Dexsta Ray

Gold Star - 15,375 Points (March 8,1994 -)

Art En Soul (Glass House) - Poem by Dexsta Ray

Ay, vague shade gradations through chiaroscuro
Painted shapes of ancient engravings
Of mainly raidings
Shining examples
Flaming haven or gazebo floating
Coated sculptings
Thrown and broke on the wall
Various colours running from the clutter
A mix arrayed?
British Racing Green, Alloy Orange, and couple others
How to ascertain if nothing's promise?
It's ruckus
But the brushes made would certainly have a function!
Isn't hidden per se
Yet really isn't worth displaying
Let the ashcan fill up
Or hold your soul
I mosey on...
Watching all who were watching the watchers watch the artists
Spot the hearts that got departed
But not the martyrs
Ay! What's on the easel of lacking locomotion?
Had it masked the known devotion?
The black and broken
Oh! The madness is so oblique
Shall you dive into the ink of the damage before complete?
With thee...
I hear that hell enrobes the guilty at heart
Tsk, the only twelve I know is from the Theory of Art
Six tertiary colors
Three are leading impart
The other three are secondary just like green for a start
I saw the painting and it changed me
Then faith became me
Something in me trumps the niggling
So I can't speak
He saw them sitting in a sixty on that clay street
Someone had to switch and tell the opposite where Ray sleep
Late night...
Dark light style painting
Same fight, heart made hard like halfs breaking
So there's shooting neigh the countryside
But that ain't nothing new
People like the sooth and come to do some hunting, true
But the birdies trying to tell me that it wasn't who
But it's cool
Never brought it up 'cause I was clutching too
I was thinking stupid then because
I was a fool
And since nobody ever came to me I wasn't moved
But the LORD had gotten ANGRY with my dummy views
For He wasn't fooled
And I was rebuked I promise you
Throw three pronged hook out painting
Latched on to the pattern of the scape now facing
For the fate was evidently mine
I remember, way back, I was living a lie
Was lost
No excuses
Kid trying to fit in
All the painting on the middle represent my descent
Truly heartless
Didn't care for myself
The only thing I really wanted was some peril and death
And tried to find it...
But I kept on surviving
I wondered why is that?
Turn towards the crooked serpent just to hide the fact?
That I wasn't worth a half in my sight
Was thinking, since a grown-up said it then perhaps they were right
Was then...
That was way before I'd rather the Light
Before I understood His
Purpose for my life
Everything was meant
So there's no
For a prophecy is necessary
And the Father up above is never secondary
Clashing out the GLASS HOUSE that the REST prepared me
Lying shows a form of fear and satan's binds are never scary

Ha ha
And it's still moving
Satan is the liar and creator of the lie
Eyes open...
Society's a joke baby
Trust God


Topic(s) of this poem: truth

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, December 2, 2014

Poem Edited: Monday, April 2, 2018

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