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Each Friday, I’ve decided to post a poem. I’ve always liked poetry, if I could find a better way not to make a living than a painter; I think I would have decided on being a poet.  I went through a phase of pasting poems on the back of each of my paintings, but ran out of glue. The willingness to stick. Maybe some paintings require an accompanying poem?  Others are more subtle. Just like people I guess


He sits in the other room writing
Something that no one will read.

A child cries somewhere
Partly from neglect, part hunger.

He does not care
He has reserved the right to offend

And uses it with ease
There is no conscience in creativity.

Paintings are here by the way..This line is not part of the poem, unless you feel it needs to be.

Enjoy. (This word definitely not part)

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