The Poseur

There is a tribe called the Pseudo.

Professor Freud for the title.

Craze-mongers who pick up and drop cinéma-vérité.

Creators of films on the human buttocks.

Miss Ono, put her in the running.

Pseud of the 20th Century.

Pseuds and poseurs.

Expatiating compassionately on housing in the Gulag Archipelago.

Artists with intellectual pretensions.

A dreamy piano solo, recalling both Beiderbecke’s ‘In a Mist’ and early Schoenberg.

Gabbing about man’s suppressed nature.

Minerality in wine (mention limestone or granite and my eyeballs start rotating).

The genre is familiar, and the path through leads to Pseud’s Corner.

The writer wishes to rise above the phrasemaking of style publications.

Art School:

for the next 10 weeks, watch them fling clay about,

hilarious introspections,

And b***h at each other.

Reviews

[sakshi arora]

i think its about films and ahh cinema verite you imbibed that great .i liked your poem