NEW CHAPTER......... Let's delete these memories........ NEW CHAPTER

Art is our weapon of truth!
NEW CHAPTER......... Let's delete these memories........ NEW CHAPTER

Art is our weapon of truth!
3 hours ago

Let the river flow wash away the pain
Let the fire burn it all in ash
Let the torrents pass, let the river flow, let the river flow

I long to see you in the bloom of winter
where trees are withered and flowers float
in the noose of the nuke
inside the news of the hooks

I want to see you in the rays of the sun
where the leaves shine on a summer mood
in the music of the duke
within mews of the fountains

Let the river flow wash away the pain
Let the fire burn it all in ash
Let the torrents pass, let the river flow, let the river flow

I see the rain washing the excrements
where tar and wire were bouncing
in the moving fires
within the encircling tires

I touch the blood on the palm of your hand
engrossed with the pain of trials
in the unresolved pastures
within the chaotic azures

Let the river flow wash away the pain
Let the fire burn it all in ash
Let the torrents pass, let the river flow, let the river flow

For recorded audio follow:
1 day ago

You left me with the a bid
a bigger slice of my best
a wish me well that lingers
even longer without your love

Your unformed abrubt reasons
of tainted unsainted failed logic
a wish you well, no hesitations
on the table of untouched melodies

My walls are a brighter emerlard
with stripes of the unmissed kisses
matted with peace and liberation
of torn risks and control measures

My sad blues were washed by the rains
above the moon and over skies above
scouring, soaring, scrapping, summing
in another forever of amaizing lines

2 days ago

Too endorsed in a stance
of a heart and the flirts
an attraction of the mind
a hide covered by reality

Too entertained by an energy
a lighted and calming remedy
of esse universal openness
signed by smiles in a plait

Too searching within the sounds
the words of the in-between
whispering seduction from masts
away from the past pastes of gloom

Too fixated within his musing words
of humanly pockets and suffering
of injustice and pure manipulation
as I par to dreams of another ether

3 days ago

Arnold my dearest friend was 82
his soul has made a transition
through sands and vast oceans
to another dimensional paradise
he was chatty and I quiet
he was white and I black
he was old and I young
he was a man and I a woman
bonded with zest and humour

Arnold was strict and perfect
we met at local debating club
where we polished speeches
the little gems of impromptu
and the daunted evaluations
charming and complimentary
with an adventurous heart
and the pleasing easy spirit
of playfulness and success

Arnold and his plentiful gang
of competitive read speakers
always told me to slow down
I was a post-graduate trainee
wanting to brush my confidence
way back then when I stumbled
on that working men club
in the company of grey hairs
organised in eventful committees

Arnold saw roles changed
when after five long years
I was an elected president
the transformation of time
following radio interviews
back then when career drove
the foundations of many blocks
of habitual repetition and sweat
of sifting grime from the fire

Arnold always warmed up to me
kissed me on the  rosy cheek
he changed cars like clothes
and loved his dearly wife to bits
he has left a scent around my life
of a hope to love and build family
an ardent piano player and traveller
no wonder that church was so full
abundant with fond memories

Went to pay my respect to my friend Arnold. I learnt alot from him RIP. The church was so full I had to stand. I then realised that he was warm to everyone and has a loving family, one I aspire to have one day.
4 days ago

I look at your work and see
an array of strokes in-between
The smiles and tears that piles
Isolated brushes in small rooms

I peep on your life and portraits
On the aisles of temptation and love
The misery of the human formations
Inside a three dimensional canvas

I think of you from symbolism realism
On the island where nature was proud
Landscapes of greenish violet spoke
Soaked romantic tinges in spiky pokes

I see your blue lonely bubble episodes
On the earth's doleful daunted pasture
Culminates of gloom, isolation suicide
Dark and blue composite of blindness

I love the painted roses of orange tosses
On the eve where mistresses and lovers
Speak accents of lust with naked bodies
Paraded games of the heart captured on ice

I seek your open mind and astuteness
On the soil of Africa celebrating souls
Dancing at the rhythm of the drum beats
Shaping,hunting,pacing, tracing, painting

I like the way you wandered and hoped
On the excitement of something a new
When cubism of browny monochrome
Shaded neutrals in fragmented collages

I long to figure you out and your gems
On that dynamic cased experimentation
Crystal periods of pipes, guitars and glass
The passion that brought you riches and fame

I love to romantasise you Pablo Picasso
On my search you were a dreamer and a doer
Falled and failed, waited and won it all
From surrealism, abstraction to classical

A repost as promised. Written at Musee Picasso in France Sept 2016
4 days ago

I came to your hometown team
inserted in hallucinatory dreams  
inspired sweaty with fused realms
Is it real that you stole Mona Lisa?
At the heart of Louvre in 1911
Is it true that you sneaked her?
was it for a muse or a lover to use?

She would have viewed you sideways
then make love to you at the coffee table
Her beauty enthralled yours in entirely
blending on easel with pencil onto a canvas
Her palate would have swooned your palette  
Her very kiss would have paralyzed in ecstasy
abducting your perpendicular in angular zones

Then you framed it on Guillaume Appollinaire
The poet play wright whom face you just forgot
under the oath, in the sweet name of freeing art
from the prisons of extortionate museums fixtures  
the same exhibitions holding your name and fame
charging fees for a walk around the rhythm of art
a melody not each an every artist will be granted

You made the goddesses and then reduced them to dust
Fernanda soothed the childhood nightmares to lust
Olga the ballerina whom you couldn't share the assets
Marie-Therese the 17year old who hang herself to death
Dora Maar who fought so hard to get your affection
Francoise who left law school for your immortalisation
Jacqueline your passion who you wooed with a dove

Art is a lie that makes us realise the truth (Pablo Picasso)
Reflections after a visit to Pablo Picasso Museum Malaga (38 collections). I wrote a more positive one  on the visit to the Pablo Picasso Museum in France now deleted but will repost....
4 days ago

How can life begin when you fall on a cliff?
sat on a ledge for as long as the rain remains
waving for the meandering unforgivable miracles
of allowable hesitation and tensional destitution

When you look at a face do you see in the beyond?
areas and layers that regardless appease to angels
the marvels of the new coming unstormy parables
ushered at the lengthy table of debatable ideology

Whom do we pledge the crooked ways of the men?
aisles of mean and immeasurable consequential regrets
of when the summer unfolded and winter melted
beneath the flow of the lakes in the unseen caves

Where do we bow our untold perceived reconciliations?
kneel at the pebbled mast of an eventful aftermath
till the grounds little one, sift the fertile from gravel
start again, nurture the soils and bloom to fertility

It's never late to start again.
Armenian music: (Duduk): Lévon Minassian
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