I'm Charlie. Human. Facilitator. Activist. Therapist. Student of Life.
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A sienna spray painting of a Rastafarian smoking weed, eyeballs rolled back in reverie, resting on a concrete slab
An emerald tangled forest labyrinth, laced with species so exotic to their weighty Victorian envelope they are suspended in stupor: yet, neatly installed in the heart of this nostalgia-drenched museum, no one would know how much they long to smash through the surface of their glass dome captor and reach for the stars A car leading the green energy revolution, engine so silent it could be a heartbeat buried beneath a baby’s bosom A panel van, boom box beating, parked upon the cobbled curb, occupants thrusting bottles of lolly water upon unquestioning passers by, who relish their gift of nothing A poor man, lotus position, sat upon swaddling clothes, lost in conversation with his sleeping lab, pelt as shiny and black as a freshly polished patent leather shoe, rolls of skin know not the virtues of vanity A small boy, but four, wriggling with laughter, he gently beckons his father, who bending down from his great height, an act worth waiting for (thinks the boy), finds himself at the receiving end of playful gleeful trickery when a chubby starfish hand shoots out, like a venus flytrap and tickles and tugs his under-chin with such gusto the boy might be the world’s greatest cow maid – boasting a hundred pails to the minute; with joy, the boy strips a cabanossi clean of its wrapper and chomps in between gleeful outbursts A spinning metal tree decorated with reflections of a cherished monarchy, four by six inches, full colour, gloss, 360gsm, priceless Centuries of wisdom sat upon great wide shoulders draped in soft Navajo moccasins and velveteen, resigned to busk for their bread, whispers of richness, bravery and pride spoken through pan pipes whose mellow tones spread a wistful humbling calm along main streets, back alleys and squares, over building tops, finally resting gently within a thousand hearts Inflated rubber balloons, contorted into elongated creatures and critters, who, hugging steadfastly to their makeshift pole of a home, wolf whistle expectantly at young children skipping past, their life’s aspirations distilled down to but two fantasies – to be in the loving grip of a moist sugar dusted hand or to float freely amongst the clouds A mother pig, petrified quite literally, as she suckles five hungry piglets – what sculptor would wish such a thing upon a gentle unassuming hog An alfoil tin overflowing with pencil shavings topped off with cling film and barcoded sticker, no wait, not pencil shavings but scrapings of salted shrivelled skin of pig, oink, crunch, crackle, munch, the mum above is now, not stone but lunch Men, painted neon, bones dissolved, skin turned to flaccid rubber, height compressed to 10mm (products of a long northern winter perchance?), flipping and flopping their merry way down a centenarian wall, children watching in raptures, the wall would soon be rid of this boisterous coloured rash, but summer’s here so wall’s must wait, masonry knows not to overstep the mark A dwarf, spray-painted gold, flimsy plastic Viking hut, happy wrinkles, recesses so deep many a ray the sun has lost to them, he’s sat upon a box watching the passing crowds ebb and flow, ebb and flow, sometimes they leave a metal token or two in their wake, sometimes they stop and stare – through him but not at him, sometimes they cry, sometimes he does too A Danish snail, shell so pretty perhaps Picasso lent down and dabbled on it as she migrated North A girl learning that her grandma’s gone to a world between this and that, sleeping, will she wake? A thick, scrubbed pink glass jar, gently warmed by a candle burning brightly within its tum A stone, gnawed clean of its sweet plummy flesh and sat upon a butter-coloured paper post-it – remnants of a tree’s fruit re-united with that of its trunk A black tiled roof, watching as rain runs in rivulets down its sun-aged back A wish to see a cat A blade of grass A strand of hair A wink
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A blackboard, white chalk scrawl advertising "fresk fisk" (fresh fish) for all!
Raindrops slippery sliding down glass mountainsides, underbellies showing off to the lackadaisical worker peering upwards, mind a thousand miles away A golden retriever, musty, sodden and marinated in mischief, hiding behind a furrowed furry brow A gardener, covered in life, his once extant mop of hair now eroded completely by the elements, leaving a head so shiny the vain sun might detect her reflection upon it Town-square football tussles, the players' sonorific bodies pealing with, all at once, sweat, exhaustion and thrill A white paper bag, crumpled, replete with crumbs, chin whiskers and laughter's crusts A neon chicken turned zulu warrior, ejecting bright white eggs, whose ethereal glow shows up even the best camouflaged limpets at the base of the murky harbour waters A hotel boat, moored to a dock by little more than the finest cotton and luck; a candy-cane red door ajar, exposing a television wailing inside a dim room, whose quite simply had enough of the fuss A restaurant, music bopping, waiter sailing by as though on roller-skates, tutti-frutti coloured vinyl chairs glistening in the moonlight, sounds of conversation, nobody there A pub, dug beneath the side-walk, soft amber light, a jazz band celebrating the friction of stuff A wall, blue hue un-dampened by the darkness of night, primped red roses enchanted in conversation, oblivious to the shuffling of passers by A box of baby sausages, twisted and tangled together by the hand of a baby butcher, squeezed full of pepper, only to be corroded by acid in the tum of a Dane later tonight A church spire, so tall and grand, it had forgotten the shape and feel of a cobble stone A message on a computer to a girl who is in Brussels An Oxonian, black bob, lamp-like eyes, emerald scarf, fresh from traversing the deep North Sea A concrete cave, stacked full of fluro cotton clothes, hiding the blood and sweat shed in their making, screaming to be bought, but nobody hears cos the music is too damn loud A child holding a bulls-eye coloured kitten, so delicately, with such adoration, you'd not know it was stuffed unless you held your ear to its silent cotton-wool purr-box A young boy crossing the road in grass green overalls so big you could fit his mirror image in either side, gumboots bravely fronting the treacherous puddles beneath his feet whose evil must be stamped out at all cost A wall looking for a crack A crack looking for the perfect putty A jar labeled 'beetroot', its blood-coloured juices hiding the absence of any root A starling taunting the gentle evening breeze like a kitten to a ball of wool A stainless steel kitchen benchtop telling the story, in a million different spots and crumbs, of a week's worth of 20-something's fulfilling their consumptive needs A toothbrush, lonely to be lying on its bony plastic back, staring at the uneventful plasterboard ceiling above A limp A hiccup A smile A homeless man lying back to the world, centre of the main square
A sign advertising a "food pancake" next to a "jam pancake" A young man strumming his guitar, singing to the clouds, while crossing a busy road A mother bicycling, two babies in her shiny red wagon upfront A father speaking with his young son as an equal A cardboard punnet overflowing with green gooseberries so fresh they might burst A young child riding his bicycle, bright new blue pack upon his back, keeping up with the pre-work pedal pack A ceremonial hall, heaving beneath the weight of history A youtube clip of a president admiring the aesthetic qualities of humankind A perfect circle of grass dotted with dew laden daisies, still waking from their brief summer-night slumber A pool of raindrops, greedily lapped up by the thirsty concrete sidewalk A ray of sun being stolen by a window box of white and red carnations - so bright they might be art A cleaner with pink skirt, powder white face, permed hair, sad as sorrow itself, sweeping her mind away A walking brass jazz-band, strutting along the side alley, bringing joy to even the most avid jazz-haters A girl who added her father on facebook to wish him a happy birthday but didn't know where in the world he was An architect, black tee, buddy holly glasses, arm sporting a large tattoo cursing at AutoCAD An iceberg lettuce, dripping in plastic, jam-packed with nothing A shallow canal, surface dappled with gentle breeze, tickling the aquatic weeds below who are aspiring to one day be the sun A tall brick box with rooms next to an ochre home with character A verdent hillscape decorated with small children A fish, dead, mashed, in a tin, slathered with mayonnaise A tree-trunk uprooted from its home, an immigrant from theirs A Jutland face A pierced tongue A vine of almost-pink roses A banquet of cobble-stones A full-stop |
Charlie WoodHuman. Activist. Facilitator. Therapist. Student of Life. Trying to do my bit to build a kinder world. Archives
December 2024
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