'11 The Mind in The Canvas




My mind began to pulsate
and my eyes were vibrant
I glanced at my empty canvas
The linen ravished my mind
and the thread noted vision
Without lifting any tools
Guesso appeared layered
a linear began to emerge
not as paint or paste should
but letters in emotional color...
"Slowly I closed my eyes
as I began to picture more
but my canvas had portrayed
revealing my introduction
Debating with my accent
adding unnecessary fibers
no evidence of underpaint
splashing away in humour
but the letters had appeared
with my palms on my eyes
nodding no no no no no
I knew I should have stopped
just a thought with an end
ending with an army of words"
Moving my hands from my face
I stare at the empty canvas
My brushes have paint
Canvas in need of a voice
If I paint it, will it talk to me?
Need I write to paint a picture?
Will this canvas talk and reveal
the direction that needs paint?
The emotion that I portray
lures influence as to sway...
The canvas fiddles with the paint
My filbert seemed to interact
This piece is becoming a joke
My canvas is laughing out loud
I feel it is telling me its thoughts
or what others are going to think
What caused this illusion?
A corrupted imagination...
where art thou soy lecithin
So early in the piece, yess
It'll stop the colorful emotions
visualizing more painted words
I made an even bigger mess...
I should've ceased with the color,
Everything appeared better before...
splashed some passion, and splat!
...and my thoughts wandered off...
I believe I might have painted myself there.
I could have just drawn myself on paper...
No...maybe just outline myself and then,
...then cut myself out...hmm
It wont really matter anyway
I'll still crumble up into a ball
But then, I'd uncoil and start fresh
There's that machine over there
Since I'm already wrinkled
This time I'll just slide into the machine
and shred myself to end the last of me...
Besides, My works are just pieces of me...
Voila! Passionate art at its full effect.
© David Joel Rodriguez




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