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Voices
Listen to them chatting away in the room, voices spitting colors on the wall and painting a true story about them all.
Everyone has a palette arranged with different colors in a unique manner and they each occupy a space in front of the wall penetrating the lines and rubbing down the edges. Each one has a story to tell and it could not be told in words but in paint and peculiar line.
The artist is shouting on the wall and the red paint is running down the ceiling creating a woeful brawl; the mob is coming down the street, with sticks , stones, machete and guns and canine dogs to persecute the queer men playing in the sand; no one knew what it was all about until the paint start to drip about and the color stained the ground and crowd start to gather around.
He swings the brush on the other side and the tree fell down across the wall and the men escaped with the wind, and mob gather around in the middle of the street and scream and shout and rub their body in the dirt and lament over the queer men escape
It was all there in the painting and it reduces his anxiety and settle the drama within, so the ring leader and his dog walked away and gaze at the distance before him and the paint drips from the wall to tell the story about the queer men brawl.
I stood there watching them painting away absorbing what each of them had to say, something interesting caught my attention and that was the voice of a living man, the paint splashed out on the wall and there was no direct meaning in it, I had to search hard and long to find it.
There was a little mount at the tip and a giant rock stood boldly next to it, a bird stood bravely on the rock looking at the clouds above with its beak pointing to the sun and the paint runs like lava from the rock.
The voices are shouting on the wall, the stories are clear and they attract thousands of people far and near, the painter couldn’t tell it in words, the color makes the story enlighten the world.
I want you to come and join me over here to listen to a story without words. The painting expresses the beauty of life and love wrapped up in paradise ; if the color had gone out of the paint, it would drive the whole world insane.
I observed the final painting on the wall and it accentuate a passionate song, they were dancing in heels and the shaded color of the magnificent ballerina standing upright on their toes created a figurative storm among the unconventional audience and the voices breath paint in front of them and create a bright colored carpet in the middle of the stage.
Voices are spilling colors on the stage, voices are singing hope and praise; voices are everywhere keep coloring them with your paint and I will the tales about them
Copyright ©
Christine Phillips
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