Erchiolano

Artist with interests in painting, sculpture, assemblage, writing, poetry, experimental music, soundscapes and performance art. Franco Melechi (Erchiolano).

Talent

Profession

Artist

Work experience

Artist

Work interest

Age

Gender

Male

Height

Hair color

Eye color

Language

Country

contact information
    • Franco Melechi

Posts

Erchiolano

Neo-Post-AD: I'd rather not
My rage is my mirror; my mirror is my mirage.
Age has nothing to do with the lack of youth. Ripe is not maturity. Green is everything. Blossom in the deepest valley. Buds on the misty mountain. Terror is our roar of peace keeping itself secure. Every step is a falsehood. Hold, hold on, to the raft you're cast upon. 

//So, now you're drifting. But truth is that it was always the case. It's a leap, the leap we always take or have already taken. My, oh my, slowly we only ever overtake ourselves...
Read more
  • 127
  • 0

Erchiolano

Neo-Post-AD: Sla, very, sh - ssshhh
Every word you choose to voice in sequence outwits your ability to truly enunciate; outwits the self and reverberates elsewhere; 
//and there's nothing worse than feeling cheated or outrun by the undercurrents and all those invisible fish; all those fish-mouthing silences plum-filled with someone else's utterances.
//You're always travelling someone else's route. You're always inadvertently talking the talk from someone else's reportoire.

//You're disorientated and deranged. You're always l...
Read more
  • 113
  • 0

Erchiolano

Neo-Post-AD: Wavering paths
These insects you collect and breed in your head; these insects that breed in your head and which you collect; this collection of insects; this collection of breeds; this head of collections, breeds and insects have led you to this moment, to reflect and dismiss everything you've ever gathered, and to which you have resorted; this new-found disillusion propels you into misery, anxiety and despair - towards the desolate chair at the bottom or midway or the top of the stairs; that leads you into t...
Read more
  • 109
  • 0

Erchiolano

Neo-Post-AD: Bliss
Everything longs to be at peace whilst staying awake in deepest sleep dreaming, dreaming of itself at peace asleep: so that no harm nor hurt nor hate commands. 

//Peace will be a cheerleader cartwheeling across the manicured lawn. 

//Sleep will be the emerald and viridian air. 

//Dreaming will be a feather of itself, floating above the leafy canopies dappled gold and blood-gold, beating its wings as gently as orgasmic breath.

//And you will be long gone: a globe of uncentered memory...
Read more
  • 101
  • 0

Erchiolano

Neo-Post-AD: News from the dudes on the demented front.
"May contain traces of nuts" expresses the world succinctly.

//October oscillates between our skin and soul: frosts and thoughts. And the 21st century fails us starkly. Hesitancy is the cruellest failure. Democracy is spooked by its own distorted reflections.  

//Plug your ears and keep your eyes on the horizon. Chestnut-scarlet leaves in sycamore-syndrome-and-asymmetry: crisp, underfoot, as vast as an ocean soft and calm; busy with shallow eddies and micro tornadoes.

//Eco-politics in...
Read more
  • 108
  • 0

Erchiolano

Neo-Post-AD: Bistro.
You got to taste the bitter and the sweet in one; made your way through your heart and eyes; and found doubt to be the immutable foundation.

//You got to waste time and hanker for more; waited for the door to open in the corridor; and sought to gain access to the sealed pockets of candour.

//You got to find nothing of relevance in the daylight, waiting patiently for nightfall.

//And between fluctuating shadows you caught a glimpse of certitude and inexactitude.

//You were short chang...
Read more
  • 146
  • 0

Erchiolano

Neo-Post-AD: Fleeting thoughts #3.
I'm writing on your behalf not the other; right beside you and truly for no other. I'll not spoil your memory nor intentions. I'll not neglect the pertinent details that corruscate and enliven your presence. I'll not omit a jot of pessimism nor optimism nor that grounded realism to which we all allude but misuse and mistreat in equal measure.

//I'm neither your mister,  mistress nor master (manipulator). I'm as concrete as the empires of antiquity. I'm as bold as the golden Eagle, Beaver and...
Read more
  • 129
  • 0

Erchiolano

Neo-Post-AD: New day.
What you find isn't what you need. It's that which eludes you that sustains and inspires you. 

//Keep it to yourself: close to your heart; out of mind's muddling reach. Just let it flow, and slowly soak in and through you; then on the other side (with you flavoring the incandescent mix) the solution will not only be self-evident but also incontrovertibly intoxicating. 

//So drink it down deeply. Yes, deeper than you think. Deeper than your safe-ground recommends. 

//And beyond the harbo...
Read more
  • 101
  • 0

Erchiolano

Neo-Post-AD: A rodeo like no other (or call pest control)?
Now that the gate post's mended will you enter via the gate? 

//Two steps forward, three steps round. You display your feelings like a hunger. You are under their control. 

//What if you reasoned your way out of your heart and skin? What if you can't escape? What if you've no appetite to change direction? What if the gate still sticks or the post can no longer support the weight? What if you were weightless and had no need to open, close or be directed: would your imagination be too late,...
Read more
  • 100
  • 0

Erchiolano

Neo-Post-AD: Cafe library, library cafe.
I'm not the writer: you are. I'm not the reader: you are. Or let me put it this way: I'm neither the writer nor reader you are; nor are we one or the other. 

//But are we not inextricably linked?

//No, we are simply passing through.

//But are we not ultimately strangers sharing the same drink? 

//No, we are simply thirsty and disheartened; and hunger is something else.
Read more
  • 121
  • 0

Erchiolano

Neo-Post-AD: Witness.
Stone cold vigilance: 

//heady as an applique of obliquely slinking sitar-sister stars; 

//pointing and singing:

//some slow kaleidoscopic candelabra of slowly forgotten news; fresh as the first day's dawning muse; steady as an assassin's gun. 

//Stay still in the quiet witless stream of sleepy snow showers;

//still as crystal meadows. 

//Here, on the otherside, we have everything and nothing to play for.
Read more
  • 130
  • 0

Erchiolano

Neo-Post-AD: Self/Condemn/Nation.
I'm not here to soil my fingers, soil my hands, spoil this earth, this land; nor adulterate the air, the water; nor blight our very skin, (thin-skinned as we are, hard-headed as we are);

//just here to raise a voice against the onslaught and the stampede; the fury and the negligence; the despotism and indifference; the cruelty, barbarism and  brutality; the stark weopen that is the stark mind of us all; 

//that disrespects the very self that it creates and violates: this despicable state,...
Read more
  • 125
  • 0

Erchiolano

Neo-Post-AD: One: Nothing is easy.
I thought I should be spinning hard on my head. You know the drill.

//I thought I should collect my thoughts and pull myself back together again. You know the thrill.

//I thought I ought to reflect on my poetry and all my inherent mistakes. You know the image.

//And I simply imagined myself; and that was my first mistake. 

//And you thought all this was absolute. But I knew we were wrong; that all these things belong to the collective. But this collective is far from strong. 

//So...
Read more
  • 119
  • 0

Erchiolano

Neo-Post-AD: Ephemera: 17:42.
One enters the room via an open door into a room floodlit with golden light: varnishing the floor to a full gloss; and the windows glare into a burn; but what you don't know isn't worth the worry, and all you know isn't worth a sou.

//Here is where the melody is damaged: off-key for an lingering moment: echo within echo, slow as the opening buds, yet as decisive as the moths in their heart-felt despondency. 

//Here is where you stand transfixed by the gentle pulse of pianofortes stretched...
Read more
  • 111
  • 0

Erchiolano

Neo-Post-AD: The cache is empty.
You create your own dilemmas: none from scratch, and all the others in the making leave you delirious. Witness this, witness the other: all the fuss and bother is a sideshow to the main event which you've yet to imagine.

//It gnaws a cavern in your universe - fed on flesh, and morose; fed on stillness and sway; fed on the monopoly of stars and all other disinterested bodies. Neutrality is king, queen and arbiter of nothing.

//You've been bled of conviction and insight. You've been duped by...
Read more
  • 92
  • 0

Erchiolano

Neo-Post-AD: The negativity of distraction #1.
It's been buried too long; it lies in the silent depths brooding; it's nagging in the crosswinds; it's itching under the skin; 

//the ground is being worn away and washed away; the sound is deafening but impotent; the air is suffocating; the threat is inescapable;

//it's in the hands of avarice; it's in the mouth of mendacity; it's torn and disabled; it's broken and abandoned; it's exhausted and screaming;

//it's the rodent in the trap; it's the trap; it's the rodent; it's the rod acros...
Read more
  • 112
  • 0

Erchiolano

Neo-Post-AD: The inefficacy of ideological cures #1.
collective catastrophe; last stroke in the run of many; masterpiece of no-peace; cast of misfortunates; grinning imbeciles;

//ropes are tightening; limbs are snapping; oil on the water; shit between teeth; no lips; no forests; prophecy in gangrene; portrait of futility in the face of ignorance and venom;

//malignancy close to the finishing line; fishing in a cesspit; Dr. Odious Heinous at your disservice;

//still life with pig's trotters and lice in gravy; Officer of the Dirty Orifice a...
Read more
  • 120
  • 0

Erchiolano

Neo-Post-AD: The long tale before and after.
The paths don't meet. The paths don't fork. The paths don't cross. The roses grow strong. The thorns grow sharper. The reds are scarlet. The tongues stay silent. The silence is slick. The ice is immaculate. The blood is clear. The clarity is compromised and the path remains elusive. 

//The garden will be a bed. The flesh will be a preamble to the thought. The stain will be uncovered. The words will be undone: Lucidity and Charm. The spellbound are reclusive. The lake is on fire. The trees wil...
Read more
  • 127
  • 1

Erchiolano

Neo-Post-AD: absurd twilight boulders #1.
washed-out military-pigeon-greys scumbled across pale concrete-basking-shark-grey;
greys baked in mud and aged dust; 

//grey sediment in charcoal flasks; alpaca-grey; alpine-charcoal smoke; London smog; Goyescas: El Fandago del Candil; The Harry Lime Theme; pieta; Satie: Gnossienne #6; smoked mackerels; burnt toast; Quejas O la Maja y El Ruisenor; and the long stare down the barrel of a gun;

//cement and divide; squid; life long-in-the-tooth; the breath of a hummingbird heard at nightfall...
Read more
  • 114
  • 1

Erchiolano

Irrelevance: (Stone Bell) Intonation.
Drunken moon debacle close to the river blessing with
blade over cloud. Perhaps I'll be knocking on your window one day? 

//The I and the universe without will and vengeance, leaves us throwing caution into the cartoon-cartwheel of turbulence. Perhaps I'll need to shelter with a hermit?

//Providence in the face of failure, whilst heckling for clemency and chartreuse. Perhaps we should meet in the cold air?

//We don't know the volume nor do we retire early. Shout out loud for forfeiture...
Read more
  • 109
  • 0