Loud Paintings

Rough draft

Loud Paintings

Swirling and slicing through the white it builds

And entangles senses in its trap of colors and textures.

The feel of it grows until it deafens and kills

Nagging thoughts, logic and defeats the oppressors.

 

It whirls your senses in and each stroke fills

Your eyes and ears until it deafens as it builds

And you fall under the crash of a wave of skills

The painter has learned to weild

 

You fall into the cacophony of textures

That deafen the sound of oppressors

With each stroke that gestures

And loses your logic in the mixture

 

Blues and yellows fight to form a scene

Messy and imprecise but precise in that

Wildness that calls from canvas to soul

That lifts and drags and contradicts

 

It catches your eye and sticks to your bones

It carries you away even as your feet hold still.

Swirling around your like a tornado that makes you feel less alone.

You can’t make your emotions come to a heel

 

It builds around you and cuts you off

From the world around you as it connects

You to the world it has built. Each stroke

Swirls you up as it rushes through you

 

Until all you see, all you hear

Is the smears of paint that texture and hue

The world you have fallen into. 

The End

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