Monday, 25 April 2016

Ultimately Dodging the Spear



“Tête d une femme morte” (Head of a Dead Woman) by Pablo Picasso (1902)


Solace is the result of seeking the permission, more advice, of your siblings, to plead absence
On Wednesday modules
Hell was waiting a head
Of itself
The trauma of confined dismal space
Filled with profoundly judgmental peers
The pressures of whom brings fourth some doubt, among fragility
For the self
For sure
The nerves are slowly settling themselves
From inevitable breakdown

Anxiety consists of the paranoia
Of coming across as dumb
Questions that inflict embarrassment on the speaker themselves, and listeners alike
Oddly some learners prefer listening
But are mostly lazy
In their justification
Laziness has brought the circumstances thus far
Into a whirlwind it is
The temptation to withdraw form the world of the artificial appreciation of intelligence
When critical discussions
Make the anxious sick

On purpose
The latecomer to every meeting picks a vacant chair
With close examination
Brushed off as convenience
Or considerate a gesture of saving time
The irony in which goes unobserved
Settles down with a storm of confidence
The sense of mystery backfires for it serves even more troubling attention 
If camouflage was the intention
It has failed
On the premises of insecurity retire at the rear of the room