Little Brushstrokesthere are few places I would rather be than sitting, alone, in my yellow-lit basementwith a paintbrush in my hand, taking deep breaths and little brushstrokes, letting the world dissolve around me like the helium inside a balloonuntil it floats to the ground-catches in an elm treehead hung dejectedly in a circular slumpsometimes when I'm all aloneI put on a green kimono so I can pretend I am a princesshair up, but eyes very very greenbut still the paintbrush goes red, usuallybecause I like the way the color looksspread across a fresh white canvasyou don't need a bulletalthough for all we know there might have
RhapsodySo.From across the subwayYou saw me sittingFull of a beautiful worldEyes closed to a gray realityYou got upSat beside meTrying to catch some of the songIt was one of those songs that goes on for foreverFading out- and then rising to a staggering climax of noiseA song that had been heard by millions of earsBut by only a few mindsIt was the type of song whichInspired you if you let itAnd so you leaned in almost too closeDesperate to make the hauntingly familiar melodyYour own piece of heaven
They TriedThey tried to make me write a love songBut my heart had never learned to singNever walked through daisy fields And picked off heartbreaks with white petalsI couldn’t lie for love or hate or tearsNor could I fall in love for songwrite’s sakeAnd so my pen and paper sat alone in empty songUntil such time when love would find me dear
street artists in new yorkone woman saw that I was taking pictures and stepped desperately in front of her table. the paintings she had on display were of poor technical quality, but reflected within their bold colors a sense of heart and effort. the artist stared at me wildly. in very broken english she squeaked "no picture! you can buy painting, but take no picture!" her accent was interesting; there was a hint of something eastern european- czech, perhaps?- and it matched perfectly her frizzy blonde hair and strangely opaque blue eyes. regarding her request, it was already too late- the shutter speed and my trigger finger are like lightning- but I gave her a comfor
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