Some People

Some People

777.1Some People

Some people ask me whether I know

What I’m going to make before I go

Along with the pencil, pen, or marker

I tell them I don’t, I am darker

They ask me what I mean by this shade

I tell them I am what I made

Then they quizzically look confounded

That I could imagine myself grounded

Some people ask me why I don’t take classes

For art so that it could ‘improve’ for the masses

I tell them that instruction would ruin

What’s in my heart and what is brewing

They are stunned at my stubborn arrogance

Of picking up design so to chance a lance

A lot has come into my mind

To express and break free of the grind

What is art, but a series of shapes?

What is music, but a series of notes?

Yet each shape and note can evoke

The strongest emotions, the yolk

Yes, the core of what’s happening inside

The master cracks at the thought of the ride

Like Beethoven’s Ninth, so strong and forthcoming

Its got us shaking and staying, not running

We listen to those eight well-plucked strings

And realize how much is said as it rings

Some people can understand all of this

And come to a conclusion that art is bliss

If we had it not, we would miss

An extraordinary master or masteress

Almost at their breaking point or wits

But one could never tell…it’s complexity twists!


About bognetta

Love has been so much more powerful than other people's control. I think it's all love, but sometimes it doesn't feel like love. That is because so many people are defensive, protective, and do not care to trust in that four letter!
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