Work Of Art
Life is a ‘work of art”, and humanity is the biggest part.
We draw and paint masterpieces, and write the
Histories of each generation.
Just to show that we’ve been here
Because in our lives we live in fear.
Paintings, pictures, movies and words
With all this knowledge we still don’t learn.
For we create our heavens, and we create our hells
Look around you and you can tell.
Wars, hunger, poverty and hate
We better stop before it’s too late.
We’re already destroying all that nature is giving
“is this what we call living? ”
(if you want to see the “work of art” of humanity
Then take a white canvas and paint
“A large black dot”.
For that is humanity destroying the clean beauty
That the lord has given us.)
This canvas a work of art? Who is to say?
Can you express this life in a better way!
“Work of art” it is anything and everything that
Man puts in their minds, and it becomes
A part of the times.
For “perception becomes your reality”
And this is the work of art that I see.
poem by Louis Rams
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Related quotes
Four Letter 'Work' Song
Work me up, work me out, work me flip side down.
Work me here, work me there, work me with renown.
Work me hot, work me greedy,
work me through and through.
Work me to the very marrow,
work me just like I'd work you.
Work me proud, work me late,
work me do not hesitate.
Won't you let me work for you?
Work me til I'm black and blue.
Work me steady, work me needy, work me to a lather.
Work me til my backbone breaks, and the buzzards gather.
Work me in, work me under, work me til I bleed,
Work me over red hot coals, work me like a boss in need.
Work me nasty, work me silly, work me through the clover.
Up down, 'n' in between, into a slipknot sweet Jehovah.
Work me, work me, go ahead.
Work me, work me, til I'm dead.
Buddy Bee Anthony
poem by Buddy Bee Anthony
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Energy in Tune
The mind and heart work together
To create the words of our lives
Energy we feel in the air
Living in synchronicity
With the energies around
To create the words of our lives
One day you wake up and your mind is blank
The energy has faded
And the feeling has disappeared
When the energies stop coming to you
and stop working in tune with your mind
But your mind and heart work together
can create the energy thats gone
when you've been exercising them
your mind and heart work together
To create this natural music
but when you stop the song thats inside
and start using templates
you begin to paint by number
(written in STUDY HALL on 8-31-06)
poem by Electric Tripp
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Lovingly Do The Work
Work is
Life...
Life is work...
Any work is not
Wrong...
Without work is
Worng...
Human every budy works
Wny way too work...s
Work is making you...
Work is given good life
For you...and your's...
So...
Understand too work
Earn money too work...
Live life with your work...
Love too work...
Learn to do the work...
Lovingely do the work...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Payment
A tortuous path of neurons arced a call: ‘Awake! ’
I did; in rising, peering, stretching, bearing,
Pained anticipation saw it all:
Foretold, another filthy day.
I drew the drape: diluvian lay the ground
Beneath a lazy leaden cloud – apissing out
The puddles; irksome on the roof –
The drumming drops of bitter glee
Were hounding out a hapless me –
Reinforcing doubt that I am sound.
I left the house
to go to work
to earn a crust
without a perk
then on to bust
another straining vessel.
Trudging on thro’ mud and clay, I pondered:
‘Why a drought of happy times?
Auspicious climes were
Old and fusty books
Atop a dusty shelf
Inside a morgue-of-a-room,
Somewhere in a long-forgotten library
Down a lane without a way.’
I thought again: ‘And still I pay.’
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
O how I
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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When is a Painting Finished?
I paint.
On my easel
pictures in oil and acrylic grow
like stalagmites in limestone caves.
I think that painting is a magical act
that transforms invisible thoughts
and feelings into visible colors
and forms.
But I never can tell
when is the work finished.
After all it is always possible
to change a line, a hue, or a color
or even the whole composition.
Painters have different opinions
about this.
Some say that when the artist
successfully planted
all the details onto the canvas
the image expresses itself
as a severed autonomous entity,
which frees the painter from
the task of continuing to paint.
From then on the painting gains
an independent inner life of its own.
However, abandoning a work of art
involves a moral decision
ripened by the stiffening tension
between skill, creativity and integrity.
At what point does the polished image
meet the artist’s expectations?
And then, even if it does,
no single image can express
all that an artist wants to show,
and consequently his muses
compel him to carry on with his work
and create more paintings.
Hence the oeuvre of the artist
evolves as a set of different images
of the same single thrust and grind.
Many years ago I was wandering
through the countryside
of southern France in Provence.
Once I stopped to look at the road
where the village met the meadow.
A sturdy artist stood there
in front of his easel
painting the landscape
with skilful brushstrokes
on a well-stretched canvas.
I stared for a while
at the burgeoning picture
and then asked him:
“How do you know
when is the composition complete? ”
He gave me a piercing glance.
“Well”, he said,
“if you take a hammer
and hit me on the head
I know that the painting is finished.”
poem by Paul Hartal
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Lap Of Luxury
I work all day and I work all night 4x
I work all day and I work all night
I work so my wife and kids will have a pleasant life
I work as many jobs as I can
Im proud to work I guess Im just a working man
-who am I to complain
I live in the lap of luxury
I got a car and a big tv thats so fine
I go to the pictures when I can
-the pictures take me to far-away lands
-almost makes me forget who I am
Sometimes at work Ive a fantasy
That Im a man who livesa life of mystery
(but) then the whistle brings me to
I cant forget why Im here, Ive got a job to do
-responsibility- is much more important to a man like me
I work all day and I work all night
I work all day and I work all night - etc. etc.
Guitar solo
I got a job at the factory
But I dont mind cause I know that the job is right for me
I dont complain Im satisfied
And I dont care to rub elbows with the wealthy
Theyve got their problems too, I dont envy them a bit dont ya know
Im doin what I want and it aint so bas
Ive got everything that a man could have
(Im) living in the lap of luxury - living in the lap of luxury
Work all day and I work all night
I work all day and I work all night etc. etc.
song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Canvas
Oh how she loves her canvas,
The stories that it tells.
Oh how she loves to paint her thoughts,
And etch a perfect spell.
Oh how she loves her canvas,
The memories that it holds.
Oh how she loves to trace the lines,
And tell if new or old.
Oh how she loves her canvas,
Her stability in an unstable world.
Oh how she loves to fret away,
At all of her unfurled.
Oh how she loves her canvas,
A standstill of art and truth.
Oh how she loves the feel of it,
To reminisce her youth.
Oh how she loves her canvas,
A long work of her life.
Oh how she loves the twisted colors,
Splashes of red upon white.
Oh how she loves her canvas,
She crafts each inch with care.
She hides her canvas well away,
Though she often earns a stare.
Do not tell of her canvas,
Keep the secret- she insists.
But perhaps some time take a second glance,
For her canvas is her wrist.
poem by Dayna Mortimore
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Work, Sleep, Work, Sleep, Work
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work:
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work.
Oh free me please with gentle ease
From work, sleep, work, sleep, work!
This odium, pounding tedium
Of my work, sleep, work, sleep, work.
Just whisk me off to lands afar
From work, sleep, work, sleep, work -
That grinding train of rhythmic pain
Called ‘Work, sleep, work, sleep, work.’
Poor neural circuits fizzle and pop
In work, sleep, work, sleep, work,
In trying to make some sense of all this
Work, sleep, work, sleep, work.
But Hark! I see a golden gleam -
A saving spirit of hope:
‘You’re fired! ’ He screams. What news to bear,
This wondrous hangman’s rope!
So now I’m free, released from all this
Work, sleep, work, sleep, work -
Eternal peace and rest for me, no
Work, sleep, work, sleep, work.
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Notes For A Tomorrow
i feel very fortunate to be able
to write, and to share my thoughts
and feelings
i also feel a responsibility to write
the truth, not only my truth, but the
truth of all those around me
and so i paint these pictures of life,
some quite beautiful, some harsh and
distressing
we, as a people, and as individuals
are the human race. and what makes
it work is the word we
we are a part of each other, our happiness
and our hopes are dependent on each other
there is no i that is not a part of we!
we have reached a point in time when things
are extremely hard when it's almost impossible
to survive when it would be easy to lose hope
too many wars, too much poverty, too much disease,
too much homelessness, too much despair
if i'm not able to communicate anything else
let it be this each of you, each of us, and all
of life are precious it's time to join hands, and
work together for peace, and for a tomorrow
if we dont, there wont be a tomorrow
every moment we have is a gift a gift that
begs to be shared
in the wake of 9/11, and of the wars let's stand up
stand up and be counted as believers in life, and
in each other
i care about each of you and thank you for your time
poem by Eric Cockrell
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To Be Or Not To Be
To be or not to be,
To learn or not to learn,
To obey or not to obey,
To teach or not to teach,
To work or not to work,
To cook or not to cook,
To write or not to write,
To play or not to play,
To move or not to move,
To pray or not to pray,
To ride or not to ride,
To build or not to build,
To plant or not to plant,
To draw or not to draw,
To eat or not to eat,
To drink or not to drink,
To paint or not to paint,
To sing or not to sing,
To preach or not to preach,
To think or not to think,
To create or not to create,
To dance or not to dance,
And like the muse of love in the land of peace;
But, it is a matter of, to be or not to be.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Out Of Work
8 a.m. Im up and my feet beating on the sidewalk
Down at the unemployment agency, all I get is talk
I check the want ads but there just aint nobody hiring
Whats a man supposed to do when hes down and hes
Out of work
I need a job, Im out of work
Im unemployed, Im out of work
I need a job, Im out of work
I go to pick my girl up
Her name is linda brown
Her dad invites me in
He tells me to sit down
The small talk that were making
Is going pretty smooth
But then he drops a bomb
Son, what dya do ?
Im out of work
I need a job, Im out of work
Im unemployed, Im out of work
I need a job, Im out of work
Hey mr president I know you got your plans
Youre doing all you can now to aid the little man
We got to do our best to whip that inflation down
Maybe you got a job for me just driving you around
Im out of work
These hard times, theyre enough
To make a man lose his mind
Im out of work
Up there you got a job but down here below
Im out of work
I need a job, Im out of work
Im unemployed, Im out of work
I need a job, Im out of work
Im out of work
Im out of work
Im out of work
Im out of work
Im out of work
Im out of work
Im out of work
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Work To Work
Happy too
Work...
Un happy too
work...
Love too
Woork...
With out love too
Work...
Silentely work...
Tenson to work...
Peace too work...
Diperession to work...
Work with work...
Any time do any
Work...
Work is give for
Human...
Relax and releave...
Sad too work...
Woory too work...
Work too work...
Work is wondrfully
Changed your and your's life
Each every day
Don't take un wanted rest
With your's lazey...
Lazy making
Sad... dipression...
Tenson...
Useless thinking...
So...
Work is wonder fully
Chnage to change for your's...
Mind and thinking and your's life...
Woo
Work to work with you
And other's...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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You have to work?
Work work work
Work work work
Work work work
The life clock ticks!
Work work work
Heart beat gives the same rhythm?
You breath
You walk
You eat
You sleep
To the same annoying tune!
If you work
You get that shiny colored paper notes
with the portrait of bygone handsome Presidents!
and if you don't work, fired black & white certificate receive by ordinary mail.
No money,
No Honey?
[Ulcers, rheumatoid arthritis, respiratory headaches and rectal complaints are capitalism's accumulated debt of exhausted human tissue.]-A dog's life(quoted from Sheila Rowbotham's 'Woman's consciousness, Man's World)
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Love As A Work Of Art
A work of art in which far more than just part
of the work, its feeling, can be all
it is composed of is far more than merest art:
it is the love in which all lovers fall.
The 12/30/10 WSJ listed the New Year resolutions of some major cultural figures. Olafur Eliasson, a Danish artist, best known in the U.S. for erecting man-made 'Waterfalls' around New York, said:
One of my goals for the year is to create a work of art that only consists of a feeling. I'm trying to work out how to get at that, how to define it as a work of art. There are obviously many feelings, but the one I'd like to create is the feeling of community. Highly abstract, I know.
I bought this solar-powered airplane, but right now it's all in pieces in a garage. Before I got it, it flew, but I took it apart so I could see if I could also turn it into a work of art. But aesthetics and aerodynamics didn't work out so well with me, and now it won't fly. So if the engineers can help put it back together, my goal is to fly it from Berlin to London this summer.
poem by Gershon Hepner
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Work Hard, Play Harder
Work seems to be mandatory,
For people like me,
Slaving over books at school,
Just to get the grades,
We don’t have much money,
So after school I work,
Cleaning, babysitting, retail,
It’s tiring after awhile,
Homework and coursework,
Two more pains of teenage life,
It seems to me that I,
Work all night and work all day,
In the future for many years to come,
I know I’ll have to work,
Uni work and training,
I’ll need a part time job too,
But then I see, between it all,
I do get a rest and have fun,
I have great times, out with friends,
Addicted to CSI,
So now I work faster,
To get it over with,
Cus my philosophy is,
Work hard now, play harder later.
poem by Cathryn Martin
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All Day
Well Im hiding my eyes from the morning sun
And I keep on working till the work is all done
But a voice in my head keeps ticking away
As the sweats hosed down from yet another day
Well he works hard
And he lives hard
And he breaks his back without nothing to gain
While the boss man sits around and drinks champagne
All day (you work and you work and you work and)
In life, theres just one transition
All day (you work and you work and you work and)
In life, theres just one decision
Well Im peeling the blisters off my working hand
Is that what it takes to make you understand?
That its something you read, not something you meant
To be slaving away without a shred of integrity
He worked hard
And he lived hard
And he broke his back without nothing to say
While the man in control was just laughing away
All day (you work and you work and you work and)
In life, theres just one transition
All day (you work and you work and you work and)
In life, theres just one decision
Was it something you read?
Was it something you meant?
Was it something you said?
Or was it heaven sent?
All day (you work and you work and you work and)
In life, theres just one transition
All day (you work and you work and you work and)
In life, theres just one decision
song performed by by Ministry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The color of the dream
dreams are made of color, according to one own perception
and experience, neither each dream are just a simple one,
nay, it is only a fruit of illusion or a product of hallucination,
but the fact remain, that it is always a part our life
in dream, our imagination creates, the things that we want too,
the impossible becomes a reality to grasp, the satisfaction, that
brings and leads us to achieve the things we dream off, it is
the end where our commitment begins
so real, that each parts of the body move, to concretize, what we
aim for in life, it might be impossible but the minds that initiate,
has made everything making the best of it, possible to exist,
a fulfillment that the body, the soul has come to join in force, to
satisfy the illusion of the mind
in our life, all are just started in dream, the future of our existence,
are pattern in this kind of imagination, a concept, a notion that
comes to being, a creation of God, that until today the fulfillment
has yet to come, when everything will be done in his own purpose
and destiny
we will never be perfected our dream until we give meaning of
what we share, we lend, we take, and live, each of us has to
make our dream, according to what is pleasing in our sight, it
is a call to paint our work for this end product of beauty will brings
us to the creation of the one who give and thought our eyes to
create our own dream ,
our being, is the most perfect ingredients in the color of our dream
for in every drops of stroke of brush, the elements of harmony,
create, the beauty of our existence in this wonderful universe, making
the creation prefect, a fulfillment of the promise of God
dream as you wish, live as you create, paint it with different color,
for only in painting your life will shined, and emulate other to light
the true meaning of the wonder of creation of life
' be an ingredients of color for others to dream '
poem by Antonio Liao
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Lost in the Cycle
Work work work work, work work work work, work work work work
STOP
and
do
nothing
'cause there is nothing to do
even though there is always something to do
but why would you do that?
Stay up
No sleep
Go to sleep
Peace
Except not
Because the brain still says 'Go! '
When you say
'No!
Rest! '
No Rest
Come back to consciousness?
You never left,
did you?
Begin repeat
poem by Jessica Cummings
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I Am God's Work Of Art
I am God's work of art
He crafted
My inmost being
And my heart
I am God's work of art
Sins may soil me
Events may try to abrade me
But God continues to work on me
I am God's work of art
More precious than the work
Of any artist
More intricate than any sculpted piece
I am God's work of art
My nerves and blood
My emotion, and imagination
Only God can create such masterpiece.
poem by Champs Ulysses Cabinatan
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A Hectic Day
Work is inevitable
Work is accumulative
Work is strenuous
Work is living
A good work represents a good life
A well lived life is a balance
A balance between work & play
Is a life worth living!
Thus it begins my enthusiasm
For compilation of workloads
To be effective & efficient
To complete it I shall stop
Writing this poem!
poem by Jeline Loh
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