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"matta" poems
_New York                                after a trip to Mexico, & not finally explored_.    In 1991, shortly before he died,                                   Motherwell   remembered a "conspiracy of silence"                        regarding Paalen´s innovative role in the genesis of Abstract Expressionism. Upon return from Mexico,                       Motherwell               spent time developing his creative principle               based on automatism:    "what I realized was that Americans      potentially could paint like angels,              but that there      was no effective                        creative principle around,                      so that everybody      who liked modern art        was copying it;                            Gorky was copying Picasso;                          ******* was copying Picasso;                   De Kooni                                   ng was copying Picasso;               I mean,          I say this unqualifiedly,                   I was painting French intimate pictures or whatever:             All we needed was a creative principle,             I mean something that would mobilize this capacity to paint in a creative way,                   & that's what Europe                         had that we                         hadn't had;                                                 we had always followed in their wake                         &       I thought of all the possibilities             |               [                    ], [                 ]    of free association—because I also had    a psychoanalytic background & I understood the implications of—let's just say it might be the best chance                           to really make something entirely new which everybody agreed was the thing to do;" Thus, in the early 1940s,          Robert Motherwell played a significant role in laying the foundations for the new movement of Abstract Expressionism (or the New York School):                  "Matta wanted to start a revolution,  m [a movement w/in                    Surrealism].                   He asked me to find some other                   American artists that would help start   a new movement;                   it was then that Baziotes                                            & I went to see ******* & de Kooning       & Hofmann & Kamrowski &     Busa & several other people;      &                                           if we could come with something;      Peggy Guggenheim, who liked us said that she      would put on a show of this new business;      ... so I went around explaining         _the theory of automatism_      to everybody because _the only way_      that you could have a _move - - - ment_      was that it had some _common_                                                        _principle_. It sort of all began that way." In 1942 Motherwell began to exhibit        his work in New York and in 1944        he had his first one-man show at        Peggy Guggenheim’s _“Art of This Century”_ gallery;                   that same year,                   the MoMA                   was the first museum                   purchase one of his works;   From the mid-1940s,                   Motherwell [                   ], [                 ]. (            )                   became the leading spokesman                   for _avant-garde art in America_;                   his circle coming to include                                           William Baziotes,                   David Hare, Barnett Newman,                         & Mark Rothko, with whom he eventually             started the Subjects of the Artist School (1948–49). In 1949 Motherwell divorced             Maria Emilia Ferreira y Moyeros    and in 1950 he married Bettie                                                                   Little,                                                                   with whom he had two daughters
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Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 11:18 PM UTC
Eli Simple as MOTHERWELL in "Automatic" [w/ Milky Toes as Peggy Guggenheim]:::NOW:::PLAYING:::w/ IT
_New York                                after a trip to Mexico, & not finally explored_.    In 1991, shortly before he died,                                   Motherwell   remembered a "conspiracy of silence"                        regarding Paalen´s innovative role in the genesis of Abstract Expressionism. Upon return from Mexico,                       Motherwell               spent time developing his creative principle               based on automatism:    "what I realized was that Americans      potentially could paint like angels,              but that there      was no effective                        creative principle around,                      so that everybody      who liked modern art        was copying it;                            Gorky was copying Picasso;                          ******* was copying Picasso;                   De Kooni                                   ng was copying Picasso;               I mean,          I say this unqualifiedly,                   I was painting French intimate pictures or whatever:             All we needed was a creative principle,             I mean something that would mobilize this capacity to paint in a creative way,                   & that's what Europe                         had that we                         hadn't had;                                                 we had always followed in their wake                         &       I thought of all the possibilities             |               [                    ], [                 ]    of free association—because I also had    a psychoanalytic background & I understood the implications of—let's just say it might be the best chance                           to really make something entirely new which everybody agreed was the thing to do;" Thus, in the early 1940s,          Robert Motherwell played a significant role in laying the foundations for the new movement of Abstract Expressionism (or the New York School):                  "Matta wanted to start a revolution,  m [a movement w/in                    Surrealism].                   He asked me to find some other                   American artists that would help start   a new movement;                   it was then that Baziotes                                            & I went to see ******* & de Kooning       & Hofmann & Kamrowski &     Busa & several other people;      &                                           if we could come with something;      Peggy Guggenheim, who liked us said that she      would put on a show of this new business;      ... so I went around explaining         _the theory of automatism_      to everybody because _the only way_      that you could have a _move - - - ment_      was that it had some _common_                                                        _principle_. It sort of all began that way." In 1942 Motherwell began to exhibit        his work in New York and in 1944        he had his first one-man show at        Peggy Guggenheim’s _“Art of This Century”_ gallery;                   that same year,                   the MoMA                   was the first museum                   purchase one of his works;   From the mid-1940s,                   Motherwell [                   ], [                 ]. (            )                   became the leading spokesman                   for _avant-garde art in America_;                   his circle coming to include                                           William Baziotes,                   David Hare, Barnett Newman,                         & Mark Rothko, with whom he eventually             started the Subjects of the Artist School (1948–49). In 1949 Motherwell divorced             Maria Emilia Ferreira y Moyeros    and in 1950 he married Bettie                                                                   Little,                                                                   with whom he had two daughters
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70
It aint the same everwhere I know it took a man To stand and stare Down them gallows In Zebullon county square Lil Mae age of 21 saw her man with another moaned "I'm gonna make you pay" now some of you wanna say "Lil Mae get a gun make that man pay" To mad to see to hurt to care Lil Mae stormed her way down to Zebullon county square. Bobby Lee wasn't a simple man to proud to be dumb could read and write Yet he never let no one know Bobby Lee workin late bumped into a drunk, back on that old alley Bobby Lee took a beating by four whites the blood poured out into the streetlight Soon enough the sheriff came a runnin "whats the matter here!!" white men shouted "the boy had it coming, he took my money try to **** me, sheriff I had to do something!!" 12 days later 12 men had a shine sentenced ***** Lee to hang Saturday morning half past nine sun be coming up behind him so his shadow would grow tall on that line. Sun rose cool that day Folks lined up to watch Ol Bobby Lee pay. Soon they all began to scatter preacher man shouted '"whats a matta" Lil Mae had come with blade readied for her last stand "Preacher man" Lil Mae shouted "you goin to hell, no doubt about it" "Im gonna send you there by my hand." silver plated blade glistened in the sky "lord my soul , dont let me die!" Blood sank from the preachers throat Lil Mae watched til his last choke Crowd screamed "NO!!" but it fell on Gods deaf ears "Lil Mae" came her mans voice "why you do it?" She reckoned "I had no choice" "I love you but you put me to it. you and this preacher man ripped me apart." Lil Mae's man stood in the middle of the square tears draining life, sobs stealing air...... Bobby Lee innocent as he was unwrapped his noose and slowly walked away Lil Mae stood her ground on them gallows but it gave way half pass nine she fell in line the sun made her shadow tall dead before her body went through the gallows fall
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May 3, 2013
May 3, 2013 at 1:58 PM UTC
Lil Mae
It aint the same everwhere I know it took a man To stand and stare Down them gallows In Zebullon county square Lil Mae age of 21 saw her man with another moaned "I'm gonna make you pay" now some of you wanna say "Lil Mae get a gun make that man pay" To mad to see to hurt to care Lil Mae stormed her way down to Zebullon county square. Bobby Lee wasn't a simple man to proud to be dumb could read and write Yet he never let no one know Bobby Lee workin late bumped into a drunk, back on that old alley Bobby Lee took a beating by four whites the blood poured out into the streetlight Soon enough the sheriff came a runnin "whats the matter here!!" white men shouted "the boy had it coming, he took my money try to **** me, sheriff I had to do something!!" 12 days later 12 men had a shine sentenced ***** Lee to hang Saturday morning half past nine sun be coming up behind him so his shadow would grow tall on that line. Sun rose cool that day Folks lined up to watch Ol Bobby Lee pay. Soon they all began to scatter preacher man shouted '"whats a matta" Lil Mae had come with blade readied for her last stand "Preacher man" Lil Mae shouted "you goin to hell, no doubt about it" "Im gonna send you there by my hand." silver plated blade glistened in the sky "lord my soul , dont let me die!" Blood sank from the preachers throat Lil Mae watched til his last choke Crowd screamed "NO!!" but it fell on Gods deaf ears "Lil Mae" came her mans voice "why you do it?" She reckoned "I had no choice" "I love you but you put me to it. you and this preacher man ripped me apart." Lil Mae's man stood in the middle of the square tears draining life, sobs stealing air...... Bobby Lee innocent as he was unwrapped his noose and slowly walked away Lil Mae stood her ground on them gallows but it gave way half pass nine she fell in line the sun made her shadow tall dead before her body went through the gallows fall
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69
I am chasing this thing that always eludes me. In the day he openly embraces Man. See, they’ve known each other for centuries, shoulder to shoulder, unrelenting hand in unrelenting hand as they dance betwixt the world of fantasy and pain. A universe I know all too well. A courtesy we could never have. Matta still in my eyes, limbs sore from just being born, naivete radiating from my skin. I trail, inquire, plead— he laughs in my face before evaporating observe. I have a plan. I could forfeit my mind, let ambition and sense seethe through my temples. Knees the color of my behind from crawling through the mud. Pungent fertilizer gathering underneath my nails as I plant hibiscus, mint and poinciana in a Man’s garden. My body falling apart and together at the calloused hands of my oppressor. There must be another way. I turned to the sky, they know us Women well. Every thirty moons, I offer up a sacrifice. Take this crimson sea between my anchors that Mother ordained. Take it and give us strength. He eludes me still. I fight and I protest and I bawl and I break down and I stand up and I smile and I make love to anyone capable of loving. I am still searching. Tactile, hard and brown like an egg’s shell you can’t see this soft, permeable mass yet it lives, survives. But the chase is over.
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Aug 26, 2019
Aug 26, 2019 at 12:51 AM UTC
Woman, Wound
Just a little ditty, not too witty, when my youngest is now of age, in the United States, but has been for two years in Canada, it doesn't matta, so Happy Birthday son as of midnight you are twenty one, in human years not dog years you speak of dreams and you stream ideas of a better world, while I do NanoWriMo you talk of Nano Technology where you will go to University in Ontario, after you go to Australia, I hope we don't fail ya' by casting love clouds of doubt, or just stand by and shout, like some cheerleader, but really listen and hear ya' for you have leader ship skills and intutive creativity with a proclivity that will help you sail for years in the world where small is becoming huge if you can just find the wind if you can just find the wind
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Nov 13, 2013
Nov 13, 2013 at 1:24 AM UTC
Just find the wind
FEAR TO PART... ASIF SULTAN MATTA Monday, 28th September 2015 Once more the fear engulfed my heart, the fear to part, ever abides; The fear, that makes my nights cry and quivers within me intense tide; Once more my eyes may leak the tears And drown my world, wrench dry inside shivering usual and rest just rare Is dread of death or love's chide? forlorn and fearful seems my fate no one to share no one is guide. Should I once more console my wits? snub  the  dark  and  show  it  sky? passion to stand and zeal to fight, but heart is chained and hands tied.
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Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 12:14 PM UTC
Fear to Part by Asif Sultan Matta
So much **** in my head/ this exact feelin' i dread/ if it ain't one thing it's another/ can you hear the faint sounds of thunder/ betta run fo' cover/ cuz when it rains it pours/ so betta be prepared for more/ stack up your sandbags, reinforce your levy's/ cuz all the payn, can get so heavy/ don't let the water, rush ya/ it has the strength 2 crush ya/ i know you feel the pressure/ don't let it stress ya/ if the water starts 2 rize/ don't be surprised/ just be aware, the current might take waves/ don't be fooled by the size/ it's the force beneath/ that can pull you off your feet/ and take you 2 see all life in the sea/ if you lose your balance don't panic/ relax and treed water if you can manage/ try 2 stay afloat/ hopefully you'll see a boat/ and you can climb aboard/ it may be over now, but stay prepared for more/ there may be a leak in the floor/ and once again, fightin' the force/ bail out the water and find a plug 2 stop the faucet, thats pourin'/ try 2 see what caused it, though it may not matta/ it might help save you from diasta'/ then in your last moment of dispair/ you look and land is near/ try 2 make it there/ jump ship or try 2 make a repair/ paddles or not/ sometimes the boat you must rock/ pull up your anchor, don't jus sit in the same spot/ once you've reached shore/ your not done, be prepared for more/ different obstacles are awaiting'/ don't spend so much time debating/ make a decision, either way consequences are waitin'/ which way 2 go/ we don't always know/ look 2 the stars/ yeah their far/ but they can help show, which way 2 go/ North, South, East, West, i truly don't know who knows best/ Storms will come and go, and some will be harder then the rest, but just remember always live your best.
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Nov 18, 2012
Nov 18, 2012 at 6:38 PM UTC
Mind Stormin'
So much **** in my head/ this exact feelin' i dread/ if it ain't one thing it's another/ can you hear the faint sounds of thunder/ betta run fo' cover/ cuz when it rains it pours/ so betta be prepared for more/ stack up your sandbags, reinforce your levy's/ cuz all the payn, can get so heavy/ don't let the water, rush ya/ it has the strength 2 crush ya/ i know you feel the pressure/ don't let it stress ya/ if the water starts 2 rize/ don't be surprised/ just be aware, the current might take waves/ don't be fooled by the size/ it's the force beneath/ that can pull you off your feet/ and take you 2 see all life in the sea/ if you lose your balance don't panic/ relax and treed water if you can manage/ try 2 stay afloat/ hopefully you'll see a boat/ and you can climb aboard/ it may be over now, but stay prepared for more/ there may be a leak in the floor/ and once again, fightin' the force/ bail out the water and find a plug 2 stop the faucet, thats pourin'/ try 2 see what caused it, though it may not matta/ it might help save you from diasta'/ then in your last moment of dispair/ you look and land is near/ try 2 make it there/ jump ship or try 2 make a repair/ paddles or not/ sometimes the boat you must rock/ pull up your anchor, don't jus sit in the same spot/ once you've reached shore/ your not done, be prepared for more/ different obstacles are awaiting'/ don't spend so much time debating/ make a decision, either way consequences are waitin'/ which way 2 go/ we don't always know/ look 2 the stars/ yeah their far/ but they can help show, which way 2 go/ North, South, East, West, i truly don't know who knows best/ Storms will come and go, and some will be harder then the rest, but just remember always live your best.
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1
Man får säga ibland Att det finns skönhet som inte går att beskriva När till och med en himmelsk strand Skulle se gräslig ut om man skulle jämföra Så länge jag bor här Kommer det inte finnas något att klaga på Vi är som ett par Med två partiklar som möttes och blev oskiljaktiga Jag har varit med dig i tre år nu Och kärleken brinner fortfarande Det är uppenbarligen jag och du Och det är inget erbjudande Det är hellre ett vackert oundvikligt löfte Som skrevs med outplånligt bläck på ett häfte Du ser ut som en mångfacetterad hydra Som står ovanför en blå matta Det känns så skönt att korsa dina broar Och att gå vilse i kurvorna du har Jag måste också prata om din gröna klänning Som man inte kan undvika att smeka Den absorberar solsken, släpper syre, får oss att leva Och gör mig glad när jag kommer kring Du är ljusare än solen under sommaren Men mörkare än ett svart hål när vinter spränger dörren Som regnet som får regnbågen att dyka upp Uppskattar jag mörkret för då ser man norrsken Samtidigt, brukar snö bygga upp En vit rock som försvinner sen Du var inte mitt första val från början Men nu står du högst upp på listan Jag behöver erkänna att jag är kär i dig Trots att du inte ens är en riktig tjej.
0
Feb 18, 2020
Feb 18, 2020 at 12:37 PM UTC
Stockholm
Its either Chaos, contagion, or comatose They weigh in Those Heavy Pheromones find a way to Overgrow Almost anything No Matta what
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Jan 26, 2021
Jan 26, 2021 at 6:37 PM UTC
Its either, or