I found a little picture once
On my way to work
It caught my eye and hooked my lip
and evoked a little smirk
This colourful little doodle
Struck me as profound
Amongst the hustle-bustle crowds,
Dreary sights and sounds
The entire world trudged along
With nothing new to say
But this little bit of colour
Stood out amongst the grey
There’s an artist that I came to know
Who is wonderfully inclined
To leave scraps of magic in the world
Just for us to find
Love paints graffiti on butterflies,
With neon sighs and gilded lies;
It overflows what once sufficed,
Turning sweet and nice to sugared spice.
It hangs bright lanterns on the breeze,
Carves secret hearts on trunks of trees;
Holding hands, a kiss, a hug just right,
Soon stretches longing far beyond delight.
Now every kiss leaves colors smeared
On fragile wings too richly veneered;
For love that adorns with wild excess
May leave love lost, to more or less.
Love paints
graffiti on butterflies
leaves, more or less,
to excess -
beyond the want,
left to be filled
sometime.
I am floating on a lily pad
surrounded by peaceful waters,
the sun called my name
and as I look up
I see a transformation
of human souls,
a graffiti of butterflies
crowning me
with color, love,
and beauty
Delicate creatures from heaven,
making flowers smile and giggle.
Wings lite as tissue paper,
colors coming from God's palette.
Graffiti of Butterflies,
makes the heart love.
Love seeing these little beauties,
as they flutter by.
There once was a lad with a spray,
Who snuck out at the end of the day.
On a house near the park
He scrawled in the dark,
the words “Ur gay” for Vinnie to bark
These spray-can scrawls on public walls
Express my psychic rage with rude intent.
My tags provoke a thoughtful pause
In much the same way Banksy does,
With cold irony and unrepentant guile.
My way of bombing bubble style
Might even tease a tourist’s smile.
But my darker themes paint silent screams:
Is it public?
Is it street?
Is it urban?
Is it commercial?
And then let’s consider my masterwork mural,
A brutally honest and life-like self-portrait,
A glimpse of me in all my squalid bohemian splendor,
Nothing but pavement crack and tenement dysfunction.
Too hard-edge for primetime, you say?
Well, I didn’t get a face like this
By staying out of trouble.
So there!
Boxcar graffiti travels from town to town
It's the eye candy of someone handy, sown
In the sunshine or the rain
It travels on on the train
To all passersby it is known
Nothing short of a museum display
Nothing short of a Fairey
The colors dance
The colors romance
For all who have come out today
We've see your art in different ways
I heeded the message that it portrays
Not to be out done
It's etched for everyone
I've got my lawn chair out to save my place
When I hear that whistle blow
I look outside my window
There for me to see
The glamorous artistry
It's time to start the show
So when it comes into view
It is time to imbue
Winter, Spring, Summer or Fall
Palate, paint pen or aerosol
A boxcar reserved for me and you
Then the eerie sound sight
Of a train whistle at night
Gets my mind rolling
Memories start patrolling
I'll live forever in my minds flight
hurled hoagie explodes
ICE’s meaty Molotiv —>
Bansky’s graffiti
Back in the day
That is what people often say
Graffiti create
Observation on subway car rides
Display surrounding one’s creativity
Something to do activity
Inside and out of subway cars
Up close and personal presentation views
Some commuters considered it garbage in waste
Art credit haste
Graffiti to inspire
Young minds never tire
Spray paint art on steel
The look without using canvas for real
Appeal attraction on commuter minds to capture
Graffiti through the years
To some commuters it spells fear
It became point to point preserver
A young life wants to be graffiti art known
This was their thought in having it shown
You won’t find in an Art Museum
It’s just subway cars contribute enthusiasm
Graffiti is what it says and art is what comes out
Graffiti everywhere in the morse
The share with care
Graffiti from the heart
Art start
little boys playing in the clay road
picking up turtles that fly in the wind
run, run away from the scary old widowers
or you might never be a boy again!
we can only be boys for a little longer
so let’s take our cheer and carry it on
as the great warrior Atreus did
when he gave his life for victory
we’re in Rome, with Kalsus and Andeus
and all of our friends from the east and the west
we are here, with this one chance to say
“we are here, we cheer, to hoping the words here last”
for we are the last of our kind to be here
and we don’t know what comes after
but we don’t give in to fear
and we hope to give you laughter
forever and ever
we are the sons of a generation
that will never be seen again
so laugh until the bitter end
hold the name of the Empire
in the hearts of all who hear
and remember, always remember!
Nothing comes from nothing!
So we will never die!
The light prismatic swaying. Shall you watch, yielding your will?
May 4, 2024.
The Light, through the veil, paints secrets.
The crossroads of constellations twisting into new patterns.
In reverence, the Moon dances, coaxing the Sun, your loyal companion.
Your lies bloom, Enchantress... watch!
A celestial dancer,
pirouettes through the prismatic tapestries.
It's luminescent waltz, illuminating secrets whispered at the crossroads of reality...
...the fabric of time...
...twisting the alchemy of existence.
The
universe
bends.
The light dances to cosmic symphony. Command enchantress of photons.
Watch : The universe bends.
A celestial dancer - the light, pirouettes through the
veil of existence, and with each gesture
You,the conjurer,bend the
fabric of time, twisting fate into
new patterns.
Illuminating secrets
whispered by the ancient stars - the light, awaits
your whispered decree.
Will you summon dawn’s blush or
veil the world in twilight?
So command - and watch the
universe yielding to your will.
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