Self portraits

Identity fertlized ad nauseam .

On a path between compostela 

and Ibiza .

Thus ,offended by a non-being

stylised in  bling-bling letters

the fairies lay wise cubist fantasia

on my birth coffin .

I am only this acrylic impression

on unspoken canvas ,

abstraction in the circus of the living ,

figural museum piece  

pickled in autistic reverie ...

That's make Dali's moustache 

stand on end ! 

And Modigliani's long nose lenghtens ! 

My father ,this custom officer 

with such a tender smile.

 Told me :

   "You'll be an artist my son ! ''

  ( Dad ,died of a bad temper ...)

Me ,I would have liked to be 

 a mechanic in the Titanic 's womb

and  sink into the limbo ..

 ( Mom is a I.A in another dimension).

  This world would have been smoother 

if Maradona had been a landscaper ...

 I've lost the damn' blue house key...

 This year Leonardo won the giro .

   I love this essence in  China ochre 

 for wild pastel souls .

Unfinished portraits,

scrawled faces of pastime girls

and pastiches..

Stealthy prints in sorrowful skins...

But the grinning beast is still there !

 Strinking a pose ,

making grotesques faces  

  and whispering sweet  little non sens : 

'' I've bought a frozen dinner for tonight love ! ''