Thursday, October 8, 2015

October 8

Picasso's painting:


  1. The Old King, Pablo Picasso

    horror lives behind the young girls eyes,
    while disinterest sits on the destined
    King’s expression— so much has died
    at his feet already, what are one or two
    more nothing lives?
    just warm bodies
    that will eventually

    and the girls know— breath tentative,
    a stifled cough away from recourse.
    smiles begging
    this parody
    of love
    to be done with.

    1. i liked this one too. how it manages a kind of creepy solemnity.

    2. Thank you both. Really enjoying these prompts.

    3. Yes, I caught some of the same sentiment from the painting, but this poem adds layer of storytelling which is brilliant.

  2. Although I walk in jeans and a T
    I march as if covered in great finery
    For I am the Shah here in this land
    And I’ll pick one, or two, or three
    And when I’m done I’ll have some more
    Of these fine ladies not so demure
    ripe and nude under their dark chador.

    1. I love that. You've really captured the mode of the figure!

  3. Picasso’s Old King

    Sweetie — It’s not as bad as it looks:
    This nose — removable.
    I can get a new one easy anytime.
    Wait — my skin? Fixable totally
    resurfacable and just Look how
    Slopey my chest is how my neck swoops
    Into my body like a swan. OK —
    Well maybe not a swan, more like a
    Giraffe or a sick hyena. But Don’t
    Overlook my super drumstick sized
    Shoulders, they’re good aren’t they?
    And my outfit? And those ambiguous
    Squiggles that define the midpoint of
    My sleeve? No hands? It’s true, I don’t
    Have any at the moment, but I’m going
    To have them manufactured and delivered
    Special just so that they are virgin hands
    Pure as the flesh of children (yes I stole that
    Line from Rimbaud) when I touch you-
    It’ll be great, I promise, just get my smartphone
    Will you so I can dictate that order?

    1. I love this. It's such a creepy picture and I like how you've discussed it from today's perspective.

  4. I find Picasso kind of a horrible person. He reputedly stole ideas and techniques from his friends. Braques stopped letting him come to his (Braques') studio, because he would see what he was working on in Picasso's studio (or in the gallery) the next day. But he was certainly important and influential. I remember seeing Guernica as a little kid and how it really scared me. it was fun to write this piece.

    1. I love Hemingway's comment in "Midnight in Paris" where he tells Picasso that he'll never be as good as Braques.

  5. A Kingly Stench

    He's coming at me again
    with his horrible stench
    ragged face
    I smell him coming
    the vapors of age
    pure evil
    He's so full of himself
    trapped in a lost
    youthful age
    I tolerate his scabby touch
    his greasy fingers
    dry skin
    He's leering at me now
    with peeling lips
    gnarled beard
    I hold in my breath
    afraid I'll catch his disease
    his madness
    He's almost too much
    so physically foul
    a tyrant
    I may choose death
    it has blessed dignity
    my freedom

  6. oh yeah. great first line. bracing to hear her voice at last coming through that mess of masculinity. love it.

    1. Yeah, I do too. Beautiful because the king is so ugly.

    2. This is amazing in its wretched detail. Wow

  7. The Harem Speaks
    After Picasso's lithograph, Le Vieux Roi
    In this portrait we stand before him,
    the old king, garbed in his heavy
    robes, crown resting in his disorderly hair
    like an abandoned crow's nest.
    He imagines that his clothing,
    thick with embroidery, the work of a hundred
    needles, the effort of our invisible sisters,
    the royal seamstresses, invests him
    with power, but we know
    that underneath, he is scarcely
    more substantial than steam,
    his withered white thighs,
    limp herring resting between them.
    In contrast, we stand
    naked before him,
    one of us almost featureless.
    The other holding her face before her,
    a mask she cannot drop.
    We share a cloud of hair.
    But this is an illusion.
    Inside us swells the seed of power.
    We wax as he wanes,
    his gas-bag belly great only
    with foul air.
    Now it is only the artist's brush,
    his pencil, that rises.
    The king is done with such acts.
    Without hands, he can only gaze
    at our splendor, our firm flesh.
    We bide our time.

  8. Picasso

    The king and his
    scribbled beard
    Wired like a brillo pad
    And abrasive passion
    for young girls
    With his lust to
    subdue and conquer
    his sexual subjects
    A conquest marking
    his perversions
    the timid
    and the vulnerable
    Through power
    making them wives
    of the murder
    to their innocence
    Inconsiderate love
    making romance more
    a desire of the flesh
    than a growth of the Spirit
    in practicing compassion
    A will to

  9. "scribbled beard
    Wired like a brillo pad
    And abrasive passion" ... love this

  10. Old King
    Old Fart
    Old Hollow Man
    A mask
    Will keep you out.

    You take our body
    And Home.

    But our pain has taught us
    You can not take
    Our soul.

  11. power distorts
    turns beauty - satisfaction