This is a poem that was inspired by my abstract paintings. Based on some people asking the question, “Is it meant to be something”?, and trying to analyze what might lie behind them.
In my attempts to express artistic temperament,
I seem to be obsessed with squares and cubist elements,
this does not cause me much anxiety
despite perhaps what Freud would have made of me,
I do not feel particularly repressed,
so please don’t even think this may suggest.
that just because my pictures are expensive,
that I’m in any way anal retentive,
or if it pleases you to think that rather,
I may have been alienated from my father,
and this causing me to cling to mother’s apron strings,
has done all sort of awful, heinous things,
affecting personality and psyche,
all I can say to tht my friend is crikey!
why must you try to psychoanalyse,
when i can clearlly see through your disguise,
you focus your attention full on me
to hide your own fears and insecurity,
so if I paint Picasso – like, and daub,
please don’t assume that I’m some kind of fraud,
I merely give vent to artistic inclination,
I’m not concerned with your pre-occupation,
with all things psychological and Freudian,
I paint my pictures because I want you to enjoy them.
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