Wednesday, 29 June 2016

Birthing Bad News At Wrong Times

“Tête de femme (Dora Maar)” (Head of a Woman (Dora Maar)) by Pablo Picasso (1937)

Fluctuations incoming the entrance of dealerships, constant on the conservation of false smile
Smeared on the white ground is a coffee stain
A projection of character forging a name for itself where shoes make deposits
Of animal compost, perhaps
A bird chirps a great offer
From the cafeteria in-built and beaming depression
But it is still fresh despite
The aroma of new cars pitting passengers against virgin leather
Lumped together
Like washing machines feeding off loose change where loose change have been exchanged

In the palms of who knows
For what cause
An orgy of enforced examination
Feeling for the frustration of impatience from the people paid to be patient, who peel inches
Off the armor of their fingers
Running along the leather are essentially skins, derived from flesh, and explosion
Boring a facial utterance of horror
Skipping one hundred kilometers per unit
Four passengers cruising along seamless pavement and tired granite
The contradiction of assimilation is a struggle
Of all sorts of friction

Shortcuts are the excuses of deprived finance, venturing new alternatives, for shorter cuts
Yet making attempt
The irritation of unhappiness that fouls the hip pocket, in need
Of the expression of the lazy witness
Turning blind on the dictation of surreal light bulb
Like an orange ripening
Inside the stitching of jean pockets, spilling air
Of innocence 
Determined via relief
Via pigmented chalk
Casting a gross driver on the track of facing discomfort and a right to sigh, on good premises

Monday, 27 June 2016

Paradise Exempt from Civilisation

“Les colombes” (The Doves) by Pablo Picasso (1957)

Cutting corners around palm trees of dystopian influence, those staggering against the brick
Suppressed by dimensional concrete
A pathway of doom
Laden with optimist
The realism of contrasting spoilers, awaiting 
Trapped for curious bystanders, who too cut corners
Over the mood of collectives, feeling mock sensation, rotten joy and delectation 
Summon input, per request
Qualify diameters, of the blown-out skull
The proportions of which too difficult to parade, on historic streets and the ledges of bridges
Blood and guts, ordained with gold

Visions of overthrowing
Dazed crowds, marching on tennis courts and politicians 
The breeze of a sour petition, slips through the crack of the double doors, like gapped teeth
Gritting on purpose
The oblivion of playing aggressor comes with hefty title and reputation
One life for a new chance of adoring defeat
No one shall on the bounds of a maintained garden, leak or lie
As pleaded with, go elsewhere and far
To fetch treasure
On demand 
Keep on giggling

On other premises icky ceremonies occupy lumberjacks, felling bones and bark for dead ones
Nature, for the natural death
Compose moulded songs
Under balding trees, delighted with new shadows
For thrusting shade
Upon the concrete
Immersed in the damp soil, and quickly absorbed by the seasoning of accepted discourse
Here reclines the frustration
Of being routined
By routines,

Oasis for Fouled Nutrition

“Femme assise dans un fauteuil” (Woman Sitting in an Armchair) by Pablo Picasso (1923)

Satisfaction as a wine in need of some thyme or salt or whatever it takes to tickle their tongue
So fancy
The composition of being stuck up, under the roof in location of forbidden cave
A slug will threaten regime
Timed on Bastille Day as a coincidence 
I think not! Trailing behind disturbing velvet of violence not physical
Never will be
The trend of patting snails on their home, flipping sideways 
The crispy shell
Of a lobster
Boiling with disappointment 

Costumes for all extroverted personalities, gifted explicit skeletons draped on raw insecurity
Not so fragile the inkling flesh
Worn inside
As undergarment pushing a question for conclusion, plumped by tissue paper
The already damned
On frizzed out hair
Scoop an affliction
On the clock of a drinker, of soft drinks, coke is the drink of choice
But vile
Extremely promised, the chaos of over consumption

Enough to fertilise eggs un-boiled, full of youth or deprived, those stored inside tricky sockets
Prone to orgasm
Apply a speech
Beginning with perhaps sought after apology
Where egos are sore
Treat with deliberation
A slingshot tied around the wrist of feet, unnecessarily ordered, by sluggish dictation  
Fraught by fatigue
A noose is the reincarnation
Of a tie
Renaissance is digested caviar

Saturday, 25 June 2016

Well Chosen the Suited for Circumstances of Defeat

“Tête de femme au nez vert sur fond bleu-nuit (Dora)” (Female head green nose on dark blue background (Dora)) by Pablo Picasso (1938)

Autocrat with ancient bruising, the embodiment of decaying health come to attract temptation
On the lower bunk of plastic chair
Bled of injustice
Foreigner sits crossed-legged
On anecdotes of backwash, a booby trap squeaks for someone caught lying
Under rot
Devoured by snitches
A man and his walking gizmo
Sat on a flower sofa
A fella hammering silver fodder into stalks of his mattress, oozing hardship
A season sprung too hard

Could not contain a sight of distraction
Pleaded for virginity as life conquered
A dead body
Founded on powdered limbs, a screech from a despicable rat plummets into the floor
Overlooking nowhere
The house that farts on the river
Swept into storm
The fascination of being outsider
Brewing confrontation on temples of human flesh
Equipped for appeal, running alone
Reservation sat on the lawn that fears entertainment, which leaks the residue of vulgar slang

Spoken so highly of
Collector of grudges
Grunting on yellow grass picking shovels that slaps on the face, of the wench
An excuse to inflict further violence
On every subject
Only natural to customize character
According to dignity, thus extraction of turd for face painting
Disguise the blotch
Of playing dumb
Of emptying food
For the sake of the cold freckle steaming and was steamed by boiling shower

Friday, 24 June 2016

Sloppy Headquarters Responsible For Ordinary Satire

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

Installed baggage on shoulders consumed by fatigue those pearls of dirty pigmentation
Rolling prejudice on the seesaw
Wandering inside sockets
Bending through rollercoaster dictation
Against prisoner’s will
Stitched landmarks of character on foreign exterior
Iron the thought of venom
Asserted stanza: insult intolerant
Smear Vaseline all over eyebrows
The two pillars of the face
Surfing through caterpillars of arrogant stance standing on whom’s legs they stand still

On the spine of a dead leaf a disease is bore of the pressure to assume identity
There is plenty of solution
For whom falling sharp of an empty cocoon on Saturday
Shells for occupation
Fragile but stern
The legless caterpillar born on Sunday
Crawls through a spine
An incest affair is a spelling error concerning insects with abdomens of horrific sight
Monitored by standards of predisposition
Swallow green guts produced by unpleasant curiosity- a byproduct of fingers
A dry discovery

Halving boundaries
On purple grass a butterfly breeds a batch of chaos, a good patch at that
Due under the sun
A severe sight of sleeping bags becoming neglected
On a fine galaxy
All rib-ticklers unite in the vicinity of a distressed flag, flown with no particular significance
Designed faultless by free mentality
The fabric of alliteration
Is crucial for anthems of indoctrination designated 
Nothing is supposed to be spoken of
The intention of playing over inside the heads of whom that had showed their face

Thursday, 23 June 2016

No Fools For A Thick Plot

“La Toilette” (The Toilet) by Pablo Picasso (1906)

Deception is the beautiful flesh of a dreadfully handsome creature known as the Rockling
The bastard that skimmers the seas
In the stomachs of greed and hunger disease trickles
In a rising motion finish the aftermath of over consumption flirting with tolerance
The consequences of pink flesh
Ridiculing chefs under hats too large to enforce delusions of bigger brains
Larger than life
On steaming plates and the sparkling fountains
Contained in jugs
Spilling onto the cloth of modesty
Bon Appétit: abuse the appetite

On the occasion of opposing authority, let the left eye eat first
On alliteration
Sneered at in work shops
By peers too precious and the pressure of assimilation boring the mouth of only the speaker
Depriving the mouth
Of colour and flesh
Corruption on thin horizons and potential suppressed by norms worthy of quotation marks
But isn’t a question
Occupy authority with laughter
To ease tension
From misunderstanding 

Curse on the inside where cursing is free to curse as it will, it is but cruise control
In situations of slipping tongue
Recover with a red face
For empathy
Humiliation is always worth pity
The people
Who come in late
Who stroll on and about the grounds of judgement with ill expressions, craving poker
Gambling with fate
The melodramatic soliloquy of a five-minute introduction, hardly called for
A yawn is an indication of too many sorts

Ludicrous Prospects of Mock-Up Superiors

“Bust of Young Man” by Pablo Picasso (1895)

Crammed are participants like sardines in their tin cans, only rusting internal for impressions
Including their sake
Dress over the expectations of the underwhelmed regardless
There’s a stack of tables and chairs at the back of the premises
Disease free
Where ugly surfaces await baggage
Instructions barking unpack the red baskets of junk
In groups of four fetch  
Or forge
Your reputation

Filled to the brim with desirable bullshit 
Busted by plastic handles too foul and unfair the task of shitting via the bull’s tail
And the residue of fur of course
How fucking foal
Laminate laughter with refrigerator standard
Stranded on attention seeking island, the lonesome man with his jacket too hot for a hot room
Too casual the clothes underneath to strip
So bear the heat
You must
Preserve your reputation with the starvation of freedom skin
Pitched with the tents from sticks of chicken hairs

Summon the release only defeat will grant
A dictatorship scrolled on bark
The prudent conditions of becoming victim produced by those long hours of transportation
Subjects of lousy posture
Skimming through narrow laneways and reeking streets
Reeking of waste
Natural and otherwise
The weeds that sprout from fluid waste are proud
Their grip on the group
Pondering luck and fate the forces of which to trigger a fluff

Wednesday, 22 June 2016

Jail and Gaol or Jail or Gaol

“La femme qui pleure avec mouchoir” (Weeping Woman with Handkerchief) by Pablo Picasso (1937)

Clumsy hands carry labour of distribution, the verbal invitation of an unsuspecting party
Framed by quotation marks
The relevant connotations of fun
Met at the car park of a four and a half stars hotel, half short
One spoils the broth
With suggestions of alternative
The need of which is scorned
By wild dogs
Reinforced with a dirty warm light, built enough corners for one per party guest
Trapping mood swings for conversation foliage
A fern spills over the balcony

Implicit tension making itself explicit through silence
Music upstairs
As you’re sitting on someone on the striped sofa, a stain provokes disgust as a stain should
Marinate in history
An odour creeps in from under the glass door
Revealing itself an incompetent barrier
Dumb door
Dumb people
Dumb party
The qualifiers of any deal, quoted by asterisks
As they do as you did when you verbally summoned your guests

Recall yourself opening doors for strangers and pouring enthusiastically, unclassified wine
For an atmosphere’s sake
Some parties are disastrous
By default
Conjure the flashbacks of ordering fast food
The infliction of decoration on walls, cellophane paper disposed to enforce an illusion
Of celebration
Baking cakes with overdue batter
Testing tongues
Rendering victims with false hope
How you fed them the tattered portions of popcorn chicken

Tuesday, 21 June 2016

Zones of Mercy Rendering Doubt

“Portrait d`Allan Stein” (Portrait of Allan Stein) by Pablo Picasso (1906)

Abundant spreading of vomit obscured by the silk of three thousand yarns, plush with craving
Gold for a hearty feast
Layering complexion on the victim of their desperate times, a generous punch to the guts
In order to undermine stress
Boil the silver strands of awkward history
A violation of youth for your liking, tailored to ooze distinction
A spoiler
Dragging feet through velvet
The feeling of impossible ostentation
Occupation please spare us some mercy

Grant some sleep for the reputation of trust
Is a grand request from a small person swallowed by the office chair, swirled around the clock
On the nervous system of the waiter
A bird looks for a bank
And an abused glass
Stained blue
Threatens to act out
Their deposit of anxiety
Theatricals for the unassuming, a complementary on the house again
There isn’t need for thanks
But slip my resume through

Before the troops coming haunting
On a yard where a statue will continue to embrace the audacity of a wicked-winged creature
Faking innocence for bronze endorsement
Engrossed in the activity of nature
The dictation of cruelty
As the rain comes too late
Soaking grass to demonstrate competence, the expertise of fucking things up
On a perfectly good day
A good man celebrates his birth
Under heaven’s piss
A candle soaks itself in self-pity

Sunday, 5 June 2016

Killer Offsprings of Iconic Grief

“Paloma” by Pablo Picasso (1951)

Consumers of venom through and out of houses please as necessary smudge your enthusiasm
Off the walls
Of a joke
A fly falls off the ceiling
And ricochets from the strings of the guitar
Bounce off the host of the healer
Onto the steak left for too long in the sun the poison evaporates onto the quilting of the liver
Inside the destruction
Of which some gallbladder polyps are sprung
Onto provocative vocal cords
The streaming of which provokes a flood to fall of and from

To and fro the lungs
A stream of venom spills
Onto the counting of intervals, doubling over, digest the meat, bloody red and sturdy pink
Hues of a nightmare
Into the bowl of relief
Watch the suffering foam
Call on the strength of expired limbs to endure a little longer the manifestation of greed
And boring
A chair is hardly even support 

The choir will storm
As an eyeball threatens to fall, from the throne of sanity  
Pillow the surface, for the performance need safely serve the transportation
Of some suffering
Evoke a splash
From the unpleasant boundary
Dispel an organ for the appetite due in the morning
The chef with the good life, because of wrong affirmation
It is good luck to be spared of aftermath, especially of the ostentatious pink consequence  
Swallow confetti
For aftertaste