This Picasso Imaginable Thing...
two faces of a woman 7: 32 AM
ah 7: 32 AM
picasso 7: 32 AM
mooo 7: 32 AM
ah 7: 33 AM
is that what it is 7: 33 AM
pain and happiness? 7: 33 AM
wa ko kabalo ana 7: 33 AM
picasso has a painting of a woman with two faces 7: 33 AM
i hav seen picasso's work 7: 33 AM
havent you seen it? 7: 33 AM
never realized that 7: 33 AM
yes cubism 7: 33 AM
he explained that to me while we were in barcelona spain 7: 34 AM
(har har har) 7: 34 AM
hahahha 7: 34 AM
good one 7: 34 AM
poor bald picasso 7: 34 AM
travel jud ang mind 7: 34 AM
still having lots of erections despite his ugly legs 7: 34 AM
mao ba? 7: 35 AM
hoe did u know that/ 7: 35 AM
how 7: 35 AM
the indefatigable picasso 7: 35 AM
wow 7: 35 AM
we were in the brothels of paris with alexander pope 7: 35 AM
hahaah 7: 35 AM
mahilig jud ang artist no 7: 35 AM
honestly, i have the book 7: 35 AM
good 7: 36 AM
the writers in europe sometimes find themselved in reunion and communion with whores and drink red whores beer together 7: 36 AM
yes! Edgar Degas too 7: 37 AM
my fav
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Picasso Is...
Picasso is...
Picasso transcends mortality.
Picasso is fury artistic dynamics in motion.
Picasso always moving in styles
to new levels of artistic perception
through seen seam fractures
of shift broken molten imagery.
Picasso is walking through walls.
Picasso is rebirth in conception.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Last Picasso
Words and music by neil diamond
The last picasso, the last picasso was just acquired by some old museum, and don quixote, well don quixote the old mans rhyme has lost its reason; which only reminds me have I remembered to say that without you this life of plenty, would seem so empty, the last picasso. oh me and you--me oh me oh me oh me and you-- we, we can sigh--me oh me oh me oh me oh we can sigh. the last picasso, the last picasso may gather dust amid the ruins, and don quixote, well don quixote may no longer make his wishful tunes; but I still have you and I will have you when evrything else is gone and done with. well be like one with the last picasso. oh me and you--me oh me oh me oh me oh me and you-- we, we can sigh--me oh me oh me oh me oh we can sigh. oh, me and you--me oh me oh me oh me oh me and you-- we, we can sigh--me oh me oh me oh me oh we can sigh. oh, me and you--we we can sigh me oh me oh me oh we can sign. oh, me and you.
song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Picasso's always been such a huge influence that I thought when I started the cartoon paintings that I was getting away from Picasso, and even my cartoons of Picasso were done almost to rid myself of his influence.
quote by Roy Lichtenstein
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fractured Reality Picasso Clarification
No one can convey a fractured broken reality
as masterfully as Picasso
his Guernica render is the most realistic
rendering of media mediated Guera Guera
not his fault the consequences were surreal
Picasso is so broad a human no one should reduce
and cubic is perspective shift
put in a surreal 'ism'
Picasso is my enemy I will overcome him
so as to reduce his breadth
Cube(ism) is not an all inclusive stand
Picasso is my best friend
I will always admire him
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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My mother said to me, 'If you are a soldier, you will become a general. If you are a monk, you will become the Pope.' Instead, I was a painter, and became Picasso.
quote by Pablo Picasso
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When I was a child, my mother said to me, "If you become a soldier, you'll be a general. If you become a monk you'll end up as the pope." Instead I became a painter and wound up as Picasso.
quote by Pablo Picasso
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cubic Picasso Cubism
'Cubism quanta measureless'
is another reality perception phrase
reality surreal continues voyages
was not ‘'Cubism' Picasso’ written
reflecting upon our earlier conversation?
does not our regular discussion upon art
all realities before between after
not enrich perceptive worlds thoughts art
does not Picasso emotion inflict our souls?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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When Picasso painted in Paris, was he a Spanish or a French painter? It does not matter, he was Picasso, whatever the influences surrounding him. He simply chose Paris because it was the ideal place for him to sell his creation.
quote by Jean-Jacques Annaud
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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La Guernica '33 Dais
title international headlines
wait for Blitzkrieg lightning war billing
music is city-busting pounding...
at chaos echo empty wall standing
Pablo Picasso is impaled screams hearing
dictatorship carpet bombing falling...
'Antonio Banderas
Is Going To Be One
Sexy Pablo Picasso'
maybe an Oscar win
in dramatic movie '33 Dais'
(33 Days) ? Antonio
will act staged part
swear blood dripping paint
perhaps even realize
a sexy Picasso
in grasped psyche
mind strokes
but as for impaled painting
La Guernica other artists
have already soul possessed
protest painting
in mind spaces
war illuminating
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Pablo Picasso
Well some people try to pick up girls
And get called assholes
This never happened to Pablo Picasso
He could walk down your street
And girls could not resist his stare and
So Pablo Picasso was never called an asshole
Well the girls would turn the color
Of the avocado when he would drive
Down their street in his El Dorado
He could walk down your street
And girls could not resist his stare
Pablo Picasso never got called an asshole
Not like you
Alright
Well he was only 5'3"
But girls could not resist his stare
Pablo Picasso never got called an asshole
Not in New York
Oh well be not schmuck, be not obnoxious,
Be not bellbottom bummer or asshole
Remember the story of Pablo Picasso
He could walk down your street
And girls could not resist his stare
Pablo Picasso was never called an asshole
Alright this is it
Some people try to pick up girls
And they get called an asshole
This never happened to Pablo Picasso
He could walk down your street
And girls could not resist his stare and so
Pablo Picasso was never called...
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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‘Cubism’ Picasso
‘cubism’ picasso
‘cubism’ unique
‘cubism’ genius
‘cubism’ creativity
‘cubism’ individuality
‘cubism’ spontaneity
generating
provoking
ani mating
impulses
internalizes
influen ces
it is us?
or it is trying too hard?
or a mind merges?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Fusion Womanhood
in western nose features
in the still grace of form
in colours sparse informal
Picasso pays homage to Africa
she speaks with her hands
hears with many ears past
stands in poise confidence beauty
free to be a unique appreciated woman
a woman who sees who she wants to be
there is great peace love sage within
many joys to future balance reign
Picasso themes woman equality free
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Picasso Votive Gift To Incoming Tides
picasso painting pictures
into soft moist tidal sands
Poseidon gift to windswept waves
Picasso gift to turn incoming tides
beach sunshine salt gift to eternities
Louvre masterpieces wet etch skies
random stroller fresh scribed ecstasies
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Petrov-Vodkin: I felt as if I couldn't live without Picasso. So I began to buy them one by one. Picasso hypnotized me, bewitched me. It is clear that the flag raised by Shchukin has launched a revolution.
line from Sergei Shchukin, Tale Of An Art Collector, script by Tania Rakhmanova (2016)
Submitted by Festivalul Filmului European
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Museum Exhibit Dream Flux
time past tourist tour long over
exhibit art pace sighted
days afterglow ferment clover
burn vision mind eyed
we breathe Picasso spirit live
experience sculpture paint
inner eye think felt thrive jive
Picasso passion blaze thought
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Chocolate Cake
Not everyone in new york would pay to see andrew lloyd webber
May his trousers fall down as he bows to the queen and the crown
I dont know what tune the orchestra played
But it went by me sickly sentimental
Can I have another piece of chocolate cake
Tammy bakers got a lot on her plate
Can I buy another cheap picasso fake
Andy warhol must be laughing in his grave
The band of the night take you to ethereal heights over dinner
And you wander the streets never reaching the heights that you seek
And the sugar that dripped from the violins bow made the children go crazy
Put a hole in the tooth of a hag
Can I have another piece of chocolate cake
Tammy baker must be losing her faith, yeah
Can I buy another cheap picasso fake
Andy warhol must be laughing in his grave
And dogs are on the road, were all tempting fate
Cars are shooting by with no number plates
And here comes missis hairy legs
I saw elvis presley walk out of a seven eleven
And a woman gave birth to a baby and then bowled 257
Now the excess of fat on your american bones
Will cushion the impact as you sink like a stone
Can I have another piece of chocolate cake
Tammy baker, tammy baker
Can I buy another cheap picasso fake
Cheap picasso, cheap picasso fake
Can I have another piece of chocolate cake
Kathy straker boy could she lose some weight
Can I buy another slice of real estate
Liberace must be laughing in his grave
song performed by by Crowded House
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Is Art Ego?
Is art ego
when your Picasso?
Many critics spat
cast judgment so thought.
What thought
Picasso’s retort?
To live breathe art
in liquid sculpture paint
at consuming rate
afire fiber tracks late
descent desire spine sate
to create to create
poem by Terence George Craddock
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In the Dim Light at the Threshold of a Parisian Bar!
Cezanne and Renoir
At a corner table
Younger Artists
Matisse and Picasso nearby
Finishing a bottle of Rum!
I want to ask them
About 'The Girl with green eyes'
Henry Matisse's best work for me
And 'Guernica' Pablo Picasso made me a mad!
My beloved switched on the ceiling lamp
And said; 'Hey! Honey it's Mother's day'
Then I thought of my two Mothers!
My poor Mom & Beloved!
And I collect my scattered pastel sticks,
Then wife says; 'You finish it next year that I am sure.'
'Certainly I want to send a painting for an International Art competition
And If I win darling I'll piggyback you up to the Eiffel Tower
As I heard in my dream poor deceased Mom works there in a Cafeteria!
(To all the Mothers of the World who contributed their tears in vain for the Oceans. Brother killing of each other not yet finished?)
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Mamie in Malaga.
Mamie met you
in the base camp bar
in Malaga
her curly red hair
damp from a recent shower
and said
Picasso was born here
In this bar?
you said
No
she moaned
In the city
in 1881
and she took the drink
you'd bought her
I like Picasso don't you?
she asked
taking a sip
of the drink
and you noticed
the tight tee shirt
snugly holding
her firm breasts
and her eyes bright
as sunlight's breaking dawn
yes
you said
I like his later work
not the Blue
or Pink period or
that Cubist shite
and your eyes
slipped downwards
along her slender frame
the tight blue jeans
caressing her small
but plumpish ass
her fingers holding
the glass
and you thinking
of other things
far removed
from Picasso‘s art
though knowing he
would understand
where your mind
had wandered
and what the scene
your mind had set
like some dramatist
preparing for a play
she sipped more
of the drink
her head thrown back
the nice turn
of the neck
the chin
the nose
the ears protruding slight
between her red
and curly hair
and wondered deep
as you drank your own
if the other hair below
between her thighs
was as red and tight
as that above
and she said
breaking through
your thoughts
Was it lust or love
that moved his brush
Picasso I mean?
and oh you mused
taking on her words
and squeezing
the meaning
from each syllable
that was uttered
on her breath
to lay my head
upon her breast
not to sleep
but dreaming rest
and you turning to her
said High love or low lust
fed by his fond muse
moved his brush I trust.
poem by Terry Collett
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What Max Wanted
What do you want from me?
Max's wife said
and he looked by her
at the waitress
at the cafe
who was walking
with some order
behind his wife's back
and he noticed
the cute ass as she moved
the way she swayed
and the hands
holding the tray
huh? What is it
you want from me?
his wife repeated
her eyes peering at him
taking in
that aspect of him
as he turned his head
look said Max
following the waitress
to the table across the way
his eyes slowly
undressing her
his mind making up scenes
like in some movie
you say come on Honey
let's go out for a meal
and talk
and what are you doing
looking elsewhere
and not talking
his wife said
spittle on her lower lip
Max looked back
at his wife and said
oh yes sure
I was thinking
of the Picasso print
we saw the other day
you know that one
we both liked
and you said you'd like it
for your birthday
well maybe
I ought to get it
what do you think?
And the waitress
looked over at Max
as she went by
and he saw
a whole new ball game
in her eyes
and caught the cheek
and ear
and was sure
he captured some aspect
of her perfume
and his wife said
Picasso?
That Picasso?
are you sure Max?
and she went into a daze
and smiled
and Max imagined himself
and the waitress
and sex games
and a party
going wild.
poem by Terry Collett
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