Saturday, May 23, 2009

Synesthesia (posted to Facebook on 5/18/08)

if insanely beautiful were a color,
i know you'd consume it,
enjoying every bite...

but i can't make beautiful exactly.
and the thought makes my own stomach bitter.

so i'm still here:
forever listening to
the ambiguous sound
my emotions make
when splashed on a canvas

smelling of a three
o' clock morning
(yes, i'm still Awake
fervently contemplating
To Be or Not To Be).

i think i'd rather Be.
if my answer is Wrong,
then how will my fingers
still finish this work
you will soon quickly gobble
with your bright eyes?

i know i'm right
for once...i feel it
coursing through my hands
as i hear the concerto
the hues make on the canvas,
the easel trembling
and booming like a timpani.

this is my solo,
my fantasia of sight,
and it will look
as if Vivaldi
and Michelangelo themselves
blessed it with their talents.

the colors crescendo
as they blend (blues with greens,
reds with purples...),
now new and exotic
ambrosia to your vision.

the sonata of color
is finally complete.
(i taste success from a distance).
i find my work is sanely attractive,
and that is good enough.

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