The Juxtaposition of Synchrony By aldo kraas, www.PoetryPoem.com/poet11586 Unlock all Features - Upgrade to Poetry Prime
Often Picasso's "The Old Guitarist"
comes to mind and i think of an
unheard symphony that emancipates
from the blind man's fingers as he
plays the instrument. These thoughts
are a dash against backdrops when
rain falls and the sun ceaselessly beats
and love alludes phases of syntheses.
Art is deprivation of the material and
the oil on canvas is daily nourishment;
yet deprivation of love is the worst. To
dip in grief till grieving leaves no more;
to grieve within wide spaces of a blue
cast, with an apparently distorted posture
if even. The gallons of cheap liquor flow
in-between settlements of the rib cage,
the place from where feelings pull their
grasps and another nautical day begets
nighttide. Blue undertones distinguish
a brown chord, to illuminate everyday
monochromes of tragic flaws, the flaw
being no flaw whatsoever in flat palettes.
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