Painting --

Painting --
                   With a brush too large
And colors of an unrealistic tone.
First cautiously, and spread too thin
Neglected flesh pulled taught across the bone.
Now caked upon too forcefully -
No subtlety or grace, no even strokes
Or detailing, no sign the hands
Can faithfully produce - truly evoke
The mind's intention -
                                       The beauty
Echoed stays pristine upon the peaks
And all struggles to climb or try
To carve its depth gouge out all mystique.
The color's plastered, slathered on:
Revival now would only suffocate
The dream as it drifts further down
Away and washes out.
                                       To dissipate
This mockery of masterwork,
To be released from it, it must be plowed
Through.
                 The worst of all of it
Is when you signature your name as if you're proud.

Written April 17-24, 2012.