Rust portraits collection on Emergent Properties, Generative AI ~ 333 editions at 66xtz
The Game
Send 1 portrait from either "Sovereign Set" or “Rust” to manuscript.tez to acquire a cinematic edition of Rust II.
There are three more “Chariots" to be uncovered within Rust. Three collectors of this trait will be airdropped the cinematic edition to "Chariots Of Paradise".
There are 23 potential rare characters (multiples of each) ~ if collectors mint one of the rare characters listed below they will receive airdrops of cinematic Shakespeare adaptations over the next six months.
Macbeth
Richard III
Iago
Titus Andronicus
King Lear
Lady MacBeth
Hamlet
Caliban
King Claudius
Cymbeline
Duncan
Malcolm
King John
Henry VIII
Richard III
Polixenes
Caesar
Marcus Antonius
Othello
Caligula
Desdemona
Ophelia
Cleopatra
RUST
What I saw that day the world turned to rust,
Beneath a red dawn,
Which fell like blood from the sky,
The burning red in my eyes,
Consuming all the time,
Like a snakes scales that shine different at night.
From Rust we are born,
Rust which comes from dirt,
Rust which came from the sea,
On the ghost of a whaling ship,
And forms over everything,
From ground to ceiling,
Crawled and vantage found,
Of severing, sweet, crumbling luster,
The steeple’s gargoyle and dagger’s handle,
I keep it safe for the God’s banquet,
Slumber, slip and place on the mantle.
And to the sacred seat,
Through the armour,
Through their conceit,
Everything drops to the floor,
Squirms in the rust.
I sent her to you,
So her rust would seep into your heart,
To corrode the blades,
Into pile of rust behind a horse and cart.
Snake skin peeled back,
Shed and left to flake,
The taste of rust on the breathe of a snake,
A dagger and a skate.
King John pulled from the marshes,
Where he waits.
Taunts the ghost of Caligula,
Dressed in white,
It covered every grave and the ghosts Kings rose from where they lay.
The air turned to dust.
Rust in all the people’s eyes
They gathered round his cloaked stance,
As though he were a deity,
And there it slithered out the cup.
Fortune was not enough,
A golden weighted trough,
Gorge from its bluff,
We are the sediments of rust,
The serpent spoke my name,
She said we are the same,
Don’t believe these words,
Just like the red in the horses mane,
It’s just a game,
You see it as it passes,
But not when it’s gone.
If I am innocent they will not see,
The jagged edge of the dagger,
I see before me.
For what is power at the end of this corroding hour?
The moments drip onto metal spikes and sticks,
Swords clash and chink,
A mighty climb upon castles wet bricks,
Slip down the ladder for snakes to lick your heels.
The crown’s at the top, it can come close enough to steal,
What would you sacrifice to take it all?
Rest your faith upon the sword?
And rest your blade upon the board.
Drink wine with me brother,
Watch gold flow from your goblet and your mouth,
You are now one of ours.
by Laurence Fuller, 2023
@laurencefuller
www.laurencefuller.art