Each month, write a new collection.
The Old King, Pablo Picasso horror lives behind the young girls eyes,while disinterest sits on the destinedKing’s expression— so much has diedat his feet already, what are one or twomore nothing lives? just warm bodies that will eventually cool—and the girls know— breath tentative,a stifled cough away from recourse. smiles begging this parody of love makingto be done with.
Nice man. Another killer poem!
i liked this one too. how it manages a kind of creepy solemnity.
Thank you both. Really enjoying these prompts.
Yes, I caught some of the same sentiment from the painting, but this poem adds layer of storytelling which is brilliant.
Although I walk in jeans and a TI march as if covered in great fineryFor I am the Shah here in this landAnd I’ll pick one, or two, or threeAnd when I’m done I’ll have some moreOf these fine ladies not so demureripe and nude under their dark chador.
I love that. You've really captured the mode of the figure!
totally the shah. totally.
Picasso’s Old KingSweetie — It’s not as bad as it looks:This nose — removable. I can get a new one easy anytime.Wait — my skin? Fixable totallyresurfacable and just Look howSlopey my chest is how my neck swoopsInto 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 sizedShoulders, they’re good aren’t they?And my outfit? And those ambiguousSquiggles that define the midpoint ofMy sleeve? No hands? It’s true, I don’tHave any at the moment, but I’m going To have them manufactured and deliveredSpecial just so that they are virgin handsPure as the flesh of children (yes I stole thatLine from Rimbaud) when I touch you-It’ll be great, I promise, just get my smartphoneWill you so I can dictate that order?
I love this. It's such a creepy picture and I like how you've discussed it from today's perspective.
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.
I love Hemingway's comment in "Midnight in Paris" where he tells Picasso that he'll never be as good as Braques.
A Kingly StenchHe's coming at me againwith his horrible stenchand ragged faceI smell him comingthe vapors of ageandpure evil He's so full of himselftrapped in a lost and youthful ageI tolerate his scabby touchhis greasy fingersand dry skinHe's leering at me nowwith peeling lipsandgnarled beardI hold in my breathafraid I'll catch his diseaseandhis madnessHe's almost too muchso physically foulanda tyrantI may choose deathit has blessed dignityandmy freedom
oh yeah. great first line. bracing to hear her voice at last coming through that mess of masculinity. love it.
Yeah, I do too. Beautiful because the king is so ugly.
This is amazing in its wretched detail. Wow
The Harem Speaks After Picasso's lithograph, Le Vieux RoiIn this portrait we stand before him,the old king, garbed in his heavyrobes, crown resting in his disorderly hairlike an abandoned crow's nest.He imagines that his clothing,thick with embroidery, the work of a hundredneedles, the effort of our invisible sisters,the royal seamstresses, invests himwith power, but we knowthat underneath, he is scarcelymore 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 onlywith 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 gazeat our splendor, our firm flesh.We bide our time.
Beautiful poem, Robbi!
PicassoThe king and his scribbled beardWired like a brillo padAnd abrasive passionfor young girlsWith his lust to subdue and conquerhis sexual subjectsA conquest marking his perversionsovertakingthe timidand the vulnerableThrough powermaking them wivesUnconscious of the murderto their innocenceInconsiderate lovemaking romance morea desire of the fleshthan a growth of the Spiritin practicing compassionInstead onlyA will tomadness
raw and vivid. thank you
Yeah, I agree with you Jeanne!
"scribbled beardWired like a brillo padAnd abrasive passion" ... love this
Old King Old FartOld Hollow ManA maskWill keep you out.You take our bodyClothingFoodAnd Home.But our pain has taught usYou can not takeOur soul.
Love the twist on this theme!
power distortsturns beauty - satisfactionunobtainable
A classic T2 poem! Love it man