Most recent post

Australian Horror One

-
Image
Australian Horror One The Lost Soldier to an Empire of Bone and Ash Under the unsparing glare of a white-hot sky, the horror does not lurk in the shadows—it bakes into the earth's surface itself. This work reimagines Australian Gothic through a visceral, speculative dread, where the landscape is not merely hostile, but an active, devouring force that refuses to let the past rot in peace. The horror is elemental and corporeal: human history grafted directly into ancient geology. Flesh has not decayed; it has calcified into red Tanami clay, oxidized stone, and petrified khaki cotton. The intrusion of human technology—the corroded copper telegraph wire coiled into sinew, the thick glass insulators staring blindly as unblinking eyes—suggests a brutal, botched metamorphosis. It is the physical manifestation of an unspoken colonial and wartime trauma, where the forgotten dead are subsumed, weaponized, and regurgitated by the country they sought to cross. Standing stranded on a melting hi...
Post a Comment

Converging Traffic Manila

-

 


Converging Traffic in Manila poem

I am a passenger entering Manila. 

The complexity of the city's carriageways and lanes is both bewildering and fascinating. 

I gaze out, trying to make sense.

Through the web of intricate pathways. 

The traffic is fluid; however, I experience it as chaotic.

My driver remains steadfast as vehicles converge and exit. 

Intuitively understanding this dynamic system. 

Balancing the collective's expectations with our personal needs.

I trust him as he orchestrates our safe path through.


Converging Traffic and Apparition in Manila


I err on the side of detecting threats in ambiguous situations.

Crossroads of the past, present and future


Convergence of Traffic and Apparition
As I sit in traffic, the air in Manila feels thick, with countless engines and people going about their day. I find myself staring out of the windshield, taking in the vibrant scene of city life. Within the chaos, I sought refuge from the uncertain situation. 

Suddenly, amidst the honking and the hustle, I notice a figure. It seems almost ghostly, gliding effortlessly above the cars and people. This apparition feels like a manifestation of my anxiety and the rich history of Manila. It's as if the city's past has been woven into my present reality. 

The figure appears to float gracefully, transcending into a bright future. It's as if this apparition bridges what was, what is, and what is yet to come. For a fleeting moment, I feel a deep connection to the essence of Manila, as seen through this apparition amidst the city's ever-moving pace.





JJFBbennett



John Bennett - AKA JJFBbennett, is an independent artist. You can subscribe to JJFB's work via Blogger, YouTube, Flicker, Facebook, Instagram and Deviant Art. 

To support his art creation, you can sponsor JJFBbennett through PayPal or a subscription via Patreon here.

If you want to acquire JJFB's art creations as an NFT - John's Opensea NFT profile is https://opensea.io/JJFBbennett  

Copyright

This artwork is protected by U.S. and International copyright laws. Distribution and/or modification of the artwork without written permission of the sponsor is prohibited.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Highway and the Lost Soldier

-
Image
The Highway and the Lost Soldier The midday sun around Adelaide River does something violent to the bitumen. At forty-five degrees, the Stuart Highway softens like melting fat; it turns into a black mirror, rippling with an unnatural, liquid glare that pools over every low rise. That is where it waits. He is always trudging south, away from life and deeper into the blistering furnace, his boots making no sound against the tar. The Highway and Lost Soldier Standing From two hundred yards out, he resembles a stranded traveler you’d pull over to save. He wears sun-bleached, disintegrating drill cotton that matches the bone-white dust of the termite country, his head angled down at an impossible, broken angle against the glare. No broad-brim hat. No swag. No water bottle. Just stiff, unnatural limbs jerking with every stride. “Driver... look at his face. We need to stop—why won't he turn around?” He is no lost tourist. Could he be the linesman from the Overland Telegraph days who tore ...
Read more

Discovering the terminal horizon

-
Image
  The Terminal Horizon Tourist Bus Discovering the Terminal Horizon The Long Highway Out here, the world ends not in silence, but in fire. The asphalt bleeds into cracked red earth, stretching toward a bruised horizon where the sky refuses to cool. Behind the glass, you drive chasing ghosts through a desert that forgot rain a lifetime ago. Beneath the Scorch Every road leads deeper into the furnace. Even below the surface, the rock fissures and weeps, hot steam rising through subterranean fractures where molten veins pulse in the dark, feeding an ancient, unforgiving heat. Broken Arteries What we built couldn’t hold. Rails twist into the dunes, swallowed by iron sand and wind. Bridges split down the seam, concrete splintered into raw bone, tangled rebar, and dying wires crackling into the smoke. The machines stopped; the wasteland stayed. The Last Horizon And when the road finally runs out, there is only the ash, the petrified stumps, and the quiet. You are a lone figure sitting in...
Read more

Incandescent - Ode to the Endless Scrub

-
Image
  Incandescent - Ode to the Endless Scrub Beneath the vault of fallen light Where red dirt cools to iron stone The ancient country meets the night Unyielding, patient, and alone Cracked earth yields to twisted root To hardy bark and spinifex Where time leaves neither mark nor foot Nor petty boundaries to perplex Rank upon rank the pale trunks rise A silent host that drinks the dry Repetition stretching past the eyes To where the flat horizon lies Trees behind trees in quiet grace A labyrinth of slender wood Carving the stillness out of space Where centuries have stood Above, the sky ignites its coal A canopy of smoke and ember Holding the continent’s deep soul In dark and fiery surrender No hurried end, no measured shore Just red loam, shadow, branch, and tree The scrub that breathes forevermore Into the quiet of infinity. Be Creative and Innovative with Knowledge John Bennett - AKA JJFBbennett , is an independent artist. You can view and subscribe to my work via  Blogge...
Read more