The patron of the arts disclaimed
The pattern of all art is shamed
For I don’t understand a thing
That really paints……. the picture winked.

But is not what that’s all around
Because of art… as is in sound
And propagate for all of these
Because the painter painted trees!
The patron of the arts believes..

No….but not enough explained
He tricked us all and from a frame
The brush stroke give as us life instill
A country scene upon a hill.

In oil acrylic and sunset red
The pallet knife decides instead
To breath and scrape a living shape
Into this unknown, a self portrait.
And sun and rain and then again
And scrapes and scrape until…..
Lines of sunlight mean no shape now (pause)
Lines of sunlight mean no shape now (is )
Distorted but not……

I see….. I see like it means more sense.
That what was seen then, in hours that now….have gone
Now is changed as I was…or could be wrong,
Just as
Paper sticks















 
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