Tjung-gra

Have any of you heard of the great Aboriginal artist

George Tjung-gra

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

of Nauwalabila.

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.

03-06-20

Slack i Salessie

Art by: George Tjungurrayi