Johnny , by Vera Espiritu
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He drew a self portrait
and on the paper
he shaded indiscernible shapes
that looked like sounds
with a graphite beat
What is that I asked
what is what
those things, the blobs
the blobs are me
How could it be?
He was just an amorphous figure
floating through time
floating through life
And maybe, maybe
he knew himself and
possibly the world,
better than any of us
Because in the end
there are no portraits
and we are all a blur
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Posted: 2013-05-19 09:24:12 UTC |
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2013-05-21 09:34:55 | George Chow |
must be the contemporary art :) |
2013-06-22 07:23:29 | George Chow |
https://www.facebook.com/#!/photo.php?fbid=346196825928&set=a.346196820928.152997.825590928&type=3&theater |