Thursday, 24 March 2016

Elegance is a Virtue of Deprivation

“Jeune fille inspirée par Cranach” by Pablo Picasso (1949)

Many dead and many injured 
For the unassuming 
Everyday is but a circus
An act balanced on frail shoulders, carries the weight of expectations 
Heed the faces of the pearls 
Chocking on wrinkled necks 
A petition to be freed 
Fall from the five feet of vanity 
An expedition of confinement in contrast 
Being carefree
Is flicking the pearls off the oyster’s face

Into the ocean 
Performance plays itself 
As a treasure chest, suffocates with urgency, contains unfathomable wit  
To confess 
On urgent matters
A will soaks up the scent of his mistress 
For another minute
In golden silk
Gender becomes a social construct 
To fuel
To fulfil

All the expectations of the expectant 
Warrant a sense of purpose
To mimic the nature of the exploitation 
You see
As opposed to the revolution that boils inside the chest of the pearl-wearing 
A one-woman war
Is a sight 
Says the colonel  
Inscribed on the other side of the vanity 
Is a surprise
The lamp stands on a dollar bill

Wednesday, 23 March 2016

Rhetorical Answers to Unasked Questions

 “Desemparats (Maternité, Mère et enfant au fichu)” (Motherhood) by Pablo Picasso (1903)

Redundancy is the tendency to speak when speech is 
All babies are born sad by default
The discussion bounces back and fourth, between the two grown adults
Apparently babies are born either sad or happy
All babies are born crying 
Contends one
Exactly, because they are breathing 
Asserts the other
Outside the womb
There’s no room for losing

But if some babies are born happy then surely laughing is also a means for breathing
The discussion falls flat
Regret is spelt in syllables of self-hatred 
In the other stall
Sported on rustic shoulders are heads 
Heaving in shame 
Entitled to rights 
Unheard of 
Give birth to atomic bombs, in the toilet 
People are a waste of flowers 

Outside a lad’s rolling a cigarette in front of the library, while a phone call interrupts 
A real life conversation
Terminates the laughter of the two companions 
Before inflicting their farewell 
Bet it wasn’t worth it
But who’s called is called 
A company orders their petition 
Forced autographs from victims 
Infamous for not being famous
In a state of confound expel thou chewing gum in the recycling bin 

Sunday, 20 March 2016

Jeer Society

“Two Nudes” by Pablo Picasso (1906)

Hello to the appetite
Jumbled on ends of the revolting spectrum, to each their own... Thirst and desire
Scoop gently the spoon of the blood gravy
A pinch of salt is a pinch too much... Laminate pain with glory
Fold the frown in half
None in particular
Overdo a tongue with tongue twisters
Twist on the tip of the tongue
A greeting reserved for the entitled
Must adhere 

No worshipper yet
The guest arrives before the bell 
The owner greets a grumpy face
Two halves meet in the hallway
A silence spirals
Out of hand
A firm handshake is a formal distinction between friends and family
Choose one only
A fraction to be split
In halves 

A hard bearing
Season the skin with artificial endorsement, of etcetera 
Contrast reality, with expectation
Smear insult evenly, over the soul
Soothe the rash
The oversensitive orders an olive branch off the menu
Only to be disappointed, again
The barking of slurs
In customer complaints
There is no mention of why 
Only who and whom

Friday, 18 March 2016

Void of Concern

Woman with a Flower” by Pablo Picasso (1932)

The greasing of eyes sore in envy
Are worn by caring too much
For little reason but curiosity is the self-destruction of self-esteem
Disbelief is peculiar
How it launches despair
Oh a despair
Torn to shreds
Soak in bed, a caricature of a man
In tears of jealousy
How bemusing to cry on pleasure
In pleasure there is no time

For care about crying
Somehow, the sinner sleeps better at night
Might you come, crawl into the sheets of the sinner
And sin with them
For yourself
Imagination is a form of freedom, from which there are boundless routes to riddle with
Drive slowly, around the outskirts of the curb  
A daisy dies on the fringe
A harmonica slaughters a nightmare
Nirvana speaks on behalf of the peace of the
Closed eyes

Overdue for a holiday
A farewell is incomplete unless enforced with an embrace
Not all goers are huggers
But the ones who need saving are still looking for theirs
Behind the garbage dump two felines are making love like a baby crying in its crib
Outrageous hormones
What animals
What hideous crime
The sky is on the verge of collapsing, in regards to the disgrace
It reeks

Quiet and Green

“La Rue-des-Bois” by Pablo Picasso (1908)

There’s a jungle of chili trees outside my window, and they’re all swaying with the wind
Rather than against
Compassion is given through choice
The air is reflective of that
A delicacy, which deceives the oblivious, rather
To the otherwise obvious aftermath of
A burning tongue
Leaves the hair blown against the current
The forecast says sunny
But the sun is being shy
Or attention seeking

Invisible hands
Pluck at the nerves of the tree
A spine plagued by the demands of gravity
If roots are feet the shoes are concrete for they are deprived of the rights
To be free
As a tree
To flee
Upset on earth
A leaf crumbles to the ground
A protest is a sacrifice
And not all require speech

But the wind is loud
Wishing demand and conflict
Stir up a storm with the guts of the tree
A tornado, is perhaps, a magnificent illustration, at the abuse of power
The tree is laughing
And the wind is corrupt
Incompetence is the forecast failing its people
Thus trust is something you teach yourself
In a jungle 
The jungle
What's in a jungle 

Thursday, 17 March 2016

Decadent Interactions of the Dire and Dying

“Maya with her Doll” by Pablo Picasso (1938)

A lecture served on a silver platter renders the hungry
Naturally full
A flair for avoiding the unavoidable
Trash on the sidewalks
Subtle enough to slip through the cracks of the people’s ego, and ignorance
Leaves the thief of prosperity with a full smile
In the irony
An eye is of equivalent value to another eye
Of another I
Another ego
In line for some seasoning at the grocery store

An old man gets high on the swings
As children slide down the slopes of their father’s disgrace
An oversized jacket is worn by an underage being
Is living in the state of complete awe
Oblivion is the key ingredient for a good childhood
Mastered by disguise
Deceit and dissatisfaction
Will render a fairy tail
Into a fable
The qualities of which will flip them the other way around
To bite the ego a decade or two later

Assign the definition where the undefined starks debate
Stare into the eyes of the now stranger
A friend a week ago
Not yet an enemy
Just another person who lingers around at the right time and the right location
Responsibility is not an option but a demand
One that binds together many things of which one happens to be
Artificial intelligence
The duty to sustain a lifeless conversation
Will die out eventually 
In states of exhaustion, the superficial is bound to quiver 

Wednesday, 16 March 2016

Applause the Eloquence of the Atrocious

“La Femme qui pleure” (The Weeping Woman) by Pablo Picasso (1937)

Roll in the drums on this beautiful night and bash the intestines out of the instruments
Of choice
The buskers of the night are the most desperate
Usually needy
But mostly reckless
A body falls out of a garbage can
Under the vast and cold veil 
The leaves of the century old skeleton 
Becomes a cloak 
An empty laneway is home to more than the silence and the absence of human presence  
A centipede crawls on its hind legs

A few hundred before the fore runners
Chaos as a curse
Born in shoes too large to fit, too many to accompany a leg 
With a shoe
A shoe for a what
As a man with too many opinions is bound to lose
How’s it like
To walk in the shoes of fifty odd pairs 
Or to crunch on the bones of the conquered
What is mercy for the powerful that leaves, the vulnerable seeking the validation 
Of whom

Who is born with the privilege to grant mercy
That when the centipede dies
The spokesman pronounces the old idiom, alive  
From the idiot brain, that seizes the stage
The sight of a catastrophe 
Burdens the public 
Inside the stocking of a generic disposition to display oneself
The old cliché is born
The audience weeps in dysfunctional fits of laughter, for the new-now-old 
Fracture a leg! 

Saturday, 12 March 2016

Waiters Undetectable to the Untrained Eye

“Femme assise” by Pablo Picasso (1946)

Realism suggests that the odds of losing are insurmountable re a deck of cards
Yet the real gambler sees only fifty-fifty of either or
Oblivious to their heart racing 
Keep the fight going 
Only to die on the green table
Where cards are flowers
Burry the spade on which a patch was dug from the velvet garden 
A tombstone that reads wealthy 
In bold, gold, and glitter 
Pleasure now pity; shake hands in shock
Deal a different fate

For those still daring to sit at the graveyard 
A ghost stands on site
Behind the player, dictates and advises, through enthusiastic contention 
With endorsement or hatred
Loathing through useless teeth
Dried lips as per the usual, and fronting the pale green complexion
From the voice box of the player
A microphone of the deceased
Falls from the tip of the tongue, slices the air
Denial is never gone 
Deal with death on a different day 

Flicker the lights for further drama
Now a ghost
An entertainer 
Assume responsibly the new agenda 
Offer generously a sense of humour for the ashamed and dying slowly 
In the conference of calculating the next move
Offer a cold hand 
Never a cold shoulder
A ghost is a guardian 
For the optimistic
Proximity is never the excuse for snobbery 

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

Backstabbing and Treachery

“Man and Woman” by Pablo Picasso (1969)

Once the king ordered his men to summon fourth the thief of the queen’s beloved crown
Before royalty, there was a man in rags
Who sneered like a snake inside its basket
A jewel ripe for a day’s confetti of juice
The wine to bathe the wealthiest of the country 
Pour with consideration 
A poison, so encased with impeccable beauty
Causes ears to flop forward 
In anticipation
A drop is a century’s worth of hardship                          
Manufacture fauna in its genuine form 

The king intoxicates 
The queen screams
The man pleasures himself
On the carpet of the coldest steel
The snake slithers onto the throne
Forge a fence out of the sacred thorn 
An obstacle, to affirm against the illusion of affluence, which will testy against the blood 
Of yesterday 
Riddled with incompetence
Brains are the instruments of control 
Tease the harp in tune with the majesty’s madness 

Utopia is where the suffering ceases to exist 
Sip cobra wine 
Skin snakes with bare hands
Study the menu of endless dining 
Blood on canvas
Order the measurements  
In the palace there are plenty of slaves with all sorts of skill, and sorrow 
But the queen is an animal trapped 
In a human 
Her ears are bleeding, so the king employs 
Harps that are playing to soothe her sore

Violence of a Gentle Nature

“Les Demoiselles d'Avignon” by Pablo Picasso (1907)

Toss a tantrum at dinner and render the diet indigestible 
Emotional vomit is the broth alluded to in the slogan of redundant chefs 
Flee the table 
Before the temper erupts 
And spills
Then spoil innocence with accusation 
Stomach depression with a clenched fist 
Let eyes water in rage and track the clock
Sport a frown 
There’s reservation on speech
No one evacuates the premises before the cloaked skeleton takes his seat 

A supersized rat
Finds his place on the floor
Next to the foot of the all bones and no guts
A coward chokes on maple syrup too sweet for his soul
Soothe the rash with birth control 
The rat squeaks as if laughing
How the rats are laughing inside the house’s skeleton
An empty frame groans during the long winter’s night
A sigh is a sigh regardless of the source
From which it sounds
The rat does not mind a little mould 

A donation is a donation regardless of the recipient 
Charity needn’t a receipt
Or the media’s coverage
The celebrities with courage 
Are the ones who contribute behind closed doors closed curtains and closed mouths
A sight of near extinction
Exposure has always been ecstasy 
In exploitation there’s ought to be a winner regardless of what may come
The rat arrives too late to the party
He throws the tantrum under the table
Thus the feet go juggling the weight of fear

Friday, 11 March 2016

Grieving for Grief

“Two figures” by Pablo Picasso (1904)

Give the patient a piece of the pie
And then inject into the veins of the damned doctor, a dose of their own sarcasm
If exterior is reliable 
Arrogance sits at the core of confidence
Existence is for the lower class
Expose in full-force
Money ticks on the wrist
Bulldoze a man’s suffering with some music
If compensation is in a compliment
It better be sincere   

A feminist sobs in the bathroom
Doubt is the weed that roots itself on the premises of belief
Play some music instead
And watch
As the man at the window, plucks at the nerves of Mother Nature
A force whose mercy is the difference
Between life and death
Choose one
And wisely
Death is an inconvenience if accidental
The flowers need time to grow 

For the leftovers
Carry the burden of choice before the shoulders are struck in between
The corners of the wooden box
Dark blue
A jack lies inside
Preserved but still playing
With the hearts of the now once companions
On the other side
Across an invisible border
Cross the bridge 
Reassurance is hearing the song sung

Unforeseen Consequences of Random Conflict

“Woman with Cigarette” by Pablo Picasso (1903)

An understatement is a form of hyperbole
And a hypocrite is a turd
Just so
A turd boiling down the pipes of the scavenger’s feast
Pull from the ceramic bowl a surprise concealed by layers of velvet fabric
Imagination is the means to exceed the ordinary
A flush is a form of relief
Red cheeks and blue eyes are characteristics of the perfect mug shot
If justice is just
Who’s to justify the justice of the judge’s justifications
What’s in a jury that a woman should lay her life inside the palms of such

A snake is a form of amusement 
Except for the vicious and venomous
In a case of being victim, tears are the torture of justice
Advise children against the usage of vulgar language
Only to be sworn at
With malicious contention
Pluck sanity from the adult brain
A seed of the conflict implemented well into the wards of the walnut premises
Water with pride
On a monthly basis
A shower of curse 

See the rage glow
Should steal from the victim the crumbs of sanity
What remains
Is a demonstration
Of the bliss of being pure
Picture perfect
For contrast
The painter abolishes her brush with untold ferocity
Pain is the projection of hyperbole
And peace is founded in the sounds of the waterfall being scrunched 

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

Thursday, 10 March 2016

Ignorance is a Trait of the too Chicken or Chicken too

“The Roaster” by Pablo Picasso (1938)

Obligation is the act of walking with one’s head on the ground
Shame is the thrust that orders one foot in front of the other
Patterns are part of the routine
Or supposed to be  
The pavement is still a host to the stains of the confrontation
In Carlton
Saliva from the demons within
Spill like waterfalls; a disgrace to the fallen
It is alleged
Charity, urgently needed

Hungry, homeless
And hopeful
A catchy slogan
Alliteration is emphasis on important means
Feed apathy with leaflets
Print a plea on paper, and please the regarded with formal titles, rather
Address the indoctrinated with exaggerated respect
There’s a brain whistling slogans of contempt
In these situations
There’s duty and guilt to stir the appetites of starving men
Affluence is offensive

Oneself is a disgusting word:
It is a pity to pity oneself
A pity more to deprive oneself of the joys of doing and sharing
Good is a flaw if to be flaunted
A disgrace
To the standing
The stood up
The stuck up
An invitation to flee and fuck oneself
In one’s own privacy 
One's body is a bag full of shit 

Imposters and the Consequences of Such

“Mother and Child (First Steps)” by Pablo Picasso (1943)

Squeeze through the glass-tiled ceiling
The pentagon slices
A charity of heaven’s delight
Lit at thirty-five degrees per ounce
And a corner
Blinking is a highlight of weakness and is the distinction between mortal and otherwise
An unclassified specifies roams free under the eyes of the scientist
A moving being without a name, is merely curiosity
A name is an establishment
Of identity
Of the feeling of fitting in

A name is a shoe to be slipped into
Thus the baby cries
Thus it roams the world, crawling in accordance with the reluctance to conform
Thus the baby
Is a coat hanger
For conservative justification
A lack of imagination
And a selfish desire
Inherited from generations of domino dealing
A name and a family comes as a package
In which that baby hasn’t a say

But a scream
Perhaps a yawn
And a revolution from which tears are sprung
To sweep the floors with rivers instead
To flee from the institutions of expectation, and duty
A free man is one who roams, on his on will on his own time and on his own terms
Is a fantasy
Wherein phonies are convicted of crime
Colour the scheme with ideals approved of
Those of which are inflicted upon the offspring of the oppressed 
Is depressing 

Shows for Shocking

“The Kiss” by Pablo Picasso (1969)

Impose on the loaded a set of chores, and a ribbon to be tied around the womb
Record the digit
Then measure expectation
Far-fetched from the ideas of the freer than free
A speech is a form of oppression
Remorse is heard through echo
And a call to arms
Untangle the knot around the myth
Those who aren’t born
Are truly free
If oblivion is a measure of wellbeing

Then bliss is a virtue of being informed
There is no place
For therefore
In an opinion
There’s territory only the truly brave will claim for themselves
An excuse to slip from the chains of the circus
The stage of humans
Watched by animals
Rolling in filth
But aren’t filthy
Imagination is for crossing barriers

A slice of heaven
Tied on rings of celebration
Pity is the foundation on which the party strives
The manifesto of a man’s right to forget, was written by a league of legends
Those of whom are dead, in eternity
A myth is a story
And at that it is held
In high accord
An excuse to contemplate the truth
Is a reward
A means of fuelling discussion

Saturday, 5 March 2016

Dumping Garbage on the Hostile Front

“Autoportrait” by Pablo Picasso (1901)

A shell bore of the burden found only in the bush
Gives off a fragrance so unfamiliar
Collapses on the fractured man a tonne of the disappointment
The stocking of corrupted men
Comes with a dietary caution
In case of a revolution
Leave the guts out of the confrontation
Season lightly over the bearded gentleman a pinch of the finest salt
Rub fresh, open wounds with tender words and pour over the poison, generously
A guise to escort the oblivion of virgins into submission
Is an opulent show

The opera weeps behind the curtain where it faces a lack of audience and a foul director
Who spits in their hands to remedy a dry scalp
A vision to behold with pleasure
In the disgrace an angel dies mid-air
As the comrades descend in the same frantic motion
Falls off the ceiling with a measure of romance
Cue the saxophone to amplify a mix of conflicted emotion
The violin screeches before its echo is born
The lights lost on an empty seat in the audience as a man hides behind a chair
Cursing on rhythm
Counting the hairs of strangers

On his shoulders behold an odd assignment
Grey hairs are the most delicate, and easy to die
There is a discussion surrounding the existence of a predator
The one who lurks between the legs of children
At the opera
Exploitation almost always makes for an interesting discussion
It’s better to argue from the safe side or encourage from a place of experience, or relief
Insincerity is a specialisation
Only few have really mastered the notion of not giving a fuck
But to give it for free 
Is an opulent demonstration of one's nobility