Tuesday, July 10, 2012

The poet and the painter

A poet and a painter
Went walking along the shore
Of a river.
They talked of their lives
And their art.
The painter proclaimed 
After drawing deserted squares
And war torn buildings
He had repainted borders.
In his own hands
Taken the brushstroke
Lithely and sharp.
Eagerly he had
Redrawn maps,
Whitewashed societies ailments,
Drew divisions so deep
Into weak psyche
That even after his final strokes
Were laid upon the canvas
There were people who
Believed his art as truth.

The poet laughed 
And in a rehearsed voice
Recounted how he had rewrote history.
How the verses so bold in imagery,
Had raised armies and toppled religions.
With words craftily slanted
Set revolutions of starving people
Against their own,
Simple psalms that echoed
Into the minds of the vulnerable;
Drafts generations took as god.
Moreover he spoke
About his feats of literature
Overcoming question, propagated to the point where truth was changed.
Rewriting a nations language and policies into a police state.
How his poetry echoes still through the institutions of learning,
His picture lauded by millions.

The poet and the painter
Arrived at a gate
The three headed dog bowed
Welcoming them to damnation;
For these were his masters
Who had sent so many his way
Through pretty words,
Grim paintings,
And false promises.

Please visit non-negitive arts, thanks.

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