CHU CUBE 2010

Square the circle by removing the corners,
object subject turning liquid like waters,
lines flowin' in all directions, the chu cube is like you tube,
call it CHU CUBE.

Twenty ten cubism inside and out,
floors walls and ceiling give that space-timeless feeling, to viewer,
step onto the stylus and track your beat, shuffle your feet and fly
through the art with a star fleet, greet the words and the wires that connect em',
catch the fifty-one bus from Walsall to Birmingham
to the beatbox in a box in a box.

Holosthesia spreads like 'Check-it' pox,
artists work hard day and night like Ox,
bringing the inner-word to the outer world,
to the writers Gild, to the sight-builders mill.
A cube to step inside, sweet like sugar,
CHU from all quarters. Step into thrillennium.

Chunese Cube year. Step into it. The future realized and shared.
Turn on the chube. Mind the gap between the light source
and your mind, smell the sauce, the wooden frame,
step to the game.

Re-orient.
All art is game play,
a welcome invite into the field.
Painting a shield to protect humans from total coercion,
what is it? If not on a canvas or a wall?
what is it, or what shall we call it? er...

Holosthesia and total immersion, talking about legal tripping
in a non-virtual 'virtual reality. Inside the cube the digital man
is reversed. Polarities shift and change, Oh man,
everything you say it is, it isn't.

Eight corners and curves to infinity,
am I a computer? am I the glasses now, or
are the glasses me, inside a total
immersive environment?

3D and 3D and 3D. Ambiguity in terms,
who makes them anyhow? Cyberspace?
The artist as steersman and seer, appy new year!
A temple of Graffiti perception and street level
communication.

Miles of wires with plugs to tempt thugs with drums,
as the city light hums, as the concrete slums rise into
the air, shattered bricks and mortar flying
backwards, in fact, reforming as offspring, springs
and sprockets, microphones and rockets,
garden features and human creatures, ash and cash
and flash photo paint drip.

Drop the Iron curtain onto a hot city and wash
the melted cheese scape across the steel canvas
to tongue-stun.

Soup and symmetry, bread and born and bred.
Tangled speaker cables plug into the sewer,
speakers blast' slang and shouts from the streets
mixed with beats, to find the perfect beat, look
and rewind the slidewalks tape-ways.

Step.

love, fly