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Jonathan Pizarro Sep 2011
Words and letters are written on walls
Some as vandalization others as messages
Words and letters are written on walls

Words and sentences are written on billboards
Some serve as advertising others to arouse awareness
Words and sentences are written on billboards

Words and paragraphs are written on my brain
Some serve as inspiration others to support guidance
Words and paragraphs are written on my brain

Words are the weapons I use in a society that controls my image
Words are the only thing that can divide me from being ghetto or educated
My words are the only thing that I can vouch for like my *****
My words are the root of the intelligence that propels this sentence
Letters in my words stand close to each other eager to make a statement
If I do not show my words, my letters of cheerfulness begin to fade away

Sentences are the compound of the mind that begs to be understood
Sentences are made up of a tyranny chained down by a trendsetters mood
My sentences contain verbs, nouns, adjectives and subjects that explain a lost purpose
My sentences define the meaning of an ironical imagery that leads me to dream
Sentences paint a picture that any blind character can see
If I do not paint my sentences how will I ever show my brains art gallery

Picasso used the paint brush to express his moods and feelings on a canvas
Shakespeare and Allan Poe used ink to utter their thoughts on a sheet of paper
Somewhere in my mind the collision of words and paint occurred
Where I fused the essence of writing with the masterfulness of painting
My words and sentences have met a significant other called paint
Paint and words are my new best friend

Paint and brushes are splattered and used upon walls
Some are called vandalization while they represent artistic skills
Paint and brushes are splattered and used upon walls

Paint and words are written on subways
So the eyes of the young and old can see the traveling message
Paint and words are written on subways

Paint and words smack up at my face
So that the world sees who conveys this message
Paint and words smack up at my face

Paint gives visual to what words cannot picture
My Paint serves as a method of expressing the mind’s tears and smiles
My Paint becomes a tour guide through the loops of divine wonders
Paint is just a stepping stone to the magnificent path of beauty

A brush is just a brush depending on who holds it
A brush is like the keyboard I constantly battle with to unleash my mind
A brush can combine negativity and positivity and make peace
A brush unites celibate beliefs with those whom are perverse
Words and sentences along with paint and brushes help explain my motive

Jonathan Pizarro
Lost Cause © 2011
April 17th, 2011
Hyperbole escorted ushered down aisle,
no critic within google x bajillion mile
(give or take a million) approximates
limitless potential regarding self said
epithet vile expletive spewing wicked

vituperation, vilification, vexation,
vandalization, undervaluation, uglification,
transmogrification, terrorization, suffocation,
stultification, strangulation, recrimination...
custom made swiftly tailored harried style

unbounded poetic license curtly vile
distilling, kickstarting, whipping...
hewed, patented, trademarked... versatile
methodologies, modalities to compile
masochistic punishment exhibiting agile

proactive innovations linkedin to avast
amalgamation, where synonyms connote
inflicting physical/ verbal self harm while
alone within emotional wilderness I'll
venture to add non active means to torture

including versus being passively servile,
and case in point with yours truly exile
isolate, entombed, locked, sequestered...
in bedroom of boyhood cherished domicile,
no matter whether violent or tame recourse

good n plenti abominations populate fertile
two clenched fist sized gray matter awash
where rage against our thwarted ambitions
dreams, goals, joys, motives, most pregnant trial
birthing most brutish, horrific, nasty... nemesis.

Please excuse this wurst wordy wayward bard
cuz here cometh the tricked out guard
(oh my...dog he attired just like me)
as everyone else within this isolationist ward.

— The End —