Paintings

I hear if you throw paint on dry fabric,

The masses will call it beautiful.

Maybe if I threw you against these walls,

Someone will dare say the same.

Someone, who dare defies the skeptics

Whom close their eyes to our faultless display

And let their mouths label us with words

Ill-mannered.

Words and clothing only cover true intent

For they know it's something rarely seen before

We are made to be shown to the world

And transform their minds with our vision.

They will see it in our eyes

The artistry of our motions

The Pollack nature of our sweat

The colors that form as we blend

Together, the final stroke

Preserved in the mind

Long after the act is done.And maybe someone will dare call it art.