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mv-blakePoems
New words in old styles Tracked on a canvas of brick By a precocious kid Sneaking on the lines; The little ***** My morning art show Laid out in illiterate words, Scribbled by artists Who failed art at school, Then shat on by birds. An exhibition of names Written worryingly wrong, Evident to the system That failed before they Even joined the throng. We pause at one piece Daubed in indelible paint, White streaked on black, A chaotic sprawl of letters, **** al saintz". I've been there before; A nice school I thought, Catholic of course; I doubt the child gave The saints a spare thought. And what about Al? Does he care at all? Does he pause here, On his way to work, And dream their downfall. It drives me up the wall To see tracks filled with art, But are they to blame? We let them loose And they play their part.
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Mar 23, 2015
Mar 23, 2015 at 3:35 PM UTC
Graffiti On The Rails
New words in old styles Tracked on a canvas of brick By a precocious kid Sneaking on the lines; The little ***** My morning art show Laid out in illiterate words, Scribbled by artists Who failed art at school, Then shat on by birds. An exhibition of names Written worryingly wrong, Evident to the system That failed before they Even joined the throng. We pause at one piece Daubed in indelible paint, White streaked on black, A chaotic sprawl of letters, **** al saintz". I've been there before; A nice school I thought, Catholic of course; I doubt the child gave The saints a spare thought. And what about Al? Does he care at all? Does he pause here, On his way to work, And dream their downfall. It drives me up the wall To see tracks filled with art, But are they to blame? We let them loose And they play their part.
#poem#children#crime#graffiti
mv-blake
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mv-blake
Mar 23, 2015
Mar 23, 2015 at 3:35 PM UTC
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