
sentences of death
children's limbs scattered
a large stone thrown at his chest

fire fire
fields of poppies
wasted vigil
dangerous guerillas
exile in Peshawar
fire fire
look now
city ablaze

Art and writing by Toni Oswald copyright

perch without pockets

but I wanted
light all around
hybrid dry
similar to reactions
boys will be
the book
was known how
streets off
we'll never get
floppy
seen them all
thinking about time
you have never known
our taboo conversation
circuit mode
finally came back from her havana
i cannot speak
socially
the door has closed behind
living fire
air like saved soul
one meter in diameter
dazzle he would not
remark about
the tide of pimps
the vision displayed
i had no dough
all in gauze white
i didn't want to go
by back buzz
world of coupling
rich knot
deck milk
itself voice
undone open
perch without pockets

Art and writing by Toni Oswald copyright

The Diary of Ic Explura Live



Feb 11, 2014

~Six Years Today~



His Name Is Maximilian

So here is the earth that the water dreamed of,
This thing is you and me,
Beyond the visible,
Where the idea came forth,
Where it is such a strange sea,
Where,
I could feel you before
I could touch you.
Our union is something like this,
Running through existence,
Holding more than hands.
Made into matter
Suddenly,
And there is your face
As it has always been,
It says, "I understand."
There is god in there too.
I feel so nervous
Because I want to touch what is you.
Because there is so much feeling,
Gushing!
Vanishing from a lonely spirit into birth,
We are the beginning and the end

You let a little fox speak up,
Deep in the greenness,
Of new grasses,
And your mouth stole me away,
With words in that dear sweet letter.
I came into you then,
And you let me,
For what I have known, you have known;
Moonshine and poppies and sadness like dew all over everything.
And it is morning in the fields of the lord,
So dance, dance, dance.
And,
Sing for me your sweetness,
Its been so long,
And it took me awhile to remember
because sometimes we get lost
In the blackness,
The place before dawn
Where it is darkest,
Long overdue in the womb,
Things rotting,
Earth and water making mud.
But,
Putrefaction is renewal in the end,
This patience will be protein
Building muscle,
Building you and I.

To comprehend the enormity of the realization
Oh my....
Let down your shores and my every wave will break there.
Fate tossed me here.
It is not meant to knock you out
But cleeeeeaaaaannnsssse.

My body now bends westward again,
Like waves, yes
Flowing across,
I'm coming home.
There is no where else to go now.
Your understanding will be my map.

And remember what Rimbaud said, "I could never throw love out of the window"
Good god!
Escapes are tender and beautiful 
so,
have we gone into desire?
In this and many more existences?
As birds, cats, bees and lions?
Remember?
Long ago where you loved my violence too!
Assorted broken crowns
Perfumes, blood, war , music. magic and slavery.
Here we are again,
Yes and maybe you followed me here
This time.
And again I am sorry
It took me so long to remember.
My fear was there stalking anything
That made me feel,
And a while ago,
I built a fortress around me,
But your charms set me free,
You and your own kind of witchery.
It was a thousand lifetimes in one sentence that you wrote to me
A band of golden light surrounded me then,
And I knew I was safe,
That I could trust you somehow,
Yes, there it is again
Running through all of this existence,
Holding more than hands,
Holding soul.
You may sleep with what is yours
And always was
Is it necessary to say anymore?

For my amazing partner in life~ Today we have been together six years! Here's to a lifetime more! XO
Poem by Toni Oswald

Feb 1, 2014

Her





Left out and behind,
The mask it was lifted
the blade thrown down

“It is not me, her cried, it is not me.”

Reaching below where all waters meet leading by magic sets the stone the beauty that's curved the morning is

breathing,

her face is found.

Poem by Toni Oswald

Jan 19, 2014

TIME GOTTA GOTTA GET YOU (In Mind)



Time broke pipes down into sound
road loads of lines
to catch timing of spokes
you wrote it off
broke the wheel and told rhymes
joked around and watched
floating daggers take a higher ground
look out son you sound old at only twenty one.

given not better 
to give is to live
unseen unless, 
useless out with out
so give go ahead
try mind
try mind out
mind far out
fart brain  no help
find out
out of time
doubt no help
slow mind
no mind becoming

your route in time
is limited
no doubt about it
no doubt
far out mind 
circles
circles mind 
no doubt
out far the mind 
circles mind
to mend, to mind, 
mine knows, 
nothing mine
here 
who goes?
Hear!
Who tows mind?
Line tower.
You know not your own mind. 
Poems by Toni Oswald

Jan 17, 2014

Hello New Year

I had such a whirlwind last year that this blog completely fell by the wayside, but I am excited to be back in this new year of 2014 and plan on posting as much as possible this year, the year of the wood horse. Here are some recent poems that don't really fit into the new chapbook I am working on coming out sometime this spring. 
Dreydl – (Yiddish – to turn)
Spin to turn Jerusalem to what was once Persia. It was men who turned that screw. Women spin to turn spinning dervish spins to spin through what is only this lifetime, not many but one we spin the web casting spell. Spin the loom this woman's work.
Apollo Born of Dawn
She knew her place among the stars unlike the rest of us who had no understanding of the true light
yet made of carbon all is starry a bright it was in dark and light as something other something heterodox but we are light layed out by darkness exploding into a path we settle for thinking dark thought was separate from light or so we have thought grasping for light running from dark in that place that knows not mercy only eyes shut wide can mistake so much knowing no place always grasping illusive grace small moments are the only space where glimpses are golden shawdows of truth grasped glimpsed now gone what is a mirror what is in the mirror
are eyes really all so reliable? Retinol roads gone nowhere fast
Look the light.
LOADS OF MEN MAKE WHISPERS


Those that are sung song
embryonic
absent in spring
have left the biggest holes
for a seer
prone to dust
we are questioning the whole trip
God
shot around into a great many forms
lies
lusting afterwards
between the sides of this planet
lie african music and crazy wisdom
your destiny falls away
the fact remains
the wonder of the skies
as most smiles will disguise
human life
epilogue rain dancing
swallowing lies
the real lines vanishing vanished
burn these prisoners alive
in fires of sandalwood
seek the other
fine tune the marble eyes
lay down in the sound of time
forget the guru
let the white men understand
immortality is mildewed