The Lost Art

There once was a man who painted billboards
Across the western sky, to catch our eye.
He hung from this framework by a thread
Freezing time for those who had no time, but to pass on by.

His artistry was a tapestry of advertising
Dollars made and wasted again.
And all the people passing by said,
“Please don’t fall, don’t fall” or “Fall! Fall and just die.”

He lived on top of a fire escape
Above the clouds of laundry hung below
And occupied alone, an apartment In building,
In a city that brushed across the evening
Touched the moon and changed the tide.

The people blindly rushed beneath
The artist as he painted dreams of beauty
The people thought they knew, and the urban jungle grew
Beneath the fullness of the moon, caught the tide
And swept away every bit, every bit of yesterday.

Then the morning shot a bullet through
The shroud of night and swiftly threw
The world into the coming day.
Where dreams are rearranged,
Humanity is changed, and the moments
That we knew are, none of them, the same.

The artist woke to work his trade
Bringing life to all he’d imagined.
He grabbed acrylics and a ladder
And a harness and went on his way.
He drove his pickup down town
To a billboard resting against the sky,
But there was a man gluing papers
Of pictures on top of his art.

He rolled up and down, up and down,
Covering dreams that were dreamt.
He rolled up and down, up and down,
Covering dreams imagined.

And he said, “We don’t need you, we don’t need you anymore.”
And he said, “Your art is extinct, your art is lost for good.”

© Jeremiah Dowling 2012 

About Jeremiah Dowling

I write poetry and take crazy pictures in an Orange Chair all over the United States while reading amazing books.

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