Friday, 4 March 2016

Exaggerated Celebrations Galore

“Three Dancers” by Pablo Picasso (1925)

Emerge from the bounded fears of the timid bloke a lad from the school of the elite 
Snobbery is a fashion worn well 
Only by those entitled 
Is a cloak is a clock in disguise 
Called fairly 
Until shaking hands collide
Grief is beautiful for but the victim 
Suffering is a lost game 
Pinch a patch of the virgin skin
Soak some of which in the comfort of praise 
Or further the pride into the palms of the party

Find within the folds of the extraordinary 
A sprinkle of lust 
To taste
When the tall man walks through the door the door crouches a sigh
As the short man walks through 
The narrator stares and then chuckles
Quite a sigh of relief escapes
Blows from inside 
For whatever reason
The door hasn’t a door

Juxtaposition is always a show 
In its own light 
Deprivation is a hefty sacrifice for sympathy 
Furthermore, judgmental onlookers are like stocking fillers
A chore
Dirty and disgraced 
Being deprived is a blessing in some cases 
It is offensive to allude to the least  
The end of an era comes twelve times a year
The moon is capable of moaning at the end of each month