Alice Gormley - Mona Lisa Mashed Potato

I play with past participles
Like a child does with plasticine
Shyly situated at her deserted desk
Desultory with the spectrum
Making a masterpiece
A complete and utter mess

Of incompatibility
No army of Dysons could attack.
Slack, coy, abstract,
And I can mould that.
Until you spew out your poor education and Adidas syntax on my lap.

Dustpan and Brush
(both bastards)
Sweeping my talent from the tabletop,
Because it doesn’t resemble a Tweenie, a plane or my Mother.

Integrating into it’s multiplicity of condescending spears
My ‘piece of shit’ in your deprived linguistics
My so-described expletive that took me years.

My tongue-between-milk-teeth endeavour,
My Picasso Playdo.
My Mona Lisa mashed potato.

Roll my magnum opus into a colourful, wasteful snowball,
Pick up a crumb, some carrot, thumbprints and half a biscuit,
Then auction it off to the bin men.

Tell Thomas to show you his tank engine,
Tell Rosie to show you her boat.
This is what true sculptors sculpt.
We like to salivate over their scholastic-fantastic result,
And our league table growth.

Alice Gormley

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mona-lisa-mashed-potato/