In a Different Life I’d Paint the Streets

In a different life I’d paint the streets
By night, a stealthy lord.
An artist loner dreamer type,
Allegiance shown in words.



On business walls and reader boards
On windows and on signage.
I’d Banksy this and Fairey that
Along my pilgrimage.



Art speaks
the words
I cannot



Graffiti my communiqué
Spray paint can my sword
The devil in the detailed swirls,
the portrait my reward



No duty to the Company
I tag all monuments
Heartbeat rise I run, escape,
And hold my quickened breath



Art screams
when words
are not



Hard and fast, my thumb down-pressed
The stencil folded waiting
The dizzy lights take the last right
in darkness dim night fading



I am the night, the concrete cracks
Dodge cars like trees in forests
Their roots like sewer system chains
Connecting life below us



Art sings
where spoken
words aren’t



IMG_2374I sit atop the Gas Works lot
Proclaiming this my country
The sunrise sings a dirge-full lull
As deeds of night die slowly



I would not risk a politic
Pursue my pious rantings
Art itself is worship, while
my heart’s a Rembrandt folded



Art knows
when silence
must be



When God alone is listening
When seasons turn to years
When all seems lost and I’m no help
When my only weapon is tears



Unroll the scroll, my dignity
Apply paste uniformly
“Speak not” it screams in irony
Reflecting lyrics boldly



Art makes



“Be still” my final work applied
My art voice may seem mild
But the world of ice was set ablaze
By one small holy child



Who stepped to earth proclaiming peace
Skies canvas dashed with stars
On one lone wall they etched his name
The word to end all wars






Stephanie Platter has not always fancied herself a poet. She has only painted one piece, the bird shown here,unnamed which she named Victoria. She has considered, all too often, a change of occupation to midnight mark maker. Truth.

For less poetic but no less honest film reviews:

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