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Joe Jul 2014
Enid turned her wheels
A red flash through
Luscious green
Across the wall of corns

In what felt like
No time at all
The gabble reconvened
Inside the hessian on bread street

Taiyo and Darcy
Evoked the Spanish coast
Fresh faces following
More mature fingers

Frankie and Debs
Move us from Spanish shores
To Antarctica, with penguins
Brian and David

Then comes 'The Man'
Four men , four beautiful men
To play us out and
We don't stand a chance with them now
Joe Jul 2014
Pablo went to the circus
The lithographs give it away
Unless of course
He had the knack
Of producing a place from scratch
An imaginary circus

The positive and negative space
Silhouette circus
Of hoops and bears
Gymnasts on chairs
The blank faced audience


He also did ******* bullfights
In 1946
His blood splattered face leering
Over his lithography
Joe Jul 2014
Sat in a room with Henri Matisse
You must have many questions for me
I said
Henri smiled

At that very moment    snap      -Gyula Halasz-
His Hungarian walked in
I dropped my tea
She dropped her dress

Henri drew
I drew a blank
'All things considered there is only Matisse'

P.P
Joe Jul 2014
The Garish Marilyns
Do nothing for me
The pinks
The greens
Obscene sweet wrappers

A level art students pour in like
Fresh fish hauls
They stare reverentially at the
Garish Marilyns
They have seen a thousand times before
On poorly made t-shirts
They use words like iconic
I rustle my sweet papers they
Glance over but my plain face
Only distracts them momentarily
From the gaze of yet another
Garish Marilyn
Joe Jul 2014
I watched the part time poet
Warble

I watched the part time poet
Drone

I watched the part time poet
Get the **** off his chest

I watched the part time poet
Walk home

I watched the part time poet
Greet his wife

I watched the part time poet
Undress

I watched the part time poet
Pour a glass of wine

I watched the part time poet
De-stress

I watched the part time poet
Close the curtains

I hear the part time poet
Call the feds

The part time poet seems
Somewhat displeased

Officers, there's a part time poet
In my flowers beds

The uniformed man who handles me
Is a part time poet too

Now I can go full time
Got enough on my hands
At least two hundred yards
From you
Joe Jul 2014
The child in the the gallery cafe
Was underwhelmed by her
'Children's Lunchbox'

She sneered peeling wafer thin
Ham out from between bleach
White bread

Stares despairingly at the
Cardboard, itself adorned with
Animal iconography for her
Enjoyment

She feels patronised and no
Longer hungry
Pushing both the apple and juice
Box tumbling to the floor
She makes for the door
Her mother still unaware
I have a duty to alert her
But I just watch
She bursts out onto the
Street as I reach for her
Juicebox
Joe Jun 2013
The breakfast massacre of '95
I was young and naive
I was fresh-faced and alive

I cracked open my egg
Was about to let loose
When my soldiers arose
And marched past the juice

Down over the tablecloth
Straight on from hot tea
My buttery battalion were
Heading for me

The breakfast massacre  of '95
I was bruised and battered
I was barely alive
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