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The Empire of the Primrose

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  The Empire of the Primrose - Station 1 Do you have recurring dreams? Travel Sketches by metamodernist artist JJFBbennett The cycle always resets at dusk, like waking inside the cold architecture of an unyielding, repetitive dream. I walk the wet, cobbled veins of an ancient European city, passing beneath stone arches hung with heavy, lifeless flags, heraldry drained of colour, damp cloth clinging to wooden poles like dead skin. There is no breath of wind, only the low, humming pressure of an era turning in its sleep. I reach into an iron sconce and tear loose a torch of roaring, ragged fire. The flame casts jittering amber shadows against the masonry as I plunge down the same discrepant corridor, a passage that bends against geometry, narrowing and widening like an inhaling throat. The Empire of the Primrose - Station 2 Past the broken gargoyles. Into the moss-eaten ruins of a seated angel whose stone wings have sheared away to jagged stubs. And onwards, deeper into the vaulted h...
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Head on

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Head on

Locked into a decollation of vision
Somewhere between dystopia and utopia
Of daunting scale and empowered ownership
For the futures of all inhabitants
Especially for those who are unable to prophetize

Through compassion and in hatred, paths are layed
Through rhetoric and within reality gaps, plans are devised
Crossroads are manufactured to include outputs of macabre scenarios
And these vivid horrors repetitively weave throughout our histories
Nothingness as sacred, nothingness as incidental

Our fabricated artilleries are lavished with discord
Of senseless killing and normalized clarification
These roadkills are cleansed though legitimate action
And our carnage is visualised through predictable datasets

Grieve is pushed aside
Knowing that the odds against are in favour
Contained within the numbers
That is digestible
To those in pain, those who ignore and those who can exploit





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