Thursday, 3 December 2015

Frowning Starvation

“Femme assise” (Melancholy Woman) by Pablo Picasso (1902-03)

I can’t wait to prove to all those people who suppressed my expression
Who left me in the blues
The cowards who milk my brains and throw away the rest of me
Like I am no longer any good
I think I am starting to believe again in myself even if my frown says otherwise
I’ve notice from smart and successful people
Never reveal your real emotions
Cash is cold if that is any indication
Mystery is always more intriguing anyway
Isn’t that why we keep on reading even if the writing is lacking  
The end is the finish line we can’t wait to cross while they hurdle us with
Horrendous literature   
It’s good to test our patience every now and again

I wonder what they’re using my work for
That I volunteered to waste my time for so many hours, for nothing
They all fled the scene of my suffering
Because they were on holiday
To enjoy the contrast
When I needed them the most not even a ghost would appear
To serve
I am scared of people more than I am of the invisible species
Those who eavesdrop on our conversations
The ranting we vent
To ourselves and with others and judge us relentlessly
Because karma is not applicable for the non living
Who float in mansions as they please

It sounds terrific to be as free as they are
When they blow our souls in the gusts of winds
Blowing off steam
Even the weatherman needs a break, from the blues
Because it’s annoying to wait for the chef who likes to take their time
How many knives does it take to dissect an animal before they all go blunt
And therefore useless
The earth is predominantly squirted, in my favourite colour
I wonder why it’s been recurring
Everywhere I go
There’s always a reflection I’d rather not witness for the sake of my esteem
My forehead is folded so intricately when I’m not myself
I wonder what tomorrow will bring to the table, now that we are already 
So full today