Abstract Artist

a dedication to Kumasi Mack--The Abstract Poet

 

 

I call it motion / they call it abstract

 

I call it feelings / they say it looks like a heart attack

 

I say the colors are like the wind on a hot summer day

I say the gay rainbow flies / I say... Sailor, Hey!

 

Movie screenings / temporary tattoos

The work of an artist will do / What? / Only if they lived before you?

 

Pistachios / Mangos

Yellow / Pink / Orange / Purple

You know I dream in Technicolor

You know when you dream of me there is little color / no obstacles

a barrier / reef

and we’re back to a reality in a colored land

 

Give me your hand

African myths / a gazing globe of peacock feathers / watermelon lingerie

said to cure what ails you / and help you sleep

 

Deep

 

They call us lewd / I call them funny

They call her nude / I call her lovely

 

They call me / I don’t call back

Today might be the last day / I’ll have a Big Mac attack

 

I’m down with the hoops / not with the studs

A painting that doesn’t encourage growth is simply mud

 

I call it the Ripple Effect / they call it football

Sometimes

He falls / He says, “We can’t fly” / I say, “Gimme your hand”

 

You might call it metamorphosis / I say

the caterpillar can’t eat if the butterfly don’t know where to land

 

We call our language metaphors / a fictional version of facts

He calls me Moonshine / I call him Abstract

Reviews

[...]

I like your writing style; it reminds me of Allen Ginsberg's style; like life, and confusion, and sense of it all. Cool stuff.

[Robin]

and I call you Cool-ette