Tag Archives: art

Visual Writes: Street Art Series, 003

IMG_6745

Photo: candylocs- 2016, Detroit, MI

CLASSIC

I knew this girl
She said
she said she didn’t care for music much
much?
I paused
I paused the beat in my head that kept my nod on point
point of the needle
spinnin vinyl
How could you not?
How could you not let music take you
sweep you away to ok
an ok that makes struggle a wonder
one hit wonder
I wonder what it’s like in silence
the silence of life and times
rhymes
I’ll find the need to go blind
before my mind loses all notes
They gather to melody that repeats it’s poetry
again and again
She said
she said she couldn’t concentrate
with lyrics buzzin as flies do
sweeping them away with bothered fingers and flicks of wrist
she insists
insists that all those words are made to distract
a distraction she has no time for
I sweep my fingers and flick my wrist
sweep away her words
her flies
An approaching drum swells
voices hum wells
oohs
ahhs
The song is back
I nod to the beat in my head
keeping the needle on point
spinnin vinyl.

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Selfish Aritistry

“It’s the twisting of the knife that matters most, that’s what gets them…the twist of the knife.
But please, please fill your desperate thirst for the dream with no consideration of ones around you. It is, in all, about you and nothing else.
Oh! To be a true artist; opportune blessings indeed!
To lose mind and self for artistry is a true gift of human genius and indulgence. Continue on this path of discovery and see where the light takes you.
The cold of an impenetrable wall or vast sky of creativity? We shall not know until we try.”

Pages

“Who do people open up to, if not on paper?”

I don’t think there’s anyone in my world

ready to hear my thoughts.

Sometimes..

I want a response that I can’t get from pages.

Shock reaction.

It’s the crazy, I think.

I knew that some would be affected.

I’ve been told my words can be knife like.

I choose my words carefully.

So the knives they feel are intentional.

I’ve been told my words are life like,

Changing.

These are my intentions as well.

I take joy in knowing I have a way with words.

In my mind, anyway..

I’m changing everyone’s life.

The Painter

All Black everything.
He didn’t want color in his world
He didn’t want to see
The beauty
of the Yellow sun
Red leaves
Blue water from the ocean

All Black everything.
His mind turned Black
Like the black bag that holds the bottle
Nobody can see what’s inside
But they all know
What he’s carrying

All Black everything
His world turned Black
He couldn’t find his way
Through the darkness created
By the black bag
We all knew he carried

Walking through a sea of color and light
Not realizing
His Blues are his own color of Red.
His love was the color Purple
Green
Orange
The hues of the blues
in clouds
that she was carried on
to him and his world of Black.

Now he sees
The trees
honey on the wings of bees
He sees
The white
dust that flows through the light
Painting his world
the colors he creates.