and the 91 Artists
City of Gold
Alba Hernández Abrego aka Venus Daughter (room 311)
The question lied in the very deep of my thought, and it had traveled more in dreams rather in reality, “would I ever make it alone?” The choice to allow my thoughts to grow, letting them nurtured by more people than myself was necessary, in order to find the answer. It seemed to be more rational at the time as I have seen everything in my story, as part of a higher function of determinism, call it fate; believing an Angel should have been the one to delve spiritually and only manifest through multiple bodies as a Man, I decided to choose 91 Artists, who would allow me an access each to their realms, using their passages; unconditionally. I gave my story a symbol,
4 elements seeking,
the lost and wandering ether..."
2007 04 13
a spiritless body in the search
of that almost forgotten..
...and I sought for collaboration among my new fellow artists friends. I wrote several poems, expressing the need of my hero to rise from the depth to the surface and addressed to my new friends. I started building my virtual walls with bricks made by images, poetry and sound, video poems which I named Halkoems. Later on these video peoms became the poetic bonds between me and them. These series of poems were the "bricks" that I was going to use to build the founding pillars of my imaginary city. I wrote a poem called The Brick and transformed it into a Halkoem. It was then, when my circle of internet friends began to expand and I met through their blogs five more poets like Mary Ska, Herald Dean, Wendy, Lana and Black Widow. I created a series of six Halkoems called the Walls of Creation, the walls the divide the City of Gold from the realm of the chosen ones. The serie was incorporating their quotes into an artistic slideshow bind with music. See: The Halkoems ©
The City of Gold
ft. Cheryl Darr, Fiona Joy Hawkins and Halkios
Music composed and performed by Fiona Joy Hawkins
Prose written by Cheryl Ann Darr aka Lady ~M ~, based on the Story of the City of Gold
Poetry written by Cheryl Darr, Halkios
Halkoem, Video Art, Wall Art by Halkios
Photography by Kurt Anderson, Kel's Photography, Kos the Astronomer, Colleen Keller Breuning aka Colleen
It is said that when the last flood ended, and Noah sent a bird in search to find land, the Raven did not return. So he sent out a second bird, the Dove, which returned with an olive tree branch. But where did the Raven go? In our story, after a journey of seven days, the Raven finds a City made of Gold, hidden behind the first rainbow. The city has a the structure of a conical pyramid and has seven planes bathed in the colors of the rainbow. It is where people, the fallen, who were not part of those chosen for the Ark, found shelter, chosing themselves the way to reach enlightenment. Life gave them a second chance and with their own free will; they decided to express themselves out of the lights of popularity… unconditionally, as one entity.
“And it came to pass at the end of forty days
that Noah opened the window of the ark which he had made ;
And he sent forth a raven, which went forth to and fro,
Until the waters were dried up from off the earth.
2008 02 15
I take Wing
(written for the Diary of an Angel)
I take wing,
above endless flood water,
Freedom is mine,
as I search the heavens for a sign
Ebon wing glints, in rays of golden sunlight
Flying ever forward, in search of the fabled golden city
I leave behind, the floating barge of piety, the stench of man;
Seeking the beauty, of the fallen ones, the watchers;
The forsaken children, of an angry father, my brethren
I rest upon the bloated, floating carcasses of the drowned
Days pass, I grow weary and lonely for the presence of kin
On the 7th day, I spy a mountainous peak in the heavens
Behold, there lies the gates of the Golden City
within a shining pyramid
Soon rest will come for me at long last..
in the Angel’s Nest…
Time passes, lifetimes fade into racial memory
Spirits are born, reborn, born again and again
Restless souls travel in search of that almost forgotten;
That which lives on the fringes of their conscious thought
Images glimpsed only in colorful and restless dreams…
glimpsing shades of copper everywhere I travel
searching, an endless journey of mystery,
of memories that tickle my consciousness
like the subtle stroke of feathered wing
upon my heart's fragile skin seeking angels in dreary allies,
and in empty cathedrals of forgotten gods
where is Love?
my soul searches through my ancient eyes..
tears of regret and longing leave me spent ..
and yet I journey on,
my sandaled feet aching for rest
in the angel's nest ...
by Lady ~M~
Once the Raven enters the City, from its top, it finds itself trapped and tries to escape. She will see that from the rooftop downwards a spiral path leads to a far deep dark hallowed path with doors on its walls; closed doors. She finds a red feather lying on the surface of the floor and seeks to find its owner. It confronts then the a silvery sphere that encloses something estrange. She tries to break through. Its delicate walls of what it seems to be made of think crystal burst into fragments. The shuttered crystals float around her, and she starts to transform; she becomes a black angel. There in that center lies a red feather. She swoops to pick it up and next to it she finds a piece of Copper. She touches it and the piece vibrates and takes shape, grows until it takes human form.*
Their meeting is an enlightment for both. The child of copper is deaf and blind; has no senses or emotions. She will hold it in her arms and give it tenderness and shelter. She will nurture it and it will be hers for a while...
...It is said, that she the Raven created the first passage, by opening the first of the gates of the seventh plane which gave the entity the initiative to follow her into her realm. This entity is called the Copper Child.
The Raven finds rest in the realm that lies beyond the first gate. Then the child realizes that on the way they are more gates to explore and it confronts more individuals that guard each one of those gates, passages that lead to the world of the Chosen. And every thirteen gates, the colors change. From Red, to Orange, from the deep yellow to green, late on deep blue and indigo with a darkened violet which fades into dakness; something down there is shining;
...it will find obstacles and face fears and it will have terrible thoughts and as a day precedes the other, the entity realizes that it has to give four days from its physical life in exchange for the knowledge, the emotion, that lies beyond each door, for every new dream, each pristine memory with all those individuals , messengers, angels of their own kind, that safeguard the City. Then the Memories and Dreams which it collects beyond each realm are projected to the City's inner walls, the Walls of Creation.
It builds a magical vehicle, The Thunderbuss to allow it to travel from door to door, that looks like a bus and draws power from the thunders and storms that fell on the Land of the Fallen, during that once, destructive cataclysm. The Thunderbuss leaves behind a trail. The Trail of Dawn.
The Trail of Dawn, is a spiral trail that surrounds the City and keeps the Walls of Creation from coming tumbling down. Is as if it knows that once all the doors are open they will fall, will reveal the secret that lies within and deeply carved on its cold copper heart.
I am a traveler, a seeker of life, and of true Love
From my Nest to the West,
and from West to the South,
From the East, to the North
and back again…
2008 07 31
Collecting Memories and Dreams,
from all those who believed,
in one man’s vision and 91 Artists’ dream,
They all agreed:
“The Angel is One”
It creates a book, where it records all of these memories and dreams on 364 pages, for every day is a page. As it grows spiritual, the creature knows, that inevitably its physical death will come, when the book completes with all these pages, days of a year of Art, making its existence, a living token as every ink and paint, every particle of light and matter, sound or wave are the coin of Art, which was given unconditionally.