Monday, 25 January 2016

Banish these Bastards

“L'enfant au pigeon” (Child with a Dove) by Pablo Picasso (1901)

Open the fucking door! Grandma yearns against her lungs and all odds to see granddaughters 
And a grandson
Instead a flock of birds fly in
With tattered feathers
A beak to chirp slogans for barfing 
Say we love you so
Much so, there’s some take away in the bag, love is a euphemism, for leftovers and shit
Shut your brag holes
Grandma’s too tired to testify
You, the material for scorn
Will show you the door

I’m high on cholesterol
But I could make a fake Rolex look real
On my wrist is, in fact, the Rolex Grandma, also known as Mrs. G,
Otherwise G Mrs.
Gave me
Cousin’s trying to make G-Ma stick
No one’s going to triumph the reference, in honour of her wisdom
When grandma was the only word she registered in regards to her  
We sneak behind a bending back 
And say slide slide, crane crane, cough!
Mrs. G is here

So here she’s coming
The shitheads fly every now and then
It’s too late to turn our backs on the shark in the ticket booth
With tattered fins
The expired grin
Beams of pride and illegitimate cause for communication  
How the moods change faster than the seasons
There’s an ant clinging onto my arms and it suggests, humour is the solution to hatred
It says, who cares man, just smile 
But hatred, a friend, is the hungry man's solution