MadameBastet-firing-neurons

MadameBastet-firing-neurons
Like the proverbial Phoenix
Risen from the dead
Back amongst the germ-mongers I adore so much
CSET - the ugly beast - I beat it.
A miracle?
No.
Hard fucking work.
Beats miracles every time.

I am again in love with a ghost
a phantom
a vision of beauty so compelling
it would be obscene to try and descibe it
and yet here I am, master of words and all that is visual
and I cannot describe the soft, pale beauty
before me.
He was pretty once upon a time. Beautiful in fact. Oh
not in a conventional way - but he's never been conventional
in anything he does. Except in reality of course.
Convention is a cage for fear-filled lemmings.
His beauty was missed. How can that be? A thousand eyes
could not miss the subtle golden glow of a Rembrandt
the lush richness of a Watteau
and yet he was cast aside as strange looking.
Perhaps more Caravaggio that Caracci
It was in the eyes - look behind the darkness to see the smile winking
back at you.
He knows it's a game. He's played his hand extraordinarily well.
So his secret is mine.
The beauty is gone now. Time is a bastard thief. But the mischief remains.
I am breathless with awe
something I have for very, very few people.
I hope never to see him except perhaps
where he belongs
on a stage, as if in a gallery
the Baroque brilliance of his face
a joy all my own.