Stroke by Genius

What changed you, are there some credits 

                                                 you should roll?

Was it James or Pablo that altered Steins view,

smartly, she said Henry, but we see reality by Picasso,

who chose distance to close in his view, 

                                                 making imagery true

deftly in paint and tone and on monotone, she drones on

in her oboe wind; Williams drinks down the Dionysus wine,

loose lipped, they slur together...same tune, 

                                                  sung the wrong song.

Was there a moment you became you?

Who was there claiming responsibility for all 

that you are, you are, yoar, no more non-sense,

blaspheme by contest, in jest, we protest and 

                                                 already we have infested 

too much to undo, not saying enough, playing tough

                                                  and rugged,

this is New, as good as-gold-as good as dead, and it was 

                                                   Good.

Where sparks once flew, the artist extinguishes with 

                                                    billows of blue, it will turn-.-

Image credit By Wide World Photos [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

The Creative Process by e.e. cummings 1 and 2 (plus 5)

                    

1.

Of my

Soul a street is:

Preternatural Pic-

abian tricktrickclickflidk-er

garner

of starfish Picasso

thrombosis trees

hit

my soul

repairs herself with

Prioress of Shari mind

and Matisse rhythms

to juggle Kandinsky gold-exchange-standard

away from the grind gifted

muscles of Cèzanne’s

logic

          Oho.

           A streamer

There is

where stramineous  birds     purr

2.

Picasso

you give us Things

which

bulbous: grunting lungs pumped fulgurate of Shari They mind

you make us shriek

presents always

shut in the sump screech of

simplicity

(out of the

bizarre unbolted

Something gushes vaguely a squeak of planes

or

between squeals of

Nothing grabbed with circuit breaker shrieking tiger-eye

solicitation screams whisper.)

Lumberman of the Distillation

your brain’s

axe only chops hued inherent

Trees of Ego, from

whose living and bifoliate

bodies lopped

of every

preternatural

you hew form true time

The above two poems originally composed by e.e. cummings have been given the 5 up adjective treatment whereby each original adjective is replaced by the preceding 5th word in the dictionary. Normally this is a 7-up process but I like the number 5 better. 

Image of painting by Wassily Kandinsky, Yellow-red-blue, c. 1925 [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.