Silent body artists
Who was marked the breath like an unknown tomb
Who wrote the tombstones in those swelling clouds
Who swelled there liked tears on innocent cheeks
Who will be asked in what they have died
Paint them a mole a birth right mark
Butterfly paint upon their shoulder
A little heart on the back of their neck
A Harlequine tear below the left eye
Silent body artists why do you cry
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Paint my eyes in flowers
paint my hands in dragons
paint my back in windings
paint my arms in lightening
paint my neck in anks
my forehead intricate lines
paint my shoulder butterflies
paint my heart in henna
in henna of red in henna of black
body paint my heart
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Paint body art beautiful
her majesty the hand
with nail graffiti polish
pain in henna red
paint in henna black
paint paint my heart
paint body art faithful
faithful to the strokes
paint in strokes divine
paint in strokes of red
paint in strokes of black
paint paint my heart
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Purple And Silver
frozen evenings
on me, they camp greetings
intruding me to the dark feelings
demolishing any happy traces
that i once discovered
teardropp cases, these faces
never seem to get em' outta my head
paint in purple, paint it silver
track a train
to the valley of midnight pain
which i once suffered
i still suffer
when we look back to the spring shower
they left us, leaving poison flowers
i extracted the pulp
she wrapped the words
we made a bomb
mark our words
paint them purple, paint them silver
bang bang now check this out
heavy storm outside
reminds me of one inside
tornado of tears
volcano of fears
but they had to hit
and hit they did
birth of a kid
off color white
put up a fight
listening to 9 crimes
i've been given too much time
he did his part
i broke mine fast
paint it silver
msg delivered
paint it purple
i start to crumble
over the top
the boat beneath the blue whale
river of lost got a new sail
they met the pain at the oceans date
cross the fence in senses
sit at the last bench
bury the drench
she did her seven cry
i made my blood dry
birth of anger
paint it silver
run in circle
paint it purple
something pushing me to
cry one last try
that hope to see blue butterfly
makes his blood dry
she just sees the sky
and does her seven cry
frozen evenings dark fire
anguish through lime wire
silver frost bite
i burnt my kite
purple midnight
i released my knife
hearing the drums
following 1,21 guns
getting nothing
expecting a lot
talking tears
hiding fears
for 16 years
he waited for his father
for 18 years
she blocked her laughter
the waiting purple
the falling silver
paint him purple
lost in jungle
paint her silver
remember this november..
poem by Talal Athar
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Paint Me Down
Paint me down
Paint me down
Paint me down
Im walking into studio
Consider strange appeal
Paint me in the home
Im brushing up on sketchbook
Designs for love unreal
Paint me in the home
Oil and skin youll need to buy it
Consider what I mean
She sinks beneath thr moving pictures
Prepare the brush for me
Im craving with this need
Paint me down
Paint me down
Paint me down
Im soaking up the surface
Conceaiving new idea
Paint me in the home
Shes oiling up her subject
But all still life is here
Paint me in the home
All the boys with framed dimension
A cover up on lust
Hell take his pain and paint it over
Prepare the brush for me
Im craving with this need
Paint me down
Paint me down
Paint me down
song performed by by Spandau Ballet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paint Brush
We forget
We’re humans in disguise
We lust for angels
We lust for demons
We cannot exorcise the human inside.
We paint a layer of lies
No water can wash it off
Human doesn’t let paint spread
In the end humans peel paint off.
Some are left buried
With paint left unpeeled
The paint dries away
But human never dehydrates.
We may paint on thorns,
But flowers we remain inside.
poem by Mehreen Mujeeb
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Painting Jealousy
Her lips spell his name...
her cheeks, his smile.
Her tender glance reflects his soul,
as though his shadow made her whole.
I tried to paint her silent lips
till it clamored out his name.
And when I tried to sketch her cheeks...
I saw his smile, it's all the same.
Yet when I tried to paint her eyes,
in my canvas it's his face.
And so I stopped painting her,
and stopped loving her as well.
poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
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My Devil You Were
I keep telling myself that I don't need you
but you keep whispering in my ear telling me that I do
and I believe you
I believe everything you say
even though it was everything you said
I paint the picture of you on my white ceiling when I'm lying alone in my bed
I paint the picture of you on my white ceiling when I'm lying alone in my bed
Because no other girl has been here since you left
and for no other girl have I shead a tear, I'm all cried out I have none left
cause I know you love to think that you took them all
but they were gone long before
for you I didn't watch a single one fall, I was never alive I was already dead
I paint the picture of you on my white ceiling when I'm lying alone in my bed
I paint the picture of you on my white ceiling when I'm lying alone in my bed
and I paint it red
I paint it red
the colour of blood shows that it is already dead
I keep telling myself that I don't need you
but you keep whispering in my ear telling me that I do
and I believe you
I believe everything is red
even though it was everything you said
I paint the picture of you on my white ceiling when I'm lying alone in my bed
and it is all red
he paints it red
my picture of his horns it shows its now never dead.
poem by Daniel McCann
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Sonnet: Whither Thy Art, Man?
Yes, men and women, paint their eyelashes,
And dye their hair in hues and paint their nails;
And wear head-bands, multi-colored sashes,
And paint the tortoises and shells of snails.
Some paint their bodies fully or one-half;
Some paint their country’s flag over their face;
Some look like leopards, lions, clowns that laugh;
Some tattoo pictures or paint words so base.
Some paint their naked bodies as if dressed
Or apply stickers of men, Gods or beast;
Their art on human skins looks to them best
And dance in ritual for a sumptuous feast.
The art of man has gone so crazy now,
For men paint Dogs, cats, cattle, also cow.
poem by John Celes
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I Dont Paint Myself Into Corners
(rebecca lynn howard/trey bruce)
It took a while for me to see things as they were
In the light of truth
It wasnt you,it was me
I let myself get used to drowning in the hurt
Against the wall
Whod of thought,it was me
From there I couldnt even look over my shoulder
I kicked down all the walls and started all over
And I dont paint myself into corners anymore
In a brittle heart of clay
I threw my brushes away
The tools of the trade that chained your memory to me
Are out the door
I dont paint myself into corners anymore
When you left you left me with no other choice at all
But to sink
To my knees,and cry
I never knew just how far a soul could fall
Like a rock
I couldnt stop,didnt try
I locked myself behind shades of misery
But when I let you go,i set myself free
And I dont paint myself into corners anymore
In a brittle heart of clay
I threw my brushes away
The tools of the trade that chained your memory to me
Are out the door
I dont paint myself into corners anymore
The tools of the trade that chained your memory to me
Are out the door
I dont paint myself into corners anymore
song performed by by Trisha Yearwood
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paint
Don't paint me red,
Red is for bold women that use cheap scent
Don't paint me blue
Blue is for sadness and regret
Don't paint me green
Green is for envy and not to be seen
Don't paint me black
black is for the night and I love the light
Don't paint me white
White is for virgins and me, I love a flirtin'
Don't paint me orange
Orange is vile and I have some style
Don't paint me brown or grey or cream
these colours are boring and really not me.
Paint me in silver, platinum or gold
so I remain precious as I grow old.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Today I Died Again
The human drum
Beats a rhythm of life
The clothes he wears
Date back to the war
He talks alot
Often to himself
She dont say much
Just cuts his hair
She cant remember
Before the heat
He cant remember
His wifes christian name
Paint me a picture
Towers in sand
America can fall
Today I died again
I died again
I died today
Today I died again
I died again
I died today
Back to a year
Back to a youth
Of men in church and drug cabarets
Is this the age
Of empires and dance
Oh what a world
Oh what a world
She cant remember
Before this heat
He cant remember
His wifes christian name
Paint me a picture
Bodies in sand
Presidents can fall
Today I died again
I died again
I died today
Today I died again
I died again
I died today
Lyrics : j kerr music : simple minds (c) emi publishing ltd reproduced without permission
song performed by by Simple Minds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Work
Work never killed anyone,
Smithers said, a fair day’s
work for a fair day’s pay.
You continued to paint
the wall, your hand rising
and falling with the brush.
Tell that to those who died
in Auschwitz and other camps
or the archipelago of gulags
in Russia, you moodily replied.
Those were foreigners in
different times and different
places, he said, your average
person never died from the
labours of over work.
The paint was an awful green,
the wall was bland, above,
a window allowing dim light.
Some stilled died from labours
pushed to the limits, you sighed.
Smithers scratched his ass
and said, there’s always those
who’ve shirked and died.
You stood back watching
the paint dry, on a freshly
painted white glossed door,
was caught a fly, wriggling in
the stickiness, waiting to die.
poem by Terry Collett
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Painted Smile
Paint a smile on my face
Try to hide the pain
The smile never meets my eyes
My heart is full of shame
Paint a smile on my face
Try to forget the lies
The smile never meets my eyes
My heart is filled with pain
Paint a smile on my face
Try to forget I'm alone
The smile never meets my eyes
My heart begins to break
I feel a tender touch upon
The smile painted on
He wipes the smile off my face
Tells my heart to not be fake
He replaces the paint with a smile so true
I know I can't be alone
He takes the pain out of my heart
And fills me up again
For My God
poem by Lacey UnKnown
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My Aching Heart
I thought by now I'd forget
Give me a sign
I wanted more than the pain you left
It's here all the time
You're so out of reach,
A disappearing star
And still, when you look at me
You tear me apart
When you flow through me
Surround me and light the dark
Brand me and leave your mark
My aching heart
Is breaking again
We've turned the page,
And the summer's gone
Turning to fall
Memories paint the pictures like dreams
I hear you call
Was it only a dream
When you made love to me
And you filled my soul
made me whole
And watched me cry
My aching heart
And floating somewhere
You're there between pain and tears
Between my love and fear
Where no-one hears
And I've got nothing
No strength left to watch you fall
Nothing left at all
song performed by by Ofra Haza
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dream Images
if I painted pictures
I would paint dream images
I would paint visions of inner mind's eye
I would paint life in veils swirling kaleidoscopic moods
I would paint canvasses imprinting fabric expanding universes
poem by Terence George Craddock
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O My Jaan
O my Jaan now let's have fun
With my body's machine gun
I will kill your mind's Satan
With my body's powerful pen
I want to write a love poem
You will forget all other men
With my body's an injection
I can cure your love-diseases
Please let me do it off and on
My kisses are like paint and brush
I want to paint my love with it
So let me paint, baby please hush
My eyes are like sky's black hole
Baby, please stare at my eyes
You will reach your wanted goal
poem by Asif Andalib
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Rembrandt's Darkness, Rembrandt's Light
Here’s a painting by Rembrandt van Rijn –
mark how he bestows the light…
the light of Rembrandt’s conscious painted scenes
falls where consciousness itself shines strongest:
here on a thinking head, deep
in contemplation of the truth invisible;
here on a melting heart; there,
on a pregnant belly full of life;
on this marriage bed, her body
dissolves into the light of love;
here, the golden helmet and the breastplate
say, heroism has descended on mere man.
But mark, too, that other miracle:
see in this corner, the area of black paint:
this is not darkness; not negation of the light;
this is what cannot comprehend the light;
this is the darkness of the unmanifest,
from which all miracles shall in time arise:
this is the black paint stroked on the canvas
by the same dazzling intelligence
which was Rembrandt; the light
yet stored in darkness; what would that light
of things seen, be, without the mind
that understood and marked the not yet lit?
The secret of that darkness fills
with a brightness that's more beautiful than beauty,
the mind that knows to shut its mortal eyes.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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I paint on a sky
The dawn is breaking its early morn
Here, I m standing on a promise
of a brand new day
for new morning comes.
for the early morning smile,
So then, I paint on a sky.
Your eyes that shine like a golden sun.
I sense the morning glory.
Those cherry blossoms
That I paint on my mind.
As I heard the morning breeze,
That plays inside of me.
The notes and melodies
Were I paint on a sky
Over there beneath the silence
I watched the sea that dance on a wave,
And then I draw a line on sand
A line that connects my soul on wind
There I can dance to the music of my own
There I can paint on a sky.
Every step that I have been through.
I belong to the wind.
To fly higher than the mountain
Fly as free as the bird.
Then, I paint on a sky.
These dreams inside my mind,
These hope that I have been holding on
These love that last for more than time.
I walked on a bridge of the rainbow
I’ll be the sun in the sky.
I’ll be the light in all time
I’ll put back the blue in the sky
And learn to see the beauty that is waiting for
So then, I paint on a sky
All the happiness that brings back in my heart.
poem by Cheryl Aldea
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And I Waited
And I was still alone, under our tree.
Yet another Evangeline.
My tears having dried like spiderwebs
across my sunburnt cheeks.
Cheeks sore from laughter.
And I waited.
I waited where we always met,
day after day.
But then the sun hid behind a fleet of clouds
and crystal insects pelted the leaves
in a torrent of cold tears from the sky.
The fallen leaves lay on the ground before me.
But I stayed.
And my hair clung to my neck
and my cheeks burned like Hell
and I waited.
When the clouds parted, our tree was bare.
It shivered in the breeze,
dancing with me to the Waltz of Loss.
And I waited.
poem by Zoe Guillory
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I paint German artists whom I admire. I paint their pictures, their work as painters, and their portraits too. But oddly enough, each of these portraits ends up as a picture of a woman with blonde hair. I myself have never been able to work out why this happens.
quote by Georg Baselitz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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