Night from night remade
with the strangest contemplation
like Gogh's fantasy of sorts... unsorted
hapless, on an empty linen bed
laid, bound in Brixton's *******
Not like the whistler's queen
nor Mona... more unsettling
maybe a strumpet's retreat
Too brisk were strokes in anguish
and forceful a brush, one and another
with all manner of emulsion
Yes? Then too... a little k-y
Art is always made and paid for
The artist is prized
John Myatt's a Masterpiece
It fetched him a sterling glut

Mannequin men murals
Stationed on a crazy catwalk
with their mundane masks
and bloodlust eyes
Such was the intensity
In the silence of night
Tiny drums crescendo
with stubborn teflon skin
As stars tossed from hell
Crazy cats on a catwalk
Meow Meow Meow
Moving mannequin men

That sunset for George Floyd came so soon
was indeed another heartbreaking cheat
But what's worst for us: another blue moon
shone again so bright on Ebony Street

A brick was laid in the wall of pity
while the darkness of the nights are sombre
Isn't it for poor George's adversity
That the yellow-hat men had not ponder

Now cities aglow for George Floyd's fall
As knives clatter and windows shatter
Yet still this Curious wall stands tall
to show us all: black lives don't matter

In these perilous times I'm forced to think
Would it be the same if Floyd was pink?