#96 Paint

As Is What Was is a collection of poems created with no thought at all. None. There is no control over grammar, sound, rhythm, idea, or anything really. Why? I thought it would be fun. Is it insane? Absolutely.


It did occur

In the yellow pages

And in the novels left on the bedside tables of abandoned homes in the countryside

That the most desperate of the antagonists

Were inherently criminal

Their actions warranted the yellowing of teeth and nails and skin

In the cluttered cells where the only known shade of paint

Is the desperation for sunlitght

As the more artsy of the lot called it

To others it was the deprivation of growth

Half empty half full I suppose

I revise my statement

It wasn’tt a matter of the more artistic inclined

It was who walked the line of belief

Not the zealous stuff

The more substantial kind

Where there is evidence of another side

A realm

A way forward

Except the system blocks bans corrupts

Far more than imaginable

The difference between




Is a matter of one letter

2 thoughts on “#96 Paint

  1. Tarun says:

    Well put !! The sense of desperation ! Are we all prisoners of the system or are we all poisoned by it so much that we are immune to its effects.

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