Art feeds on our oxygen
and breathes heavily on our necks…
Art snores and won’t let us sleep.
Art can give me three more verses.
…Art infiltrates the cracks in our skin
and whispers secrets we don’t want to hear.
Art disfigures time,
drags memories like chains on a glass floor.
Art demands sacrifice
and we offer silence as an altar.









I love this!
Everything single line
Thank you, my dear.
This is spot on. Your passion about art is as vivid as one could reveal. Your a true artist Paulo.
Art hurts, art is a nail in a guilty as hell criminal’s hand.
If Art was a dude, we’d be kicking his ass for taking up so much of our time!
yet, it’s a drug, and we are addicted.
You summed it up brilliantly. Well writ.
Art hurts, art is a nail in a guilty as hell criminal’s hand.
Brava, poet.
This is brilliant in its truth.
Art hurts, art is a nail in a guilty as hell criminal’s hand.
As my esteemed fellow poet it, she’s the habit sitting on our backs, but she’s also the key that sets us free.
Poets will always be prisoners.
Eternally caught red-handed.
Powerfully penned, PAR. Excellent write my friend, you always bring the thunder. Appreciate you.
Damian
Thanks, my dear friend. Once, a friend said to me: “Paulo, you are like the sound of thunder at the bottom of the deepest sea.” I’ll do my best to keep thundering.