Have any of you heard of the great Aboriginal artist
who dissolves like sands of the hour glass
into the retina of the mind's eye, and then
transfigures a miracle at the base of the mid spine
within a mere matter of mortal seconds?...
I first became aware of his most holy of presences
when I treked the rock shelters at Madjedbebe
My third eye opened as he winked into my conciousness,
and that was all I needed...
I instantly converted to his art cult that required constant awareness
and 24 hour attention to all of the pop art sensationalism that was he
which begs a person give up all earthly belongings and jump aboard the
Tjung-gra train for an 7 easy payments of 5,000 and 34 hundred dollars
every new moon...
His art is so impossibly huge is girth that Tjung-gra is dwarfed by the audaciously
moutainous size of it, and appears like a small infant child when standing astride it.
Why do you not know of Tjung-gra?
Why do you not breathe Tjung-gra?
Why do you not bleed Tjung-gra?
I have already paid in blood and removed my second testicle to satisfy his insatiable hunger for sacrifice.
Tjungra promised he'd mount me and then create a painting of the act for all to see at the next Australian council.
He is my life-blood and my internal unborn fetus. My creatitivity incarnate though I am sapped of all my juices when he demands them at constant intervals.
Tjungra satisfies. Tjungra never lies. Tjungra is my sun and moon...but who I pray tell is your sun and moon?...don't tell me you rely on yourself?...that is much too fickle!...
Tjungra should be your Daddy Momma and I swear that if you tickle
his belly button just that way
he'll cure you well into your dying day.
Slack i Salessie
Art by: George Tjungurrayi