First edition of 500 copies
The Muse
Alexander de Cadenet
Artist-Poet of Experience
FIRST EDITION LONDON 2009 www.decadenetworld.com
“Tell her I bring the horoscope myself: One must be so careful these days”.
The Waste Land, T.S.Eliot, 1922 “And to be grasped is but to reach one’s fullness And like a ripe fruit to fall and be consumed”.
“Defeat” , The Madman: His Parables and Poems, Kahlil Gibran, 1918 “….and always it was as though something would happen, something never seen and yet sighed for, as though a veil would be pulled back off the world; till the feeling passed and there had been nothing. The riddle was still unsolved, the hidden magic unrevealed, so that, in the end, people grew old and looked comic….though perhaps they still knew nothing, still waited, pricking up their ears”.
Narziss and Goldmund , Herman Hesse, 1959
To my grandmother, Valerie de Cadenet (aka Karen Scott)
THE MUSE ‘The Muse’ is the first collection of poetry to be published by conceptual artist and poet Alexander de Cadenet. The publication includes sixteen poems illustrated by a selection of his photos. Created over a period of two years, the poems are an exploration of the nature of inspiration through the author’s personal relationship to significant females in his life. Over the course of the poems, a portrait emerges of the author’s chief source of inspiration: his unusual and enigmatic Russian ‘muse’. Like a Matrioshka doll, each poem reveals another layer to the muse’s identity. A wide range of emotions with their contradictions and paradoxes are examined. The muse is both charismatic, imaginative and even psychic in her intuition but on the other hand is excessively manipulative, cruel, devious and into dark occult-practices…
Present for my Sister Fragile egos protect themselves From the light of confrontation And entrench themselves deeply To keep denial alive. Hedging your bets, The barest minimum needed, Experience has made you wise to How fickle the winds can blow.... Timing is crucial Before popping the bubble; Our exchange of medicine Will aid in the long run, Lest contortion allows History to repeat itself... Incantations cast correctly, Communicated completely, The reed bends in the wind: Nature's solution, Distilling the elixir, Working together so those that Touch the Source are protected. Throwing pearls before swine Can be sowing the seed At another time Part pig, part sage. Little moment of intimacy Registered. Profound, surrounded by desert, Drops that percolate through to the soul.
Years Later I saw the sadness in your face As you walked down World’s End; You turned away from me You knew I’d seen… Still repeating the same answers to yourself On the same streets Years later. I didn’t text you, Just let you carry on As I drove back home.
Icarus’s Matrioshka Before Even after being burnt For being curious, Icarus cannot resist to gamble His life force Once again. Russian roulette odds evaluated He bravely steps up To the edge-ac-u-lation, And lets go… An invincible adolescent, Unbridled, unbroken, Supreme once again; A celebration for not being dead yet… A few seconds For a lifetime consequence No frittering possible. “If I didn’t get you before, This time I will”. Tapping him, poking him, punctuating Private moments like Staring out the window Onto the red-brick wall… You call it ‘our exchange’, Well, these are my terms: Being inside you is not enough, As there is no ‘you’ to have…
2. During Look deeply into your half-drained glass, Shall we scrape away that festering Nihilism, Cavity of soul, Stuck between what is perceived and what is real? You have your own life: Then live it. Ownership, Inspected at close quarters; Is little more than slavery, Digest it well, your ‘Liver is the Cock’s Comb’… Exorcise the poison properly. No threat intended, A gentle reminder Conjurer, fellow joker: Rabbit out of a hat Is a fitting trick, Dancing monkeys Are next on stage… His reflection in you Is just a mirage Like the juicy steak in The Matrix, Don’t sign in blood, “One’s children come through you Not from you”, Does not hinder his ‘creations’: It’s grounds for the Matrioshka Who has been the Minotaur Will be…and is currently…
3. After Welcome back to the Here and now! Icarus is promoted to Daedelus, Life-Line an Ariadne’s thread. While clay ovums ripen on the time line, (Waiting silently like dough left upon the shelf), Outside, millions of fluffy Summer seeds Float around the streets‌ Peeling away another layer Never gets to the core, Skins hang on the wall As a poem or painting trophy, In a sacred cave-like place Within twilight, Your !"#"$" %&'(1.
1
Russian translation = den of the soul.
Relics of the Riddle I do it to save myself From losing the meaning You gave me by coming Into my life‌
Goodbye
Cannes
1. Peering over the chasm of eighty six years, Or over three and a half billion beats. Little gasps for breath: in, out, in, out‌ Hypnotic rhythm of strained mechanics As the cogs break down. Shadows fall indifferently, Shapes reach over, Blackening forms creep, The orange glow pales, In twilight confusion.
The next generation sooths, A child once again, You’ve stepped inside Your warm, lonely place, There but not there. Your good eye gently opens, Pierces me through. Standing there motionless, Enveloped in a trance While the solemn smile suffocates, silently, secretly. “Goodbye Granny”.
2. I carried your ashes In the cheap plastic container, That looked like a thermos flask, Walked down to the sea Beneath where you’d lived all these years. Crossed under the railway Through a urine-smelling alley, Mother following, coughing, retching, Arrived there, Climbed down the rocks to the dimly lit water. Between night and day Somewhere you belonged, If ever there was such a thing. Within a half-world, On autopilot, Nature’s cruellest secret Infusing my bones. As mother watched me from above I poured the contents Into the sea. Then there was nothing, But the repeating cycle of crashing waves In the bleached light of a disinterested moon.