The irises,
In van goghs,
Dreamy canvas,
Sway,
Like lovely ladies,
In purple gypsy dresses,
To a still lilys sonata,
As the roses and sunflowers,
Sigh in vivid chorus,
And hues
Reynaldo Casison
The curvaceous,
lake,
The waves,
shimmer,
With evening stars,
Like Van goghs irises,
We sat side by side,
One carefree summer,
Ethereal,
Its leaves,
Swayed,
Within us,
And the moon glowed
Reynaldo Casison
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
Alabaster staircase framing chandeliers
Picassos, Renoirs, Van Goghs lining the walls
Marble floors, dazzling in the starlight
Polished perfection staging the Night
Dainties, delicacies, tray after tray
Sweetmeats, exotic fruits, more on the way
Debonair men in their tuxes emerge from limousines
Women goddesses wear sequined gowns, leggy queens
Playboys, playgirls of the Riviera making the scene
Jealousy left wondering what it all means
starry nights
van goghs painting
created while he was a patient
in a mental hospital
salvadore dali
told by his parents
he was a reincarnation
of his dead brother
two messed up artists
who used their pain
to create beauty
to bring us joy
sun rise all day long
gold flowerworks exploding
van goghs sunflowers
From my diary: Introspection
We are a kaleidoscope of broken things,
Angels with clipped wings;
Dyslexic writers, fallen knights.
We are an army of crushed mights.
We are the troubled therapist;
An untuned symphony,
But we burn with our melancholic glory.
We are the comedian that finds it hard to smile,
We are the dreamers in exile;
A shy actor, an ugly butterfly.
We are the colorblind painter splashing the night sky.
We are the Beethovens and Van Goghs;
The brightest and the most magnificent are we,
Because we burn and burn forever in our melancholic glory
-and we can't be tamed.
VAN GOGH’S BLUES
We wake up on the same day
a hundred years later.
It's a very long first date.
The kind you hate to miss.
Now I'm up against the chocolate bars
playing symphony fantastique
in my lines going nowhere
walking the dirt walk towards Van Gogh
making my way
back to that concrete road
where I crossed
to the candy store
with the dollar in my hand
running from speeding Limousines
heading for their movie deals
into Kerouac's life screaming for more details
and wondering about Cassady
not wanting to go on without his
funny arrested stolen drunkeness
They say we can work with you
say that's fantastic, we'll take it.
Van Gogh’s ear sings tales all night
Soulful moaning over mind’s eye sight
Antagonize the heart and turn the eye
A visitor to the heart or passing by
From this spring that we all drink
What whispers all the thoughts we think
Lunatic genius with eyes turned in
Tell me where my mind has been
A freighting tether is shelter and cage
Where the writer’s pen touches page
Ink’s fossil trail bleeding from my pen
A history of where my heart has been
To go and not say in doing so
Beyond this point no words can go
With feet of clay and hand to chalk
I’ve come to hear Van Gogh’s ear talk
Opus Mysticus
Let us enter... and be silent.
My insanity hangs on the wall with all the other Van Goghs.
Sleeping snugly between semen stained sheets
and saliva creased pillow cases.
Inundations and vivid remembrances
of days dead and hours traumatized.
You and the skinny one behind the wheel.
Whistling depressing dirges in D minor.
Your vituperative Mein Kampf of the ages!
She lifted her skirt and unzipped my soul!
Young children bathing in the quagmire of Eden.
Bellerophone on Pegasus riding through Hell's Kitchen
in the upper east side.
My problems are but pinned butterflies
quasi-embalmed in glass cases
seeking in futile
the sweet revenge of past indignations.
Where are they now?
The artists of Transcript Necco?
Of Zoot Horn Rollo?
They're down on the dark city streets
off in dark scummy alleys
jamming till the lights go out.
Elucidations.
Proclivities.
Paragons.
Intense disaffections.
She lifted her skirt and unzipped my soul!
never ending walls
No opening to escape
claw marks on the brick
infinite walking
excercise for the sinners
we're carving out hell
three guards stand watching
mocking the lame sufferers
spitting at our feet
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This is for Abe Lopez's Van Gogh's Van Goghs
Title of painting: The Convict Prison
Artist: Vincent Van Gogh
Year:1890
Sturdy striding shoes
You searched for resplendent hues
Among common folk
Vincent, did you know
That the kingdom of heaven
Flowed from your paintbrush?
Based on the painting "A Pair of Shoes" - Written for Abe Lopez's "Van Gogh's Van Goghs"
contest
http://images.teamsugar.com/files/upl0/12/129120/04_2008/VanGoghShoes.jpg
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