Tuesday, April 3, 2012

the Green Fairy by Bob Atkinson



The Green Fairy


(c)2012 Bob Atkinson

at the new Athens night saw the dark
terrible burdens of paintings and verse
carried the methods distorted and terse
could never arrange more rational words

ceded his quest for subject met
she'd sit there and ponder and fret
seen the good day dissolve into chaos
debts upon debts resulted from layoffs

theater posted a notice with which
she'd seen all her good work tossed to a ditch
thrown into bonfires without any water
tied to her station like horse to its collar

wondered why Edgar had offered this work
to paint in the cafe where those minds disturbed
had spent their good fortunes, mental resources
migrating from normal to socially disordered

absinthe, the sponge which softened their brains
removing what little sense they had ingrained
Vincent had tried to remain composed
nutcakes are nutcakes, no matter what form

no money worth the taunts and shame
of sitting for Degas in friendless cafes
talent, he had, his works surpassed peers
others showed always their arses with sneers

those animals who had no good means
like Charles, van Gogh and Henri Matisse
would pass by, taunt her, not giving her peace
treating her badly, like so much free meat


Edgar expected this from his friends
they stomped in and out not smiling at him
she sat there a glass of water to sip
while he painted green what rose to her lips

wanted no part of these ugly folks
they drank absinthe and moved backward at most
from where they had come, their letters of arts
shrank to oblivion because of herb gum

knew they had started their craft in good form
with good lines of paint or verbiage if poems
had driven themselves deep into stupor
the darkness of madness this evil brew caused

moved away from good sense to social disorder
Charles had chosen those words so immoral
about what had been in minds but not tongues
saying those bad things that had round gongs rung

with fines and black listing of his six sets of poems
had chosen to deepen evil in his written discourses
no restraints of morality or rules of behavior
threw to the winds what had been God given

Vincent rejected painting's with form
for some such weird blocked abstracted abnormals
absinthe she viewed as the cause of this mess
seeing it first hand had sickened her temper

Degas must leave this place with this drink
leave it or else will make him sink
into morass of mental decay
caused by a drink with sweetened mint taste

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