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  • by KiMiYA

Broken Easel

Broken Easel,

Bay Bridge collapsed,

Hey fishers of men

 What kind of bait ‘ya using?

Paintbrush in hand,

everything is disguised as a side hustle,

but you can still spit instead of swallow.


“A lien is only a state of mind.”

But which state do you call home?

Pro-Choice. Rejoice.

Free Will ...take the Red Pill.

I choose to live in a state of grace;

taxes are high

but the views are cheap.


The bridge to there is a Golden Gate

But I didn’t bother to patent the paint

because

crossing over ain’t for the faint.

Opened or closed will you wonder across?


Throughout history,

when an Adam names an animal,

a bomb goes off.

What kind of furniture are you carving out with your sword?

Can your wind-whispering make a footstool as crafty as the heavy cavalry?

Or do you freeze like the foot soldiers on the other side of the conjured portal?


Is your helmet military grade or does it come with an architect’s degree?

What if what you paint and what you write,

from that broken easel,

can be wood chipped kindling

dipped in blood soaked fuel

and you choose to sing a different story with a whole new tool?


Owning the vernacular is like owning the roads you've painted

and building an irrigation system in a desert.

I’ve been there too...

This ain’t no Saving Private Ryan politics. 

Life and death are in the power of your parable.

Paint it out in the art of your roar.

That is what broken easels are for.


propped up

poured out

spilt

splashed

and spent.


That’s what broken easels are for.



Forgiveness For the Friend who Borrowed and Broke My Easel.



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