Friday, September 17, 2004

A Poem

White spirit on my spirit

A painters soul on my hands

oil dripping through frozen fingers

Ice clay shaping

monumental forms

Art is subjective, don't you know

i see beauty in your

eyes

but your soul is becoming black

as your doodles become evil

hatred in every stroke

and you influence the art

that draws it's self around you

blue and black

on white

white purity

on

Paper

2 comments:

.:petal:. said...

.:petal:. said...