The Dark Angels are a come and go crew. They create then disappear like street art. Their works exist in fragments, particles that float, dust motes that spin before the wind that blows them to faraway places. They are individuals that work as one. Deep as oceans, as impenetrable as the night. Art urchins and poets, they dissolve before they form. They are the Dark Angels, they are discharge.They are a bloody mouthful.
Saturday, 2 July 2011
Her heart screams for the cradle of love’s embrace
Yet she gets left behind in the bitterness of the cold
The pain that leaks from her tears speak of injustice
As they so softly fall to the ground in utter silence