Friday, 4 December 2015

Stomachs Full of Fright

“Woman with a Helmet of Hair” by Pablo Picasso (1904)

They warn us about our aging too fast
They seem pleased that we are struggling to cope with our lives
We’re so anxious over the threats that will never outcome but we are so paranoid
All the time
Worry is the only friend we’ve had, for so long, the same fears
They don’t get sick of the visitor’s schedule
Nor will they abandon the attention inside the fragility
What’s gotten into the artist who will only sell his paintings
Art is the public display of affection and should only be free
When they hide art in their storage containers inside those museums
They might as well burn everything

As students too poor in emotional and financial departments
We will let them destroy us with their lawsuits
We’ll court the jury with innocence
Unheard of
Dead people should just let us live in peace if they want revenge for having
Lived bad lives themselves they are hypocrites
For ruining ours
We can’t even sleep without a light on
Why is haunting deemed a pleasure
Why do some people recruit victims for their entertainment
As if their lives were dependent on fear
A dictatorship is a dictatorship regardless of the number of victims they can claim
Hitler is still being punished in hell
Hitler is still influential, somehow
He cries everyday while we enjoy the silence of the night

An ill-fitting suit can still make the confident man feel stronger than his companions
For confidence is the key to successful manipulation
The outside matters the most
It takes time to lure the innocence into sleeping with the beast
A beast needn’t claws or fangs to send shivers down our spines
Sometimes, a creepy voice is enough to make us sweat, salt has always been
A sign of exhaustion  
When we glue our eyes to the clock we damage the present
Time is the projection of the ludicrous
So we laugh when we think of ourselves
Flung into the future 
There is comedy everywhere if we are keen enough