1
Grisham John
my artist friend
is a sensitive chap
so a year after my wife dies
he gets me a date

2
Turns out at the restaurant
the woman walks up to me
like she were a floating jelly -
her left eye flying, her right eye sinking
her arms wild like horses
and her nose tripled;
each finger like a bullet
and she looks in all directions all at once

3
I call Grisham John on his cellphone
and I roar:
You paired me up with a hideous woman!

Relax! he intones
*You either hate 'em or love 'em -
that's how it is with a Picasso

Back in the days when
my friend Grisham John
started as a teenage artist,  he was poor
and had but onions and yogurt for meals;
and once he stole some paint
from the local corner shop

"Aha, caught you red-handed,"
said the cliche-infested store-owner
"Give me a reason
why I should not call the police"

"Well," said John Grisham
****-sure of his talent
"I can immortalize you as 'Scrooge in Red'
or 'Generosity in Psychedelic'
You choose..."

----------------------------------------------------­-----
so when Grisham John comes to
your town,  look out for,
amongst his exhibits:
*"Generosity in Psychedelic
with inset of Scrooge in Red"

My artist friend
Grisham John
(you'll hear more of him
and see his works soon enough)
has been working on nudes
(I mean artistically,  of course);
and with his co-operative models
he's produced a series of fine nudes
(please, keep a literal mind as you read me)

just the other day
Grisham John decided to have a break
so he told the day's model to dress
and would she make some tea and just talk
he needed to just relax
and they sat in the studio just chatting
but suddenly he heard his wife return
from the shops
and he speed-muttered to his model:
"Quick! Undress before my wife sees us!"

*You know,  artists do see things differently

I caught the art thief -
he was a mastermind really
for he got such precious paintings
out of the Louvre easily
The amazing thing was
I caught him just minutes
from the museum;
his Econoline van
- would you believe it? –  ran out of fuel

Sure I asked him how
he could make such a mistake
steal so much treasure
and run out of gas just meters away

And he sighed with a Picasso face:
*"Oh ****, Monsieur!
I’d no Monet
to buy Degas to make
the Van Gogh…”

Mr and Mrs Proper Smith
are at the gallery
and the next work in line
that confronts them
is a **** woman with green leaves
to conceal her privates

Mrs Smith moves away
with quiet and dignity
but Mr Smith lingers, eyes on the leaves
Mrs Smith clears her throat
and enquires politely:
What are you waiting for, dear?

And comes swiftly
the reply, equally polite:
*Autumn

"you got your horse...
it's well drawn
elaborate and real
little Vicky -
but where's the cart?"
asks the art teacher

"Oh", says wicked Vicky
drawing on a lesson from her poetry class
"The horse will draw it"

report this poem
it's deviant
it may teeter into f-word terrain
and it's not what one might
think a poem ought to be

malign this poem
it's mutant
it does not have form,
history or conventions
it doesn't refer to a point in the world
it's self-referential
(no comment on poverty or humanity
no evaluation of terrorism or social ills -
it's not even about love
or about the poet's first-world woes)

and so pointing back at itself
it's like ******* -
which is always a crime, always has been;
de-construct this poem
for it drifts into no meaning -
it does not help humanity transcend

useless, uninspired, with no legitimacy
it must not be -
report this poem to have it removed