#6 “The Provocateur”…[Series Poetry-Painting]

#6 “The Provocateur”…[Series Poetry-Painting]

(deviates from substance and depth, using my artistic visual definitions)

final HD the Provocateur Cover page

 “A woman is a never ending 24 hr ticking machine… a victim of misogyny, an old cultural religious political ideological hate attitude for females, referred as the weaker gender…  yet  she maintains her female mysticism, a weapon she and only her, the woman, possesses… causing the downfall of the so-called powerful gender,  male!”__ade caparas manilah

 

 

“a woman how precious”

  

you are the sun and the moon

the light and the darkness

the good and the evil

the love and the hate

you graze you ruminate

day and night your mind works

you move even while in rest

always at the mercy of the moment 

feeling neither lonely nor gaiety!

To some religious teachings:

In Buddhism, the male monks are morally exalted to the highest and though the mothers and the wives are  also given important roles, feminist scholars still emphasized  some misogynistic nature in Buddhism.

In Judaism Torah, Adam’s first wife is Lilith, both were created at the same time from the dust of the earth… but with Lilith, God used the filth and sediment instead of pure dust, the reason why they never had a harmonious union… Lilith found it offensive to sleep and have sex with Adam, claiming they are both made from the dust, thus they are equal… Lilith left Adam, she becomes the demoness whose offsprings with Adam produces innumerable demons that continue to burden mankind up to our present time. 

In the Christian bible, God created Eve from the ribs of Adam as his second wife establishing male authority, commanding her to be subservient to her husband. At the story of the Fall of Man, the myth, Eve as being the cause of ills and sufferings; her action to make Adam partake the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge , which had initiated the death of mankind! God cursed Eve, “ I will multiply your labour and sorrow; you will bear children in pain; you will yearn for your husband, and be ruled by him…

In Islam, the number 34th verse is the key verse of the feminist movement: the verse reads, “Men are the maintainers of women because Allah has made some of them to excel  others  and because they spend out of their property; the good women are therefore obedient, guarding the unseen as Allah has guarded; and (as to) those whose part you fear desertion, admonish them, and leave them alone in the sleeping-places and beat them; then if they obey you, do not seek a way against them; surely Allah s High, Great.”

Weininger in his book Sex and Character, characterises “woman” as essentially “nothing”, sans real existence, none effective consciousness  or rationality.(47)

Schopenhauer on his essay “On Women” (Uber die Weiber), claims, “woman is by nature meant to obey”.

Nietzsche on his book, “Beyond Good and Evil”, he said, “Women are less than shallow” and “Are you going to women? Do not forget the whip!”

Kant and Aristotle writings contained unsavoury statements of sexism and racism. Hegel’s view of women , on his “Elements of the Philosophy of Right”.

“Women are capable of education, but they are not made for activities which demand a universal faculty such as more advanced sciences, philosophy and certain forms of artistic production… Women regulate their actions not by the demands of universality, but by arbitrary inclinations and opinions.”(52)

In politics:

It is often witnessed in all countries that women usually come a mere second to male politicians, where they are even publicly ridiculed during their frontal debate’s campaigns!

To my mind: 

these are thoughts coming from the minds of insecure  souls, who in truth  finds women as a threat, an unavoidable opponent, a ‘sun’ duplicate, the source of interesting life; a ‘moon’ romance that can displace a CEO’s $10,000,000 monthly salary; that sight of  pomegranate’s pair that  bounces as her heart beats beats beats__dropping a priest’s sash; that arresting stare, saying no word but makes a man miss his wheel… ahhhhhhhhh… woman, a temptress who, in fact is a sure winning mystiques.

To the minds of others:

Famous artist, Van Gogh said, “there is no such thing as ugly woman.”

“Sure God created man before woman. But then you always make a rough draft before the final masterpiece.” __Author unknown.

“The average woman would rather have beauty than brains, because the average man can see better than he can think.” __Author unknown

“A woman can say more in a sigh than a man can say in a sermon.” Author unknown.

“Women get the last word in every argument. Anything a man says after that is the beginning of a new argument.” Author unknown.

“i, a woman”

my tears of thanksgiving

now i am sure

i am a strong hard rock

seasoned tempered mellowed

i conquer… outdo

the Prince of Darkness

impulsiveness anger

out of my system

thanks thanks thanks! 

 

“woman unstoppable” 

 

nothing is unstoppable 

aging decaying dying

darkest shade-colour of mankind 

ever assigned towards my end

unconsciously or consciously  

would image through my lifetime

i voluntarily accept

to attain peace of mind

the only key to joy.

“my Dotism”

my starting dot was carried by a violent wind; stretched moulded within a white box sprayed with mists of sweetness- exposed only to the righteousness and divine virtues of extraordinary human being, until  my thinking, my dotted mind, starts to wonder why tiny little stars in the sky blinks!

my adult-child thinking, like candle drippings, walk sneak climb fly… unearthing life’s emotional, financial, spiritual, health struggles; life’s vicious adornments of envy pride greed lust creep slowly with the duet dagger-smile and manipulative warm touch… ahhhhhhhhh… my lace-ripples of naivety, walks in whisper, naughtily trots, tempting canters, and eventually, the daring gallops. _my glimmering swings unstoppable… is this destiny… luck?… ahhhhhhhhh, nooooooo, my own choices!my dot has its way of playing my womanhood!

 

Expressionism prose & poetry by: _ade caparas manilah

friday 2:04pm 23 november 2018

lanecove west, nsw australia

 

#5 “The Provocateur”…[Series Poetry-Painting]

“heat and nakedness” (deviates from substance and depth, using my artistic visual definitions)


final HD the Provocateur Cover page

“nakedness is not the bareness of our physical body, rather, it is the honest exposure of our soul and spirit, while, heat is the extremes temperance.” __ade c.

 

friday 2:09pm sydney 02 november 2018

it is this heat of summer that  makes me love the sight of you, the rolls of sweat that glitter on that tanned porcelain skin, ahhhh… i love you, shaming me to the nakedness of my territorial  sensuality… i lay flat on my white cotton bedsheet, my purpled hair let loose, my half-closed eyes seeing a yesterday landscape when my jewelled toes, got hooked on torn part of the bedsheet… circling, circling my toes around it, such tickling sensation!

ahhhh…

how can i feel lonely

hallucinating this romantic fantasy

an erotic intimacy!

live alone… by myself

“don’t you get lonely?”

they would casually ask

‘no’, my immediate answer.

‘my life is on a plateau of joy!’

in intimate connection

with all things that surround me

the ambience of my home

my succulent plants garden

the crystals dining table reflecting my fetishes 

my bedroom, my bubblebath, my pergola, my poetries

set me in intoxicating mood…

the songs of  Charles Aznavour puts me in exotic motion

all these…  set me to my artistic creativeness!

my new neighbour, the grouchy Sofie, who is always snooping around, just passed by with her dog Lester… ruined my daydream bonanza; Zozo started to shout-bark and she snapped back at Zozo, “shut up, you annoying rat”! 

 

my rejoicing spirit 

gets into whirling tornado

when i catch a glimpse 

of this 62 year old woman

winds tighten its intensity

as if i am trapped in a elevator for 24 hours

lol

discipline  discipline 

my reaction!!!

a cooler breeze suddenly come bursting, hahaha… my lovely neighbour, Sanita, “ade ade, here’s your requested ‘halo-halo” ( a Pilipino desert; sweetened beans, jackfruit, coconut meat, custard, etc. topped with crushed ice, spilled with milk), she shouts at my gate! 

 

wow wow wow

ahhhhhhhhh… life

the repeat coming ang going of

darkness brightness

birth death

laughters tears

love hate

cold heat

nakedness helps! 

 

a surreal poetry-painting by: __ ade caparas manilah

Lanecove West NSW Australia

#4 “The Provocateur”…[Series Poetry-Painting]

” a woman’s mystique”


final HD the Provocateur Cover page

 

sometimes in my solitude, i would ask myself, “what if i had made the other choice? What if i have chosen to be a career woman? __ yet i believe in destiny, whatever however choices i had made, i am certainly destined to encounter the same degree of life in this world.

 

 

it’s now midnight my darling

crossroad of my life

confused so confused

am i black or am i blue

is it north or south…  east or west!

nothing nothing is incontrovertible

but 

surely… however whatever

regret is never a choice!

happiness is a choice

but is it enough 

to choose right?

fresh as tulip,

i dreamt to be

a mom of 12 kids, a huge home, a grand piano

but then… 

i was a scholar

groomed for a big career!

well pronto… my first dream opened i have chosen it! But though i survived the thorns and bustles, tears and joys  combined, i still wonder, “what if i had chosen the other path?”

surely… 

the same routine of struggles 

though in a different angle… 

but

how is the end-result?

this is the hidden 

woman’s mystique

however…

regret is never a choice! 

 

an expressionism poetry-painting by:

 __ade caparas manilah

sunday 2:19pm 28 october 2018

Lanecove West NSW Sydney Australia

note: a revised version of “My lips” series 2016 Sydney NSW

 

#3 “The Provocateur”…[Series Poetry-Painting]

“is nature the eternity i expect?”

final HD the Provocateur Cover page

i am at the winter of my life, my mind works like a horse on a gallop…  from a walk to a trot to a canter… unnoticeably galloping! 

this gold glimmer of 7th heaven

is somewhat a passing breeze

and even if i take a snap of it

it will never be back, 

never to be duplicated

ahhhhhhhhh…

if only time will keep still

even for few seconds

then, i can get a glimpse of eternity. 

 

i try to retrace my shadows

but it also won’t keep still

for every movement i make

goes to yesterday

a yesterday that refuses 

to clarify, so elusively zeroing

 my mind in its blurry image 

whether it’s joy or sadness

my fingers refuses to portray.

 

9:30 am (having my cup of coffee here at my ‘pergola’

As i lean against the corner post of my pergola, weighing the passing drizzles that have been on an off-on gymnastics for more than three weeks now, i caught the tail end of Roy’s motorised wheel chair, which i often refer as Roy’s ‘Ferrari’. Roy, a 92 year old neighbour, can still proudly walk inspite of that bundle pillows his back carries- but only for few minutes or else, he will be romancing and kissing the shadow of his steps. Gads, he still exhibits a pair of googling  eyes on beauty like a teen; every morning, he would be on his way for a cup of coffee at a nearby cafe and when he comes back, he would be handing me a stick of choclat ice cream! My other neighbours tease me as his lover! hahahaha!!!

sing a song of love in a bath tub

dance the conga while cooking

sway dream on a hammock

walk a mile a day

eat what you like

make love…  lol make love!

enjoy your life

why count the minutes 

in complaints?

 

death is always

but a foot away

we are all destined anyway

so why worry

go lucky be happy

throw all your garbages

make beauty surround you

be youthful and healthy

look at me… lol!!!

 

do i labour in abandonment  

won’t i ever reach a conclusion 

would i ever know my own praises

would i always be in mysticism 

not knowing how when do i end?

would i be a part of your nature

a tree a flower a bird or rain

is nature the eternity

i expect?

note: 

Impressionist art is a style in which the artist captures the image of an object as someone would see it if they just caught a glimpse of it. They paint the pictures with a lot of color and most of their pictures are outdoor scenes. Their pictures are very bright and vibrant.

impressionism poetry-painting by _ade caparas manilah

friday 6:59pm 19 october 2018

Lanecove West NSW Sydney Australia

#2 “The Provocateur”…[Series Poetry-Painting]

“fetish of perfection”

HD ade imperfectionMy gardening eccentricity of stainless-ness;  picking dropped leaf one after another, sooner than it has fallen, reached its saturation point when Sofie, a new neighbour from Poland, who  has recently moved in a unit next to mine, and  who, in her eagerness to get rid of the muddy soil that thickened  her pathway after a pouring rain, started to shoot a strength of water hose on it… pushing all fallen dried leaves along my new garden wire groyne…  “Please pick up all the leaves before or after you target your water hose,” i said profiling some kind of displeasure.

“Why, it didn’t enter your property,” she curtly replied.

“Pick up the leaves… pick up the leaves,” i shouted back like a piercing cat, uh uh uh… my fetish of perfection obliged my tongue… surfacing my most uncontrolled  attitude. “Where’s your common sense? Don’t you see me meticulously  keep my garden free of unsightly garbage.”

 

fetish of perfection

causing

poison gas to line a blue sky

with a baton thunderstorm

dropping acid rains!

 

fetish of perfection

the beauty the delicateness the fragility 

the perfection of a white rose

mirror a character

dirt elevates mankind static and backward.

 

fetish of perfection

ties to pillow passéistes of attitude

clumsy tone of undiplomatic language

an imperfectly licked ice cream

metamorphosing back and back.

 

fetish of perfection

yesssss… against non-common sense

a cry,  a remorse occurring  

suddenly naked 

before the eyes of a zigzag  world!

a surreal poetry-painting by: ade caparas manilah

thursday 10.54 am 18 october 2018

Lanecove West NSW Sydney Australia

#1 “the provocateur”[series poetry-painting]

The Monster-Man

Now now now, i shift my mind to nature… gardening; talking to flowers birds pebbles stones rocks soils woods… my keyboards are ax shovel sow hammer, nails screws wires ropes, etc.,__ my veins muscles bones actively throbbing pulsating more than my brain, and though my feet hands body are plastered on the ground, my soul thoughts heart, float-like on a high-rise 100 level building, imaging a grandeur view of mankind! How how can  i poeticize paint sculpt a landscape of gnawing anxieties… despairing alienations?  Has mankind reached the point of no return, where their fears are now turning to hate, to satisfy their unbearable tensions? From my imagined  height, i see a sight of an egg twirl conga samba boogie on a boiling pot.

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Amazingly, my gnawing spirit has produced the siamese -twin of hypocrisy… the physical beauty of a pergola, side by side with my poetic image of a Monster-Man; hypocrisy of creation!!!

final ade tools

the Monster-Man

a recede of cumulative dishevels… 

spring-rain of tears

summer-heat of famine

autumn-leaf of discontent

winter-virus of floating anger

the new  nature landscape

gnawing anxieties… despairing alienations…

a lovely landscape?

 

ahhhhhhhh…

i see your reflection 

ala Shakespearian’s literature

a symbolic consciousness 

yet, you are 

but a man-stroke fire  

whose ashes have not 

the traces of man

you are the Monster-Man!

First Poetry-Painting by Ade Caparas Manilah

wednesday 9:37am 17 October 2018

Lanecove West NSW Sydney Australia

#49 2018 Blog “Woman, A Succulent Specie”

“Woman, A Succulent Specie”

NOTE: my new recent love, poeticising, grouping artfully, succulent varieties:

many times a woman falls in love then… no more, then… again and again and again… tears again and again and again… like a succulent plant, she’s a rare ambrosian; a fleshy tasty delicious flavoursome yummy grapes!

i wish to banish that scintillating parfum that puts me to a standstill… a nagging shadow that haunts my valley, a private valley that once upon a time video-ed our romance…i search i shout for a tsunami to get rid of ‘love’; its pulpits its attitudes its sentiments;   succinctly erased from the horizon; and welcome a rising dawn that would once again exalt colours of rainbow… enjoy the wrestles of windstorms, striking thunderstorms floodgates of lava.

ahhhhhhhhh… my blood surging like tsunami reigning in laughters!!! __would i love once more, would i compare, would there be rival meanings… gads, i would let these wrestling matches melt themselves to nowhere and flower new buds… dancing moi endless in the meadows of nonlocation; a flying saucer without a site; a coruscating accident i’d call; triggering a vexatious punctum, simmering into bliss.

i, the woman, could be alone but never lonely, i am a detached leaf… i am free to go north, south, east, and west, carried by the wind, i shall treasure every moment of my ‘now and here’… and once in awhile lay on my tummy, under the expanses of blue sky kissed by the cold breeze and tickled by the soft wind __i shall close my eyes; shall refresh my ‘then and there!’ __ life is simply awesome… i shall whisper, “honey, my honey… it’s marvellous…  ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh… that lovely night”!

we foxtrot in graceful dips 

never minding the many stares

the music seek not to stop

our lips… seal, glue

clock stops… as we embrace!

you look at me

ahhh… as if i’d melt 

moulding me like candy balls

playful tongue faddy lips… play sip roll.

i am deliciously consumed… a WOMAN!

as a poet, times when i feel terribly in naughty-want… while it could be engrossing, possessing to read love poetries, yet if it’s explicitly  languaged, it becomes a distaste nuisance, pornographic in lustful tone… but pornographic poetry could be utterly interesting if intricately sculpted in the metaphysical form… so, let me interestingly ink my erotic  “the goddam colgate”… in my dim lighted bathroom, the music sounds Rod Stewart’s …  “I SAW YOU LAST NIGHT”

the melodious wind chimes

a hold, my fingers numb

the press the squeeze

a wish for its mossy abundance

ahhhhhhhhh… i remember.

my hands tremble

my hands like a tickling spoon on a saucer

artfully smothering 

then…

ahhhhhhhhh… i remember.

a snakelike mint flavour squirts

the goddam toothpaste 

COLGATE’s last spurts

a sighing heat mist

ahhhhhhhhh… i remember… 

 

_ade caparas manilah

tuesday 5:26pm 21 august 2018

sydney nsw australia