Pisaries Creator

Creating something new was the suggestion.

The problem was I didn’t know where to start.

Paint the image from twenty years ago,

don’t hide your experience,

make sure there is truth in every brushstroke.

Imagine if it was hung in a gallery,

some of the freshness now dulled,

needing to brighten the lights more

to see the near original.

Dream of the anticipation of the possibilities.

The problem is I was never invited.

Look closely to see the last movement,

of the overturned iridescent beetle,

now pitiful and lifeless in between the folds of green and red.

The second brushstroke means nothing,

if the first doesn’t begin in the right place,

and all you created was a big mistake.

That is the end result of the suggestion.

The problem is I went down the wrong path.

Imagine someone else taking your place,

not giving one hoot how much it hurt you,

not caring how much you had suffered.’

The truth is the rows of palm trees,

not indigenous but taking up precious space,

will always be smelly and ugly in their appearances.

No one is there to suggest another task.

I have to come up with it on my own.