Client: Kamilla Norway
He likes motorcycles, stiff drinks, and tools, he’s no fool, he’s smart, goes to the bar plays darts and wins. He swims the cold ocean in the dark with sharks, he’s all bite no bark. He’s bold, brave, nobodies slave, nobodies chump, he’ll chop a tree down to a stump.
He’s all man and all animal not half and half like cream or milk, he doesn’t wear silk, he wears leather and denim and wool. He pushes and pulls, he’s everything, all the time, beer and wine. He knows how to dine- fine. He can cook and clean but he’s mean. He’s lean, but when he fights its clean, wrestles bears to blow off steam. He’s cultured, he likes art, reads Hemingway, likes Dali, and Monet, when he takes girls out on dates he pays.
He’s a good man, he never betrays, when he comes over he stays. A manimal won’t lie, his words never die, he doesn’t make false claims, he’s loyal and true like a lion to the pride and just as deadly.
He’s wise like a watching eagle, soars on the wind like a sea gull, stunning, graceful, unbeatable. He runs on the hunt, like a wolf he’s hungry, searching it seems unreachable.
His appetites are unquenchable, longing to find the prey within his mind, his desires are divine but sensual. The soul of a man, still timelessly instinctual. Ferocious like a cannibal, barbaric, atrocious to the untrained eye but red meat barely cooked blue rare is considered civilized. He transcends the standards and guidelines; he’s radical, paradoxical but unmistakably manimal.
He’s a beast and a preist, west to east, they talk about him in the streets. He won’t fit in your box, no key, no lock. You can’t pin him down; he’s a king with no crown, a dog outside the pound. No cage, he has no age, he plays on no stage, is paid no wage to behave like this sage who could live in a glass tower or the cave. He ignores the rants and the raves and becomes one with the earth and sky and sun and waves.
He’s an everlasting one. He’s unreasonable, unappeasable, almost unbelievable, but he’s achievable. He’s for you and me like the land and the sea, a symbol and a plea to be wild and free. He puts down the mac book, doesn’t watch tv. The undomesticated intellectual you see.
Get out in the dirt, wear a ripped shirt, have a stiff drink with a girl in a skirt and you’ll start to think I’m not just another man or an animal but an untamable, unassailable, unequivocal manimal.
Explosion: Dark in the Day
Hey it’s that guy, who sat down the aisle, strange style, crooked smile. We didn’t care, we weren’t scared, all he had was bad hair and a menacing stare. Too small, too sad not strong not bad. Pretty normal, just a bit off, not sure what, not sure why but there was something different about that guy. Never understood, he was never known but we didn’t ask, we didn’t try. I heard he watched a lot of war movies, played a lot of war games, strangely he behaved, dark in the day. We wondered what he was hiding, what he was planning, we all wondered what was true, if he was lying. If you don’t lean in you won’t hear a whisper, what would he have said if he had a listener? I know he judged faces and races from far away, wrong he said for their sins they’d pay. He wasn’t heard, we hadn’t cared, loveless and lonely they were a pair. I think he started to change, he re arranged his pain into blame and anger turned quickly into rage. Maybe that’s when he started the next phase, to set his stage, dark in his mind, dark in the day. His choices became our shame now who do we blame? Him, his mom, his dad, the war games? Could have gone out to play but he stayed in the dark in the day. He looked so tame, he could have been one of us, me, you, just another guy on the bus. Then who can we trust, we must be just, we must make a fuss or do we simply leave it in the past, leave it in the dust? After that how do we do love, stay free, be us? Reckless hate, reckless abandon, all planned nothing at random. He became an explosion of emotion like a wave from the ocean, like a wizard he’d mixed a potion, fire and bullets, loveless and lonely, potent.