[Mr. J]

I map out every aspect & detail down to the shadows & scars
putting my every judgement on this piece breaking gavels apart...
scramble in dark, encased by the necessary evils ample in heart
tragedy & happiness stirred into the pot, this is the gamble of art
a coin with both sides visible in one glance, stylized in bold text
my ode blessed, guaranteed the future was bright for old heads
I blend age into beauty's skin, bring tears to eyes of fallen men
darken the eyes showing where she's been, give fruit & call it sin
abolish them, I make her hair white, glistenin' with the God within
down to the arthritis in her hands and the skin lightly covering her
in other words...once beauty is found can it ever be lost?
from Mother Earth, to the skies as blue as her eyes, never have I thought...
whether or not life was an example of what you could represent
or to encode your ideals into a picture whose message you never meant...
you never writ, leave it to the weak minded to look on blinded
to look on crisis in a point of view that's clearly been divided
from old age to youth, from the heart that won't break or bruise
when faced with adversity in times which today should enrage the troops
arrange a group...cause this pain to make them go to the range & shoot
from the ash that coated her fingers to the scars that marked her cheek
a phobia of silent visitors in the middle of the night made it hard to sleep
hard to breathe, she coughed & wheezed over smoke non-existent
she'd throw fits, so her knuckles bled whenever it got persistent...
with a head held high, a fist held tight & never undergone assistance
non-descriptive, but under the right eye the picture is well painted
the message alone should be held sacred, hold merit & swell praises
I mean really "swell" praises, even with the mask on I can smell greatness
I put a certain glee into her grin as I add a little character to the face
take a step or two back, & at this distance I can really stare & debate
slowly bringing out the happiness felt as I become aware of the state...
aware of the country & our barren debates underneath stairway escapes
how nothing is done when threatened to the point nerves tear & they break
nah, it's sheltered away, another story for another day, beware of today...
drawing our oppressor from day one into the position we were cradled in
putting inspiration behind actions as she had become the well known fatalist
her arm swung back grasping onto a bloodied weapon in the shape of a rock
I etched in my final words with a certain charisma & confidence embracing my thoughts
& as I stepped away from my canvas the words read "Graffiti is Beautiful; like a brick in the face of a cop"