Piet Mondrian, The Flowering Apple Tree, 1912 Yes, I know: only the happy man is liked. His voice is good to hear. His face is handsome. The crippled tree in the yard shows that the soil is poor, yet the passers-by abuse it for being crippled and rightly so. The green boats and the dancing …
Bertolt Brecht – Tempi brutti per la poesia / Bad Time for Poetry Read More »
Richard Hamilton, Swingeing London, 1967 The clever people slide downstream likewhite fishthrough blue water,past the rapids,the clever peoplewith their clever throats and eyebrows,their clever nostril hairs,both shoes laced,all dooms erased,teeth white,the clever people slide cleanly,even their deaths are one-tenth deaths,clever clever clever,they have better walls,better cars,a better way to laugh.Even their nightmares are ringed withtinsel,these …
Edvard Munch, The Dance of Life, 1899 Practically speaking the great words of great men are not so great. nor do great nations nor great beauties leave anything but the residue of reputation to be slowly gnawed away. nor do great wars seem so great, nor great poems nor first-hand legends. even the sad deaths …
Jean-Eugène Buland, Le Tripot, 1883 You know and I know and thee knowthat as the yellow shade ripsas the cat leaps wild-eyedas the old bartender leans on the woodas the hummingbird sleepsyou know and I know and thee knowas the tanks practice on false battlefieldsas your tires work the freewayas the midget drunk on cheap …
Charles Bukowski – Voi sapete e io so e tu sai / You know and I know and thee know Read More »
Ernst Ludwig Kirchner, Store in the Rain, 1927 Now that I’ve wasted five years in Manhattan life decaying talent a blank talking disconnected patient and mental sliderule and number machine on a desk autographed triplicate synopis and taxes obedient prompt poorly paid stayed on the market youth of my twenties fainted in offices wept on …
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural …
Create a website and earn with Altervista - Disclaimer - Report Abuse - Privacy Policy - Customize advertising tracking
