Sunday, 6 December 2015

Nostalgic Victorians in Crime







































“Bather with Beach Ball” by Pablo Picasso (1932)


Only the fool stomachs a dispute
Houses built beside the forces of nature for a sight extracted, from the movies  
Only the fool’s mind is rested with assurance on false belief
Adaptation is not achievable
The threat of dying is real and never, not within reach
Welcome to Victoria
They dissect their stomachs in front of strangers, to bare naked, their souls
They weep internally
They weep, until they can clench their feelings no more, and no longer, no one
Will burst into the river that lies on the doorstep

Little children row their rafts on the river
The river is too peaceful for a face being tortured and disturbed
Kindness lurks on the surface where death waits patiently below
The kids want to roll on the grass again and watch the clouds, in their change of heart
Cheer is an illusion
All things have their own cost and the river is no exception
Who are the people before, who come and scatter their empty beer cans on the seat
So many times they’ve come to the river motivated to watch their sorrows drown
Satisfaction is the discharge of unpleasant theories
The term what if is the hardest sentence to start the quest for an answer with

The river is there and moving even in the absence of people
Birds of paradise soak their feathers
In the holy bath
A bird lands on a tree to hawk its prey, like humans prey on those weaker than them
Capacity is undersized
Under the flags of France, they declare, France for only the French
The birds are too reserved to fly any further
What do them birds sing about when they wake us in the morning; a song is a curse
For those sleep deprived, their beds are ready, whereas the birds begin to flee their nests
After the hunt of a new day 
The night is much more exciting