The puppets from “Pinocchio”
Were beautifully displayed;
Picassos, Cezannes and Van Goghs
Were artfully arrayed.
The photographs and furniture
Were waiting to be seen
By locals, tourists, school groups
And all people in between.
At MOMA* there is so much art –
Kandinsky, Rothko, Klee –
Just one thing has been missing,
‘Til today, and that was me!
*Museum of Modern Art
Albert Barnes, who grew up poor,
Became extremely rich
And had the means to buy some art,
Which satisfied an itch.
He bought Cezannes, Renoirs, Monets,
Picassos and Matisse
And mounted all upon his walls
As numbers did increase.
He wrote a will with lots of terms
About his precious art;
The public could come twice a week
And that was just the start.
His paintings weren’t to be moved
Or loaned to anyone,
But since his death, financial woes
Meant trouble had begun.
A legal battle did ensue;
The artwork all was moved.
In spirit, Barnes was honored;
A new building was approved.
And thus I got to see this art
His trustees seemed to save –
A treasure trove unparalleled –
While Barnes rolls in his grave!
(Barnes Foundation Museum in Philadelphia)
in Cezannes colour of blue ...?
think it through and feel it out;
yes, if it's under-understood,
it'll be over-stated and over-the-top --
It'll bring restraint 'round the
swelling of that
voice inside, which shudders
to jab with the tongue --
It'll watch
for dissonant growls
and raucous rants
all diseased by your need to disagree...
between your terminal-shadow of despair,
where your dark inadequacy lingers,
it'll dismantel your misery
and unravel your fear --
pieces of you,
that're not nearly risen ...
they'll make short work
of the inviolate rhythm of your suffering;
in the simple words of death,
-- forever