George Grosz Tattoo

February 26, 2009 at 6:28 pm | Posted in poetry, writing | 8 Comments
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(Man removes bowler hat at orgy.)
At the risk of being accused of mutual mythodology or the arrogance required for rank self-promotion, (ie exaggerating the efficacy of me wares (hitching his trousers?)), nor for one minute suggesting there is anything at stake, that I sacrifice my shyness and natural humility for the cause of a far more honest ideal. (As they drop to the floor?), I would like to point out
that now
is an excellent time
to put aside your pleasant masks and costumeries and attempt some kind of truth.

Or like some flatulent senator awaiting superannuation, wallow in your clever cynicism which, delighting in its own lack of passion and motivated by fear, denies anything that truely claims a purpose, only to discover the party has occurred in your absence.

George Grosz’ Shoulder

December 10, 2008 at 6:51 pm | Posted in genre isn't dead yet but it should be, poetry, writing | 9 Comments
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Looking over, it has a certain plumpness of line.

Toodle doo he’s saying come here my dear.
His gaze slightly averted
as though indicating some other room
where other things are possible, ill-lit of course,
and whose mind does not drift to the illicit there?
There’s no shame in it, you were born to it,
come reap your just reward.

My feet are sore she thinks from all this dancing,
somewhere soft to sit perhaps,
beyond this constant rattle of sabres recline,
and my those medals shine.

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