Tuesday, 2 February 2016

'The Blind Man's Meal' by Pablo Picasso (1903)

Never Enforce The Reluctant Smile

“Jacqueline with Flowers” by Pablo Picasso (1954)

Apply hand sanitizer to the grime on the desk where a slice of mango slipped from the fork
A tissue, a tissue
There’s more to the crunched up ball than what's inside 
Not always fluid
Or flexible solid
Do the job with pride 
Brave men are those who applaud for themselves  
Or one who thinks aloud in front of other people
In front of other people, is a notion that turns even the most ordinary acts into a performance
How many hands does it take to clap for support  
How many fingers do pretentious people clap with

There's a headline in the newspaper, appeals for sympathy in regards to the defeat 
Of one of the greats of tennis
They say, poor him
For his loss
A loser never seems to deserve his fate
But the winner’s worth to winning is always up for a manslaughter of opinions
In a good debate
There’s plenty of room for the defensive
Cause-to-cause offence
Of course it’s off course to ramble 
Neither make sense

Headlines are pardoned on all occasions
There is nothing poor about a millionaire
Not even the slightest
Nor the wife who sits straight in the velvet chair, on the other side of the country
A world absent, still royalty
Wealth is a signal of all sorts through good posture, and all the muscles it takes
To force appreciation on otherwise brutal 
Stern lips
There’s a story behind a closed mouth
And it takes an army to pull the plug on silence
The media forces its slaves to pity the wrong people   

Monday, 1 February 2016

Stools for Bystanders

“Sylvette” by Pablo Picasso (1954)

On a silent Saturday morning a flood devours a river
Like cobras devour their prey some leaves dishevel inside the appetites of
The unpredictable diner
Mother Nature is seen, with a smile, behind a tree
Where hollow and vast 
The scope of nepotism foresees some species of wildlife preserved 
On her watch there is no time for wasting
One tragedy is to safeguard nature as no more or less the conductor of cruelty it’s always been
Social experiments to sweep through
The river that weeps
Now merely the oil of dirt and dead leaves to stir the consequences of corruption

A weather warning is insufficient to foresee the colloquial mess
Of a full-blown tragedy
Shakespeare smirks on the lap of his woman
From coarse hair 
A snake crawls down from the tree to fetch from the flood, a fruit
Ripe to its core
The flood keeps on giving on Nature’s watch
There are plenty of hands to feed the poor
The treacherous
Needy or greedy
All gather around the tree and worship the dark opening of a dictatorship unquestionable

The flood catches a leaf and devours it
Stem and all, there is glory for the victims of Nature
Nature is its own predator, its own prey
So when the humans pray, they do at the mercy of this Nature
That devours and weeps
Underneath the surface of a flood as such
There is a conflict 
Caught between the sorrow of man and a Woman, there are no sides to take, nor seize 
But this day 
On a Saturday morning
No one is prepared for a tragedy