Once he left...

Once he left, she regained her balance
6x4,1 inches
Graphite on repurposed broken Bisque by F. Lennox Campello 2021

Once he left, she regained her balance
6x4,1 inches
Graphite on repurposed broken Bisque by F. Lennox Campello 2021

 

Monroe's murderer

Monroe see her last visitor (the murder of Marylin Monroe)
Charcoal & Conte on reclaimed broken Bisque
c. 2021 by F. Lennox Campello

Monroe see her last visitor (the murder of Marylin Monroe)
Charcoal & Conte on reclaimed broken Bisque
c. 2021 by F. Lennox Campello

Jose Marti

Yo soy un hombre sincero - homage to Marti
Charcoal and Conte on reclaimed, broken Bisque
2021 by F. Lennox Campello

 

Yo soy un hombre sincero

Yo soy un hombre sincero

De donde crece la palma,

Y antes de morirme quiero

Echar mis versos del alma.

 

Yo vengo de todas partes,

Y hacia todas partes voy:

Arte soy entre las artes,

En los montes, monte soy.

 

Yo sé los nombres extraños

De las yerbas y las flores,

Y de mortales engaños,

Y de sublimes dolores.

 

Yo he visto en la noche oscura

Llover sobre mi cabeza

Los rayos de lumbre pura

De la divina belleza.

 

Alas nacer vi en los hombros

De las mujeres hermosas:

Y salir de los escombros,

Volando las mariposas.

 

He visto vivir a un hombre

Con el puñal al costado,

Sin decir jamás el nombre

De aquella que lo ha matado.

 

Rápida, como un reflejo,

Dos veces vi el alma, dos:

Cuando murió el pobre viejo1,

Cuando ella me dijo adiós2.

 

Temblé una vez —en la reja,

A la entrada de la viña,—

Cuando la bárbara abeja

Picó en la frente a mi niña.

 

Gocé una vez, de tal suerte

Que gocé cual nunca:—cuando

La sentencia de mi muerte

Leyó el alcalde llorando.

 

Oigo un suspiro, a través

De las tierras y la mar,

Y no es un suspiro,—es

Que mi hijo va a despertar.

 

Si dicen que del joyero

Tome la joya mejor,

Tomo a un amigo sincero

Y pongo a un lado el amor.

 

Yo he visto al águila herida

Volar al azul sereno,

Y morir en su guarida

La vibora del veneno.

 

Yo sé bien que cuando el mundo

Cede, lívido, al descanso,

Sobre el silencio profundo

Murmura el arroyo manso.

 

Yo he puesto la mano osada,

De horror y júbilo yerta,

Sobre la estrella apagada

Que cayó frente a mi puerta.

 

Oculto en mi pecho bravo

La pena que me lo hiere:

El hijo de un pueblo esclavo

Vive por él, calla y muere.

 

Todo es hermoso y constante,

Todo es música y razón,

Y todo, como el diamante,

Antes que luz es carbón.

 

Yo sé que el necio se entierra

Con gran lujo y con gran llanto.

Y que no hay fruta en la tierra

Como la del camposanto.

 

Callo, y entiendo, y me quito

La pompa del rimador:

Cuelgo de un árbol marchito

Mi muceta de doctor.

A Sincere Man Am I

A sincere man am I

From the land where palm trees grow,

And I want before I die

My soul's verses to bestow.

 

I'm a traveller to all parts,

And a newcomer to none:

I am art among the arts,

With the country I am one.

 

I know how to name and class

All the strange flowers that grow;

I know every blade of grass,

Fatal lie and sublime woe.

 

I have seen through dead of night

Upon my head softly fall,

Rays formed of the purest light

From beauty celestial.

 

I have seen wings that were surging

From beautiful women's shoulders,

And seen butterflies emerging

From the refuse heap that moulders.

 

I have known a man to live

With a dagger at his side,

And never once the name give

Of she by whose hand he died.

 

Twice, for an instant, did I

My soul's reflection espy:

Twice: when my poor father died

And when she bade me good-bye.

 

I trembled once, when I flung

The vineyard gate, and to my dread,

The wicked hornet had stung

My little girl on the forehead.

 

I rejoiced once and felt lucky

The day that my jailer came

To read the death warrant to me

That bore his tears and my name.

 

I hear a sigh across the earth,

I hear a sigh over the deep:

It is no sign reaching my hearth,

But my son waking from sleep.

 

If they say I have obtained

The pick of the jeweller's trove,

A good friend is what I've gained

And I have put aside love.

 

I have seen across the skies

A wounded eagle still flying;

I know the cubby where lies

The snake of its venom dying.

 

I know that the world is weak

And must soon fall to the ground,

Then the gentle brook will speak

Above the quiet profound.

 

While trembling with joy and dread,

I have touched with hand so bold

A once-bright star that fell dead

From heaven at my threshold.

 

On my brave heart is engraved

The sorrow hidden from all eyes:

The son of a land enslaved,

Lives for it, suffers and dies.

 

All is beautiful and right,

All is as music and reason;

And all, like diamonds, is light

That was coal before its season.

 

I know when fools are laid to rest

Honor and tears will abound,

And that of all fruits, the best

Is left to rot in holy ground.

 

Without a word, the pompous muse

I've set aside, and understood:

From a withered branch, I choose

To hang my doctoral hood.

 All people are born alike - except Republicans and Democrats.

--  Groucho Marx

Extra underwear

 One of the great glitches in the Matrix: Every time that I travel, I always pack extra underwear... why? 

Always...

 Always do whatever's next.

   -- George Carlin

Young Warhol

 

Young Warhol
2021 Charcoal on Bisque by F. Lennox Campello