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Poem

Sculpture - Shirt Front and Fork

so much    takes root -
 that's the game
   beneath the surface
           sits the truth:
all that lays atop
      scrubs up nicely :D

when shadows have shadows    we're screwed
   pearly whites with their glint
 oh so shiny 
            and munchy
                and crunchy

    don't get macerated 

          contrivance is a place setting;
    intention digging deep
       sits you down, watches your moves -
   you're scrutinised 
do not let your teeth pop out
           as soup could spoil your shirt
   without the correct tools for the job 

     diners stay seated;
artists, you're up - squint your eyes
for now we have a pallette 
     shades of grey!
 a brush: perfect for any hand 

        know this little nugget:
     many paint their world 
  some paint themselves
    some paint over themselves

        whilst poets try to keep their mouths shut 
     but their hands are tied to the pen

 most know:
a shirt front and a fork are out of place on the wall
    and whistling inside summons the devil

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