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