Scream-the-tension-surfaced

tension surfaced

the one thing about every famous personage of the past
was they were wealthy

every artist
painter ocular tension
writer …

born with silver spoons
and the height of their creation
only so far

as the depths
that society deemed they fell

the public light one of notoriety
of gossip
did you SEE what so and so painted?
his mother must be mortified
did you see what he wrote?
only a base newspaper will employ him now

it’s not what you do
it’s who you are
but not even that
it’s where your family stands

the street artist nothing more than a tool
no wealthy man ever stepped on a stage

the considered
the deemed
intellectual prowess equated with birth
we have been raised to believe differently
but i begin to wonder

as i look at the painting sold for 200 million
what is supposed to depict the common man
painted by a spoiled brat who had daddy buying his paints

i think about whores and the wealthy

copycats
how there are no cinderella stories here

not this world
not in the tune’s drip of fog from a flower
the least of which i hold steady;

cupped drop

i bought my own paints
and lived on freetos that week
the shine and debated to buy

one to thin out the others
make the paint go FARTHER
so i bought it
it helped the cost ………. but my painting will never be valued by any

heck
hardly valued by me
and i think about ceilings, you know?

like maybe those ABOVE the ceiling just spread the lies
because it makes them laugh

it makes them laugh to see us try
while they shake hands with those
those selling the paints

play golf
with those selling the fritos

the ambition to create
black coffee and screams from the neighbors nextdoor
fighting over money
fighting over cheating
fighting over fighting

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