Vincent

Genius unrecognized then leveraged for personal gain by those for whom it is made fashionable.

Vincent

July 29, 1890

Colored daubs and swatches
crave artist’s practiced hand.
Justice, nearly blind, yet watches,
unwrought art upon a stand.

Regard the brushes in a row,
the palettes and the sponges.
Genius maimed by status quo,
vain a hope that fate expunges.

Guttered myriad lifelong dreams,
in desperate ruination.
Fading now the piteous screams
of self-inflicted termination.

Time Passes

Abruptly then adoring praise,
contrived their sudden expertise.
Rude cabal who would appraise,
byzantine their guileful sleaze.

Each masterpiece a servant
of craven yearn and greed.
Bang the gavel, swift and fervent;
sate purveyors’ inveterate need.

Justice now is truly blind;
vanished those She would impute.
His final piece is left unsigned;
and undisclosed, for now She’s mute.

Reviews

[Great Aunt Astri]

To tell you the truth I had to read this several times before I 'got' it. The language is unusual, but definitely poetic. The poem is well done, and the message sad, but so true! Nicely done.

[GwenLark]

Beautiful use of words. It's fantastic!