Application

 

Seminar on Street Art 7: Application. Downtown in the city of downloads, fingertips walk stepping stone icons. Alone. Applications simulate control. Controlled, the digital beings connect to an artificial globe. The world. Passwords are passports, pins are wins. Interminable applications. Innumerable applications. The app for measuring light. The app for wrong from right. The app for updates on nostalgia. The app for computer neuralgia. The app for more money less time. App (pop-up: download now) where punishment fits the crime. The app for craziest quotes ever. Ever. The app that never says never.  Everywhere now, inexplicably new and now, pretending to know how applications happen. Snap them then tap them. All desires known. Sent to your iPhone. Private configurations, tonics and iconics. A service to keep an eye on. So many to choose from, which ones to try on? There is the app for A to speak with B. The app they said was free. The app for conveyor belts. The app for how things felt. The app for the way to dusty death. The app for taking your next breath. Uptown in the city of uploads, these handy daydreams of universal connect power out. They lose the feel of write. They fall through the stormwater grills, through the wise cracks. Forget about snacks. Upload overload, offload. Interminable until terminable. In their stead, instead, rise cartouches from the earth. The polychrome earth. Encapsulated in caps, applications in gloss paint proliferate. They instigate their maker’s unique claim. In touch with the grain and shape. Their name in rows with other names of the unnamed. Sign your name legibly. Make your application early. The graf of the tracks of their tears. The graf of the cracks in their fears. The graf of open secrets in code. The graf of calligraphy overload. The graf of internal fires. The graf of nighttime mires. The graf of the loneliest street. The graf where like-minds meet. Yes, secrets, coded but out in the open for all to share. The fair and aware, the scared and rare, bared in primary colours where inner city meets outer spaces. Garish and nightmarish, or cherished and first wish? Squarish and flairish, flourished, efflorescent. Dare this. Private configurations gone public in Dulux and Montana. British Paints, sure can. The graf of poetical overtures. The graf of seven-foot signatures. The graf with its back to the wall. The graf that is having a ball. The graf of not seen nothing yet. The graf of exploding alphabets.

 

Two Sonnets: 

‘The App’ 

The app for measuring light.

The app for wrong from right.

The app for updates on nostalgia.

The app for computer neuralgia.

The app for more money less time.

App: the punishment fits the crime.

The app for craziest quotes ever. Ever.

The app that never says never.

 

The app for A to speak with B.

The app they said was free.

The app for conveyor belts.

The app for how things felt.

The app for the way to dusty death.

The app for taking your next breath.

 

‘The Graf’ 

The graf of the tracks of their tears.

The graf of the cracks in their fears.

The graf of open secrets in code.

The graf of calligraphy overload.

The graf of internal fires.

The graf of nighttime mires.

The graf of the loneliest street.

The graf where like-minds meet.

 

The graf of poetical overtures.

The graf of seven-foot signatures.

The graf with its back to the wall.

The graf that is having a ball.

The graf of not seen nothing yet.

The graf of exploding alphabets.